The Bachelor's Bride (The Thompsons of Locust Street #1) - Holly Bush Page 0,1
have to pass the bawdy house—not that she was supposed to know it was a bawdy house or even know what a bawdy house was, but she did have ears and a brain between them and would have been hard-pressed not to understand the conversation she’d overheard between James and his friend MacAvoy. But as it was just ten in the morning, hopefully those ladies would still be abed. It was quiet as she passed by, with one lone woman hanging out a second-floor window in a sheer chemise, one shoulder strap hanging down her arm, with a shiny corset over top of it, which was scandalous enough, but it was red—bright, blood red! All satin and lace and nothing like her own white cotton undergarments. She wondered why a woman would want to wear such a thing, but then, with a second glance at the woman, now smiling at her and tapping a thin cigar against the brick sill, she knew. It would entice a man, but what kind? Surely not a good one! Elspeth shivered and hurried her steps.
A bell rang over her head as she entered the seamstress’s shop. “Hello, Mrs. Fendale! How are you this beautiful spring day?”
“Miss Thompson! How good to see you after this long winter! What may I help you with? A new hat, perhaps?”
Elspeth shook her head. “Oh no. I’m just doing some mending and have run out of blue thread.” She ran her fingertips over lace lying out on the glass-top counter. “How beautiful! Maybe I will take a yard or two of this to add to Kirsty’s best dress.”
“It’s a very lovely lace, made right here in our neighborhood,” Mrs. Fendale said with a smile. “How much shall I cut for you?”
“I think two yards. It will be perfect to liven up one of last year’s dresses.”
While Mrs. Fendale tied the cut ends of the lace and wrapped the purchases, her son Ezra came out from between the dark hanging curtains that led to the back of the shop where the seamstresses and hatmakers worked. His head dipped into a nod as he smiled shyly, and a blush crept up his face.
“Good morning, Ezra.” Elspeth smiled at the younger man.
“G-G-Good morning, Miss Thompson,” he said and swallowed.
“Here, Ezra.” Mrs. Fendale handed her packages to him. “Carry Miss Thompson’s things for her until she crosses the street.”
“I’ll be fine, Mrs. Fendale. No need to take Ezra away from whatever work he’s doing for you.”
“His work will still be here when he returns, and I’ll feel better knowing he’s with you until you’ve passed this block,” she said and shook her head. “To think that those hussies ply . . .” Mrs. Fenway glanced at her wide-eyed son and then at Elspeth and closed her mouth.
“Good day to you, Mrs. Fenway, and thank you,” Elspeth said with a smile.
“Good day, Miss Thompson.”
Ezra followed her out of his mother’s shop, holding the wrapped lace under his arm. “You needn’t walk behind me, Ezra.” She took the lace from his hands and put it in her bag along with the thread.
The young man hurried to walk beside her, keeping pace with her swift stride. Elspeth tilted her face to the sun, feeling its warmth, letting it seep into her muscles and make her feel as if all things she’d dreamed of were possible. That pleasurable feeling did not last long.
“Get your hands off me, you filthy copper,” a woman shouted.
Elspeth looked up at the doorway of the bawdy house she was nearing. There was an older man, with mutton chops and a nearly bald head, being dragged out the door by a younger man in a dark suit. The woman who had shouted, the one in the chemise and red corset Elspeth had seen earlier, was hanging on to the bald man’s sleeve, trying to drag him back inside the brick row house. There were no policemen in sight, but a crowd had gathered, mostly consisting of the young men who’d taunted Elspeth on her walk to Mrs. Fenway’s.
“’E ain’t going nowheres until ’e ’ands over me fee,” she screamed and yanked on the bald man’s jacket. Elspeth heard a ripping sound. The woman reached around the bald man and kicked at the younger man with a pointy-toed shoe.
“Ouch,” he said and rubbed his thigh with his loose. “Let go of him, and I’ll pay you.”
The woman spit at the younger man, and the bald one found his footing and cuffed the woman hard