The Tender Days of May (The Belle House Book 1) Read online

  When Krissy came, she found the young woman on the verge of tears, her eyes wild and bright as if from fever.

  “Are you still upset about Ada, Miss?” Krissy asked with a solemn look.

  “I can’t even think of anything vile happening to that little girl. Can you imagine what it could be like?” May looked at her in despair.

  Krissy didn’t need to imagine. She knew. Getting a job in the Belle House was unimaginable luck. On the other hand, her sister, who was in one of the sailor houses on the docks, selling herself for pennies and possibly dying of tuberculosis, wasn’t so lucky.

  “Do you have something in mind, Miss?” Krissy raised her hopeless eyes at the woman.

  May hesitated for a second.

  “If I wanted to locate one of the clients of the house, would it be possible?”

  “Well, yes, Miss. I’m sure. The madam knows every one of them.”

  “What if I didn’t want to let Mrs. Sharke know? Could you do it for me, Krissy? I need to send a message.”

  Krissy looked at her with doubt.

  “I’m not sure about that, Miss. I could get in trouble. Who did you want me to find?”

  May winced at the thought of the name.

  “Lord Ashbee,” she said quietly.

  —————

  May sent Krissy to Lord Ashbee’s with a note that she wanted to see him urgently. Krissy was fast. She was no fool, and Lord Ashbee was an intrigant. An hour later, Krissy came back with the news that Lord Ashbee could not come. If it was something urgent, May should meet him at his house.

  What a devil!

  May’s face flushed at the news. She was frustrated and desperate, like never before. But so grave were the images of Ada in her mind that she decided to break the most important rule of her safety.

  —————

  They arrived at Lord Ashbee’s house by carriage.

  It was dream-like—being out of the Belle House for the first time, being out on the streets of London in the daytime. The scenery outside the carriage window was so fascinating that for a second, May forgot what fate brought her to this city. She wore a proper dress, a veiled bonnet, and gloves. For the first time since her arrival in London, she felt more like herself but was still a fugitive.

  Lord Ashbee’s house was large and stylish. May trembled at a mere thought that someone else would see her, inquire about her, somehow find out about her visit. But the house was empty except for the butler whose quick curious glances made May feel uneasy. Krissy stayed at the reception area, throwing inquisitive glances around as May was shown into the study.

  Lord Ashbee.

  The sight of him sent shiver down her body. Seeing him in the daylight, formally, in his own house, at her, May’s, own will! How strange that it was happening, she thought as they gazed at each other for longer than the manners permitted.

  “So, we meet again, Miss May,” he finally said in a low voice, and a familiar smile touched his lips. His eyes looked her up and down, studying the dress. At this, May’s fears and nervousness grew stronger.

  He stretched his hand towards her, and she flinched and looked at it in panic at first, then realized it was part of the etiquette. She put her gloved hand into his, and he kissed it softly, holding it a bit too long until she pulled the hand back.

  “I know the story about the little girl. You can skip the details,” he said, offering her a seat and taking the armchair across from it. He lit up a cigar and raised his eyes that glinted with the same devilish sparkle that made her so uneasy. “I am curious at what any of this has to do with me,” he continued with a slight twitch of his mouth.

  Oh, he knew perfectly well! He was convinced that he always got what he wanted. And this time, fate worked in some mysterious way.

  May explained the situation again. The story. Her asking Mrs. Sharke for help. And that she was now asking for his. When she finished the story, she looked at him, waiting for an answer.

  “Money?” He seemed surprised. “Why would I lend money to someone I don’t know?” May’s heart sank. “To someone who is in hiding probably because of money troubles in the first place?”

  His eyes pierced hers, questioning her, yet, she felt he knew before she even came to the house what the trouble was.

  May lowered her eyes to the floor, wishing she was somewhere else.

  “I don’t lend money, Miss May,” he continued, “I invest it. Into good business opportunities. And I don’t see any lending interest here for me. Do you know how much a child is worth?”

