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Violette was amazed as money was bundled into her lap along with a couple of chunks of cheese that she bit into. It seemed life as a man was rather more amusing than life as a woman already, with more money in her coffers and more laughter than she’d had in a long time.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the stagecoach moved increasingly nearer to London, passing carts and other horses on the track roads, with the green hills disappearing beyond the windows, turning into rather scruffy back-to-back houses.
“Where are we?” Violette asked when they reached a natural pause in their game. Sir Rowanstone craned his neck around her to see outside.
“Ah, London, laddie,” he said with a firm nod. “Well, the outskirts anyway. These be the poorer areas. They’ll drop us off in Covent Garden, so you have a little time yet.”
Violette swallowed tightly as she watched some ladies walk between the small cottages and terraced houses. They were dressed poorly, but were working women, with baskets of laundry in their arms. She knew very well the gamble she was taking. Out on her own, she could end up in their position, scraping to make a living as they did. Then the carriage turned and offered her a view of one of the ladies’ faces, seeing that she was smiling.
Perhaps it was possible to be happy in such a place. She had a feeling she would be happier anywhere than back home at the Snowspring estate with her parents.
“You got somewhere to stay in London?” Sir Rowanstone called her attention back as they packed up their game. She pocketed all the cash and turned her focus on him.
“No, in truth…I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” she said softly, realising the first hurdle in her plan. She had been so desperate to reach London that she hadn’t thought of what to do next.
“If in doubt, head to St James Street,” Sir Rowanstone said. “There are many gentlemen’s clubs in those streets, some that offer lodgings and others that offer…” he paused.
“Something a little more amusing than a lonesome bed?” the clerk asked between mouthfuls of ale.
“Ha! That is certainly one way to say it.” Sir Rowanstone chuckled, pointing at the clerk. Violette realised exactly what they were talking of, looking between them in surprise before her lips tweaked into a smile. Ladies never talked of such things, despite knowing such places existed. It made it all the more freeing to talk of something like that.
“St James Street?” Violette asked, wanting to be sure.
“Aye, head there, laddie. They have cheap lodgings there too, be a good way to start your adventure in London.”
“Thank you for your help,” she said, genuinely meaning the words.
“Think nothing of it,” he said, shaking off her gratitude, shortly before the carriage came to a stop.
Being pressed to the door, Violette was the first one to step out, where she was met with a strong smell indeed. It was of the Thames, with a hint of river water in the air, and excrement, plus the spices from a market that was set up just outside the coaching in, with their stalls visible out of the corner of her eye.
As she stepped out, she had to move around a pile of manure dropped by the horses, nearly slipping in a corner of it in her Hessian boots before lifting her eyes to the roads around them. They were in Covent Garden, with a piazza visible beyond short townhouses in front of her. On one side of the street, fine gentlemen and ladies walked by in refined clothes, and on the other, people walked by in rags, holding out their hands and begging for money.
“I hope it is what you expected, laddie,” Sir Rowanstone said in goodbye as he clapped her shoulder.
“I am not sure you could say that,” she mumbled to herself. Then her trunk was dropped into her arms by the coach driver, and she wobbled on her feet, stepping back into the manure once again.
In spite of herself, she laughed out loud and scraped the manure off her boots onto the cobbled road around her. She did not care if it was dirty and a little rough around the edges. She was free, and she had never been so happy to be anywhere in her life.
***
“That’s it, Mr Blake, your room is sorted for the night,” the man attending the desk at the gentleman’s club said, passing a key into Violette’s hands.
“Thank you,” she said, pocketing the key, just as a footman took her trunk and carried it up the stairs.
“Will you have a valet accompanying you, Mr Blake?” the gentleman at the desk asked, pulling her up short. She came to a firm stop, feeling her lips parting in wonder. “Many of our gentleman guests usually travel with one.”
“Yes, of course,” she said hurriedly, keeping her voice deep as she thought up an excuse. “I am afraid I had to fire mine. The clot kept dropping my trunk in the manure in the streets, can you imagine?” She could see she made the man smile a little at the idea. “I’ll have to hire one in the next few days. I’ll let you know once I have managed to find one.”
“Of course, Mr Blake. Have a good evening,” he said, nodding to her. “I can recommend our gaming room if you are looking for a little diversion.”
Violette smiled as she walked toward the archway in the townhouse through which the man had gestured. She had purposefully picked one of the gentleman’s clubs in St James Street that had no ladies or courtesans hanging around outside.
She had chosen one of the finer looking townhouses, that according to the man on the door, offered a gaming room and a sitting room for drinks but promised there were no ladies. Violette did not particularly want a courtesan coming up to her to offer their custom!
She peered through the archway, amazed at the spectacle before her. It seemed men had another life offered to them entirely, for before her tables were stretched out with cards, dice, and other gambling activities. Servants were walking around offering brandy and port, along with pipes and tobacco too. Violette wrinkled her nose at the smell, she didn’t quite fancy trying the smoking, but her taste of gambling that day had certainly tickled her fancy.
“We need a fourth for whist,” a man said from nearby at the closest table. “Unless you can find a fourth, we’ll have to settle for something else.” Feeling she couldn’t resist, she walked across to the table and the three men that were sat there, looking up to her in surprise.
