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“You have one now.”
“Yes, well. But wearespeaking of marriage.”
“Surely there’s a friend of your brother’s who also wishes to have children for a proper family’s sake.”
“If I marry, that’s precisely what I’ll do. An acquaintance of my brother’s asked for my hand, one who genuinely wanted children. But we weren’t suited, despite having that in common.”
“Why not?”
“I perceived his annoyance if I uttered more than one sentence at a time or touched upon a topic of which he didn’t approve.”
“But he still wanted to marry you?”
“Yes. When my brother informed him that we wouldn’t suit, Lord Disapproving,” she said, using her nickname for him, “told David that motherhood would tame me, and we’d suit better then.”
They both laughed, confining their reaction to a volume suitable for the Lilac Room.
“Is your brother still friends with him?”
“Yes. They fence together for sport. I asked David to nick him a few times for me.” They laughed again. “Lord Disapproving has since married.”
“To a whey-faced girl who doesn’t speak too much?”
“To a painfully timid, whey-faced girl who didn’t speak at social gatherings. But as any lady knew, as soon as the girl stepped away from a ballroom, even to a dressing room, she talked without cessation. At her wedding, the poor thing looked terrified during the ceremony and banquet. Lord Disapproving was suitably concerned, patting her hand, whispering reassurances. I’d love to see the look on his face when he finally got her alone in the bedchamber, and she began talking…and talking.”
They giggled uncharitably.
“Do they have plenty of whey-faced children now?”
“They have three. Certainly a fourth to be announced.” Clara’s face fell a bit, unable to hide her envy.
“You didn’t want Lord Disapproving’s pups. You’ll find your own way, Clara.”
“I’ve chosen my own way, haven’t I? But time goes on and I’m not a girl anymore.” She shrugged. “With each passing year, I find myself even less inclined to tolerate interference in my household.”
“Of course I understand, Clara. I haven’t spoken of my motivation in coming to London and choosing what I did. I could have married in order to avoid my present circumstances. Perhaps a decent man, even. But the risks of his not being decent—finding myself dependent on someone I despised—are unacceptable.”
She nodded encouragingly to Stella.
“You never met my Mary. Even if you had…well, she was but a specter by then. It’s only recently that I remember her not as she was those last years or the miserable years before, but as a happy girl. We were the youngest of nine, and she was four years older. When she married and I was left alone, it was…a loss.”
Clara frowned but didn’t interrupt. This was the most she’d ever heard of Stella’s past.
“I was almost sixteen and about to be married,” revealed Stella. “My father gave me to another founder of the church whose wife had died—a widowed man older than my father, whose children were older than I. And Mary…Mary was married to a cruel sort. Lost her own son to his anger. By the time I was ready to leave, Mary didn’t want to live, I could tell, but I convinced her to fight for my sake. We ran away and came to London, where Ned couldn’t find us.”
“You’re very brave, Stella.”
She shrugged elegantly. “Fortunate as well. My father was the youngest son of a viscount before he turned his back on his family because they weren’t believers. He made sure we spoke properly and read the Bible.” Her smile was cold. “Of course, he hadn’t the slightest idea how invaluable my education would be as a prostitute.”
Clara laughed indelicately and raised her tea cup to her mouth to cover it.
“With the proper wardrobe, I gained admittance to decent locales. Imagine the lives of women who don’t have such options. Who service the worst men possible, in alleys, only to live in the wretched conditions. With few exceptions, my customers are decent. I earn enough for a comfortable life. I don’t have to obey any man. In any case, not for very long.”
“Do you…do you ever enjoy it?” Clara dared to ask.
“Not often. Not in the sense you mean. Certainly not enough to continue a single night longer than necessary. Just as you have your ‘box of memories,’ I have my nest egg. It will help me live through the next part of my life whenever that comes.”
“Whatdoyou want to happen in the next part?”