  May shook her head without raising her eyes. How embarrassing it all was!

  “Quite a lot. For a little creature with no skills. Especially a good-looking one. You’d be surprised. Some people, of course, find potential in everything,” he said with such a devilish undertone that it made May cringe.

  She was failing.

  She was failing Ada.

  She remembered the little girl’s face, her little hands. May’s head started spinning in horror, and across her eyes came a mist of tears.

  “I guess, there is no other lending guarantee that I can offer, Lord Ashbee.” She looked at him, and he felt tenderness at the sight of such beauty in distress. But only momentarily as May murmured, “I shouldn’t have come,” and stood up abruptly.

  “Miss May”—he let out a ring of smoke and stood up, too—“do you remember our conversation the other day?” The half-smile on his lips made her blush and look away. “You said you don’t need money. Or a benefactor.” The word shot through May’s mind like a poisonous arrow. “This might be a good time to change your mind.”

  The words made her freeze in a stupor.

  Was he trying to buy her?

  “But… I’m not a lady of the Belle House,” she said with a frown.

  “That has nothing to do with my offer.”

  “You don’t mean…” she paused, looking at him, and his eyes stared at her with the so familiar sparkle.

  He didn’t answer but blinked slowly.

  She didn’t have to ask.

  She knew.

  She knew he knew that it was her choice.

  They gazed at each other and knew exactly what it meant.

  May hesitated for a minute. The thoughts in her head were the biggest moral battle she had to fight so far. And human life was at stake. Lord Ashbee didn’t move. He just stood there in the traces of the cigar smoke as if he was the devil himself. He didn’t come closer, afraid to spook her away, just waited patiently.

  “What…” she started and paused. “What would be the terms of this…arrangement?”

  She looked at Lord Ashbee with all the courage she could summon and waited for the answer in horror.

  “Very simple, Miss May. You would be my mistress.” He paused for emphasis, and the silence made the words seem even more sinister. “I know you despise the idea,” he continued, “but to your surprise, you might find the arrangement quite enjoyable with time.” He smiled now, and May blushed.

  “For how long?”

  “Let’s say, a month?”

  “A month?” she exclaimed and stared at him in shock. “I don’t believe I can…”—she closed her eyes as if fighting her own words—“I’m not sure I can be of as much service as other women you are accustomed to.”

  He chuckled.

  How sweet.

  He took a step closer.

  “Maybe you don’t know what I want. We can find out,” he said quieter now. “It’s your decision and yours only,” he talked slowly as if letting her get used to the idea. “It will be a very respectful arrangement, if it’s any consolation to you. Nothing you don’t want to do.” At that, he smiled, for he knew better. “Since you don’t leave the house too often, you won’t have to accompany me anywhere. Unless you change your mind.” He hoped.

  He talked slowly but struggled to hide his anticipation and the smile that tried to break off his lips. Could it be possible that this young beauty, and a virgin, was falling right int
o his hands? And in such strange circumstances?

  “You can think about my offer, Miss May,” he said, “but don’t take too long. Pretty little girls tend to get snatched off the market quite fast.” He smirked, and she looked at him in horror.

  “Very well, then,” she heard herself say and lowered her eyes.

  Ashbee watched her with silence. Just like he knew when to say the right thing, he knew when to say nothing.

  She looked up at him.

  “I agree,” she repeated quieter, and her heart started beating violently at the words.

  They gazed at each other for some time, their minds conjuring the images of what would follow. She—with fear but some strange anticipation. He—with excitement, hardly able to believe his luck.

  So much beauty.

  So much compassion.

  Such quick of a decision.

  It will be an exciting month, he thought.

  “Very well, then,” he echoed.

  She asked him if he was going to draw a money contract, and he gave her a condescending smile.

