Behind the Courtesan(23)

Taking the wood through to the taproom, she stopped and nearly dropped the load at the sight that greeted her. If she hadn’t been so lost in thought, she might have heard the sounds of twenty or so women milling about in the common room. Some were seated, some stood and while she stared, the main door opened to admit another two, huge baskets hanging from their elbows.

It took fewer than five thumps of her heart against her ribs for the room to fall completely silent. Fewer than four more for them all to look in her direction.

“I beg your pardon,” she said, recovering quickly, but not quite quickly enough. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.” She sounded as if she lied, her voice wavered so.

The crowd parted at her words and Violet stepped forward. “Good morning, Sophia.” Her gaze took in Sophia’s filthy dress, the wood she still held in her arms and eventually returned to her face. “How is Blake faring this morning?”

“Blake?” she repeated dumbly.

“Matthew told me he had been injured, is he all right?”

She nodded. What were all of these women doing here? Surely they weren’t there to check on Blake’s welfare. Perhaps they were going to help her run the inn? She almost snorted.

Violet took another step forward. “Are you all right?”

Sophia nodded again.

“She doesn’t look all right,” a shrill voice spoke from the back of the room.

The almost sneering way it was said snapped her back to the present, back to the splinters pushing deeper into her skin and the ache in her muscles. “I am perfectly fine, startled perhaps, but fine nonetheless. Would someone kindly tell me what you are all doing here?”

“That’s none of your business,” an elderly lady said, stepping forward until she stood by Violet’s side.

“Annie, don’t be so unkind,” another lady admonished before pointing to Sophia. “You might want to put all of that down before you drop it on your feet.”

Sophia bobbed her head in the lady’s direction and tried to appear nonchalant as she walked down the middle of the assembled gaggle. She felt rather like Moses parting the red sea. She did feel as though the edges would fall in on her at any moment.

Silently she unloaded her burden by the hearth, dusted the front of her gown of dirt and bark, pushed her damp hair from her forehead and turned to face everyone. “Will you be staying for long?” She truly didn’t mean the question to emerge the way it did, but her nerves once again threatened to destroy her. What were they all doing there?

The one called Annie puffed her chest out. “We’ll stay for as long as we do every month, maybe longer.”

Every month? Why hadn’t Blake warned her? From the corner of her eye Sophia noticed Violet shake her head, her flushed face downcast, wringing her hands in front of her large belly.

“What do you do here every month?”

“None of your business,” Annie told her.

“We sew,” a fair-haired woman offered from the back of the room.

She didn’t bother asking any more questions after that. “I will leave you to it, then.”

“Best you do,” came Annie’s acid reply.

Violet sighed and a number of women shook their heads, but not one stopped her from leaving the room.

Hot tears pricked her eyes as she strode down the corridor past Blake’s office, through the kitchen and out into the yard where the rain still fell in sheets of freezing droplets. She heaved huge breaths of frigid air until her lungs burned but nothing stopped the tears.

This is what came from emotions. It’s what happened when she was made to feel. Then all the thoughts she had pushed away for so many years were able to creep over the wall she had erected. Women hated her. What more could she expect from gently bred females taught to despise what she was.

“Sophia?” The very last thing she expected was for Blake to choose that moment to appear.

She didn’t turn. Her latest humiliation didn’t require yet another witness. “What do you want?”

“Are you all right?”

“I am fine. Perfectly fine.” Maybe if she repeated the words enough times she may start to believe them.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you they were coming.”

“Forgot?” She knew what she implied with the question. Did he leave out the information to hurt her?

“The ladies use the tap on this one morning a month to make quilts and talk nonsense. With the accident and all...”

Should she believe him?

Then the realization dawned. “You heard all of that, didn’t you?”

“I heard enough. I’m sorry, Sophie.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for and neither do they. Everyone has an opinion and I predicted that theirs would be like this. It’s one of the reasons I wasn’t going to come at all. In London my lifestyle is accepted in some circles, but here...” She sighed. “Here I may as well have leprosy for all anyone will give me a chance.”

“I gave you a chance.”

She finally turned to look him in the eye. Is that what he thought this was? This was her chance? “You gave me a chance to prove my mettle only after losing your temper.”

“That might be so, but it’s a chance nonetheless.”

“Why, how magnanimous of you to bestow this great honor upon me.”

“Don’t twist my words. You are doing a fine job here, Sophie. Not a one would argue that.”

“That entire room full of women would beg to differ.”

“This is where you show them what you have shown me. Show them that you are a woman and not a leper. Since when did their opinions become so important anyway?”

He was right. She did not need the approval of her sex. She did not need their disapproval to make her regret her life either. She wasn’t proud to be a courtesan though she did take pride in her handling of the situation. She had arrived in London with barely more than the clothes on her back and a child of rape growing in her womb and now she had means. She was really quite wealthy, and until she had returned to Blakiston, she had been content if not happy.

How could a few remarks from an old biddy reduce her to tears? She was Sophia Martin. She straightened and lifted her chin.

“There you are,” Blake murmured.

“Here I am,” was her reply.

* * *

Sophia had only met Dominic’s sister, Maria, the day before and already she liked the girl. At thirteen she was young enough to have not been informed about the inner workings of London’s demimonde and old enough to form her own opinions. It gave Sophia hope, having just one ally. Two if she counted the fact that Maria’s mother knew Sophia worked at the inn and still let her only daughter go to work.

After waiting for Maria to arrive and take over the lunch preparation, Sophia went back in to the tap to try to make peace and show the women for that day, she was in charge.

“Ladies, can I have your attention please?”

It wasn’t entirely necessary for her to raise her voice, since they had all fallen silent again within moments of her arrival, but it made her feel better. As though she had rediscovered control in a situation that needed it.

“I’m afraid Blake is indisposed at the moment. Would you like refreshments? Morning tea?”

When Sophia met Annie’s eyes, the woman paled. “Annie, would you care for tea?”

“I am Mrs. Simpkins to you, gel.”

“Since we weren’t properly introduced, I wasn’t sure. Tea then?”

Sophia didn’t wait for a reply as her gaze moved from one woman to the next.

“I would like tea,” Violet spoke up.

The poor woman was likely famished. It must have taken a great deal of courage (or discomfort) to respond. “Something to eat as well?” While she was pushing her luck, she may as well see how far she could go.

“Yes, please.”

She could have hugged her sister-in-law in that moment, but had to settle for a smile in her direction. She wasn’t sure why Violet was treating her less like she was diseased than she had at their dinner on her first night, but she didn’t care. It was progress. “Excellent. I will only be offering once, Ladies. I have many things to do and Blake is quite ill, so I don’t have time to spare.”

“Ill?” came a voice from her right.

“You said he was all right,” came another.

“He has some injuries, but nothing rest won’t cure. For the moment he is unable to run the inn.”

“So you’re doing it?” This question came from a young girl. Sophia would guess her to be around sixteen.

“I am.”

A murmur rippled through the women and Sophia had to bite her lip to stop her smile. This was how to win over a room full of Blakiston women. She couldn’t hope to impress them all, but perhaps showing her strengths and that she wasn’t there to steal husbands would do for a beginning.