Keeping Faith (Fair Cyprians of London 3)

She rose quickly and shoved the newspaper into her carpetbag, hurrying to the door and pulling down her veil once again.

Where could she go? She couldn’t return to Lady Vernon’s. The woman had had a part in all this. She’d betrayed Faith. But what about Mrs Gedge? She’d invested heavily in Faith’s education for three years. What would she think to know that her minion, Lady Vernon, had betrayed her too?

Only, Faith had no idea how to contact Mrs Gedge directly. They’d only ever met at the Dorchester for tea once a month.

She glanced up at the star-studded sky and shivered in the chilly night air.

She was about to hail a hackney but realised she’d not have the funds to pay for it. She’d used the only coins she had, the ones Lady Vernon had given her, to get here.

So, with heavy footsteps, she began to walk.

In the direction of the place she’d called home for three years, and which she’d sold her soul to leave.

“Faith, what’s brought yer back ‘ere,” squealed the tweeny, Lizabet, who opened the door to her. At least one person didn’t know, she was glad to note.

“Just here to pick up a few belongings and see a few friends. And Madame Chambon.”

“You really want to see ‘er?” Lizabet grimaced as she led Faith through the gloomy passageway to the salon at the back of the house.

It was early for business, but a handful of the girls lounged about in varying states of dress and undress.

A couple whispered as Faith entered, but Charity straightened with a smile of genuine pleasure as Faith caught her eye.

Faith crossed the room and lowered herself onto the seat beside where Charity was pulling on a stocking seated in the informal sitting room.

“What have the girls been saying about me?” she asked her friend in a whisper. “Tell me the truth.”

Charity shook her head as she glanced about, perhaps to see that Madame was nowhere about. “Oh Faith, it’s a bad business, and I don’t know how much is fiction, but the fact is, the photograph is damning enough. What will you do? Will you come back here to live? I’m sure Madame Chambon would take you in. She’d probably consider the notoriety would make you more valuable. And it would, don’t you think? See, there’s always a silver lining.”

“I hardly call that a silver lining and no, I have no intention of—” She broke off at the honeyed tones of her former mistress.

“Ah, Faith, what a pleasant surprise, though I always knew you’d return.”

Madam Chambon loomed over them, a frightening and imposing figure in a gown of lavender and lace, the russet hairpiece intricately interwoven with coils of fake and real hair, her beady eyes gazing at Faith through wire-rimmed spectacles.

“A short visit only,” Faith said, her throat so dry she felt lightheaded. Her legs felt lacking the substance needed to stand up. And yet she needed to leave this place as fast as she could.

“Oh?” Madame’s look of enquiry was tinged with scepticism. “And where could you possibly be going at this time of night? Oh yes, Lady Vernon’s, am I not co

rrect? She had plans to whisk you away in order to complete the terms of Mrs Gedge’s arrangement with her.”

Madame Chambon straightened, patting her large bosom and emitting a waft of cloying patchouli perfume. “But a great deal has changed in the last couple of hours, Faith.” Her brow creased. “Events have fairly run out of control, and…I think you must come to my office in order for me to acquaint you with everything to do with Mrs Gedge and Lady Vernon, whose authority is superior to mine where you are concerned, my dear. Charity, please excuse us.”

Charity’s concerned look made it plain that she understood the menace behind Madame Chambon’s words.

“And please, Charity, do make a little more effort with your appearance tonight. I know you’re tired, but if you can’t attract the gentlemen like you used to, you will have to find somewhere else to lodge. I’m not a charity.” She gave a sudden, short laugh as if only then realising the play on words.

What could Faith do but follow Madame Chambon along the gloomy passage and step into the opulently decorated office, where the brothel madam entertained a range of business associates from her fellow bawds to young gentlemen negotiating a contract to relieve Madame Chambon of one of her girls.

Or a woman like Mrs Gedge, though Faith was certain Mrs Gedge had never set foot in these Soho premises.

“Now, sit down and tell me what has brought you here when I was almost certain you’d run off to be with your lover; the charming Mr Westaway.” Madame’s nostrils flared. “You thought Lady Vernon very credulous if you truly believed you could hide from her the state of your heart. You are a strong-willed young woman, Faith, and Lady Vernon is a sharp-eyed—”

“Gaoler and snitch!” Faith spat.

“Those are singularly unkind terms for a noblewoman who has fallen on hard times and is simply using whatever resources she can to keep a roof over her head.” Madame Chambon twisted in her chair in order to locate a decanter of sherry on a shelf behind her. “When nerves are being tested, I think a little fortification is in order. Faith, a glass?”

“And risk being drugged?” Faith shook her head, and Madame raised one eyebrow.