  “I have a feeling, Miss May, that it’s in your best interest not to break our agreement. You don’t know me well. Yet,” he added with a smile, “but I am the kind of person you want to be on a good side with.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “When would you like to get that precious little thing you are so desperate to save?” he asked.

  “Now?” She looked at him, relieved but with the same despair in her eyes. “I won’t forgive myself if we don’t do it in time for…”

  She didn’t finish the dreadful thought. And Lord Ashbee realized he would forever regret if anything prevented this deal from happening.

  “So impatient,” he said under his breath and smiled.

  —————

  If May knew what she was about to witness, she wouldn’t think twice about saving Ada. Lord Ashbee, on the other hand, had never taken women to the East End, though had met plenty there. This journey was a strange one, even for him, and therefore excited him even more.

  The drive to the East End took about an hour. The two were silent for most of the time. May kept her eyes on the streets outside the window of the horse carriage, felt Lord Ashbee’s eyes on her almost constantly, his studying her, probably working out some wicked plans in his mind. He didn’t make a pass at her again, and the previous encounters seemed almost like a dream. She didn’t think about the future yet, her mind—preoccupied with the thoughts about Ada.

  The drive was a gradual road into dimness as if instead of moving onward, the carriage started to descend into a different world that existed below. The streets got narrower, darker, louder, more crowded. Lord Ashbee summoned two big heavy men, his footmen, to accompany them. While May wondered why they needed them, she now understood, for the deeper they got into the slums, the more she felt terrified. And when they finally stepped out of the carriage, she thought that she was not in London anymore, but instead, in some strange kingdom of poverty and ugliness.

  Filth, garbage, rotten food leftovers, and dead animal carcasses covered the narrow streets as May, Lord Ashbee, and the two men made their way through the slums. May’s shoes frequently stepped into something wet and slimy, occasionally slipped, and the stench of the rot and excrements made her gag. Suffocating and dim, whatever light that could come was obscured by the overhanging houses, piled high, story upon story, the streets so narrow that one could step from one house to another across the way. Human bodies in shreds of clothing lay like sacks of trash in their own filth, moaned, rasped, and coughed. Panhandlers of all vices shouted in their faces and cackled. Drunks blabbered in delirium. Crippled dirty women, barely clothed, covered in scabs, grabbed the passersby by the hands and jackets offering their vile services while someone else was already taking advantage of another creature right there in plain view.

  The company moved quickly, trying not to look around, but May’s eyes were inevitably drawn to the miseries around. What a difference one-hour ride made!

  She felt petrified!

  A living nightmare!

  It must be here that Dante got the visions for his Inferno, she thought. This hell suffocated her with the stench of the corpses that no one had money to bury. It strangled her with horror, pounded and reeked of despair from all corners of the dark alleys. What could be a worse hell on earth?

  A hand, like a steel claw, gripped her and whipped her around, and a face, contorted in an ugly mask of disease and anger, appeared so close that she almost fainted from the stench of death that breathed at her. She gave out a meek yelp as one of the footmen elbowed the monster away, and Lord Ashbee pulled her towards him.

  “It’s fine, you are fine, sweetheart,” he said softly, and she gripped him and looked up into his eyes for reassurance. He looked at her with familiar mischief and something new, the anticipation of danger. His eyes weren’t frightened, instead, they were almost cheerful, burning with some kind of fever. And it scared May for a second—the idea that Lord Ashbee was acquainted with the streets, had walked them before, knew of the evils that resided here and wasn’t disturbed, moreover, was on certain terms with them. The revelation shocked May, but she gripped Lord Ashbee’s arm tighter, feeling protected, and did not let go the rest of the way.

  It took what felt like forever to get to a filthy dark building at the end of an equally deteriorating alley where the men exchanged words with a one-armed old cripple that smelled of strong spirits, vomit, and piss. The vagrant or whoever he was, looked May up and down with a toothless grin, licked his lips and spat through whatever rotten teeth that were left.

  Oh, God, May thought in panic, started trembling, gripped Lord Ashbee’s arm tighter, and hid her face behind him as they were led through the iron doors of a dark building and down the steps. Her heart was pounding, and she trembled all over going down into the blackness of the basement, realizing that at this moment she was at the mercy of the man she barely knew, whose reputation was far from honorable, who was the only one that knew where she was right now. If someone wanted to get rid of her, now was the perfect opportunity. The thought terrified her, and a sickening feeling was starting in her stomach. She wanted to throw up, her nerves were giving up, but she pulled herself together and kept her eyes open, praying in her mind for God to show the way.

  Right now, that way was into a dim, stinky basement, wet and moldy, lit up only by the candles that stuck out from beer bottles and filthy jars.

  The view that opened in front of May made her toes curl.

  There were two large cages on the stone floor. They reached up to one’s chest, and inside them, something was moving. Or someone. Several of them. Dogs? Animals?

  People!

  It took her eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness, and she realized that the cages were stuffed with children. Like dogs, the little bodies cowered, gripped each other, and whimpered. Soaked in their own excrements, tears, and despair, dirty and stinky, in the darkness of the underworld, they barely looked human.

  In shock, May stared at the site wide-eyed, paralyzed with horror, forgetting the stench and not noticing the catcalls and the dirty jokes thrown at her by the voices from the more sinister dark corners.

  She finally came back to reality, and her eyes frantically searched around as she said, “Ada?” then again, louder, and suddenly there was a voice, then another, and dozens of little voices started begging her, crying, stretching their little hands toward her through the metal bars of the cages. The howling took over the basement.

  “Shut’ye fucken’ traps!” came the sudden roar that made May jerk closer towards Lord Ashbee as a tall man jumped like a viper from the darkness towards the cages and started beating a wooden stick against the metal bars. The little hands withdrew back inside, and the cries subsided, turning into quiet whimpering and sniffling.

  “Miss May?” she heard a faint squeak. Her head snapped in the direction of the sound, and she saw Ada’s dandelion head and the familiar eyes big
from fear and wet from tears amidst dozen others.

  “It’s her!” May exclaimed. She thought she would faint, was afraid to move closer but didn’t let her eyes off the little girl while Lord Ashbee exchanged words with the ugly man, paid him, and the monster pulled Ada like a bastard kitten out of the cage and threw her towards May. The girl crouched and hugged May’s knees sobbing and shaking, and May felt her face get wet from tears of gratitude and relief.

  “We have to go. Right now,” Lord Ashbee said quietly but insistently. One of the footmen picked up the little girl’s frail body and took it in his arms, and under the hostile eyes of the basement monsters, the four of them moved up the stair and out on to the street.

  After the dungeon, even the dirty slums felt like freedom, and May exhaled with nervous relief.

  “But all those children down there!” She looked up at Lord Ashbee with the eyes full of tears.

  “You can’t save everyone, May. The world is what it is,” he said, and as they made their way through the filthy slums, he kept looking at May’s withdrawn face.

  The truth was, Lord Ashbee knew perfectly well that they didn’t have to come here—he could have sent the maid with the two guards to conduct the business. But he wanted to show May what life was like for some. He had a feeling that she hadn’t seen this side of humanity, and he wanted her to—to show her that life wasn’t all flowers and virtue, that the Belle House wasn’t a prison, that bargains weren’t all about pride and ego. Some bargained with fates, gambled with lives, and if for some, life was about preserving dignity and honor, for many others, life was worth just another blow, or a drink, or a fuck, or a plate of food, or one more breath of air. For some people, just being born meant prison and hell already. Lord Ashbee had seen it more than enough in his life. Back in the days, he had spent plenty of time on the bottom of the human gutter to know what it was like. He still came here when he had the blues—to feel alive, to remind himself that for some people, life was a game of survival. May needed to see it too. Besides, it brought him immense pleasure to shock innocent souls, to open their eyes for the first time to the explicit sides of human nature.