Death in the Peerless Pool (24 page)

Women for hire abounded on every side of the square, encouraged by the fact that they were partially hidden beneath the shadow of the Piazza's arches. Fresh-faced girls from the country, unable to afford the fare home, offered themselves; milliners, seamstresses and other tradeswomen strove to enhance their meagre wages; bloated, savage whores, clap-riddled and poxy, promised customers a carnal experience in a dark alley for a shilling; wretched servants, dismissed from their employment because they had been seduced by the master or the footman – or both – begged for trade in order that they might eat.

Horribly fascinated, John could hardly credit the difference in their ages and was aghast that skinny little things of twelve, their meagre bodies not yet fully developed, should have to walk alongside raddled strumpets of seventy in order to ply their wretched trade. Producing a coin, he linked arms with a runt of a creature and took her to the door of The Shakespeare Head, where he paid her and let her go. Nicholas, who had not had the foresight to fend off the drabs, literally had to fight free of all the arms trying to grab him as he, too, stepped into the tavern.

It was a seedy place, thick with pipe smoke and the stench of stale ale and sweaty bodies. Set out in a series of boxes, in which blustering boys and blowsy buttocks sat drinking their fill before they moved to the private apartments above, the main room had a second leading off it where piquet was being played for feverishly high stakes. Lumbering between the two rooms, waiting on table, was, John felt reasonably certain, the man he had come to see, the arch-procurer himself, Jack Harris.

Tall and thin, Harris none the less had hunched shoulders and a flabby beer paunch. But it was his face which interested the Apothecary, who considered it one of the most unappealing he had ever seen. Wispy grey hair surrounded an enormous, moon-like, heavily chinned visage, in which bulging short-sighted eyes, a pitted nose and blubbery lips were the predominant features. Huge gappy teeth, badly chipped and brown with tobacco, appeared as the procurer opened his mouth to breathe, confirming John's theory that he was adenoidal.

‘Is that him?' Nicholas whispered, following the Apothecary's gaze.

‘I think so. I'll call him over.' He clicked his fingers, and the waiter looked up. ‘Mr Harris?' The man nodded. ‘Would you be so good as to serve this table.' John winked.

The other smiled knowingly. ‘Straight away, Sir.'

The Apothecary fixed Nicholas with a look and lowered his voice. ‘I am about to act out a role. Do not be shocked at anything you hear.'

‘I was at sea, remember, Master.'

‘Let's hope the experience stands you in good stead. And don't call me Master. You are a young debauchee. As depraved in thought and deed as I am.'

And with those words the Apothecary slanted his brows up at the ends, narrowed his eyes and put such a dark, evil look on his face that his apprentice was quite startled that the affable and friendly John Rawlings could command such a demonic countenance.

‘How may I help you, Sir?' asked Harris, bowing as he approached.

‘I think you know how,' John answered, once more winking an eye.

‘You wish to see my list of Covent Garden ladies?'

‘In a way, yes, I do.'

Jack Harris pursed his large, moist mouth. ‘I don't quite understand you, Sir.'

‘I would like to see your list of young ladies, my friend. Nothing over fifteen interests me at all. Besides which, I have a certain enthusiasm.'

‘Most gentlemen have,' Harris answered thickly, leaning down so that he could whisper. Close to, it could be observed that his bulbous lower lip was also stained by constant use of a pipe. He had to be, John thought, one of the most unattractive specimens ever born.

‘I'm sure they do. But only mine concerns me.'

Harris looked wise and tapped the side of his nose. ‘May I guess at it?'

‘By all means.'

‘You are particularly excited by defloration.'

John's expression became lewd to the point of depravity. ‘How clever of you to know.'

‘Then I am right?'

The Apothecary nodded. ‘What do you have on offer for tonight?'

Harris fingered his several chins. ‘Well, I have a Nelly Blossom, so new to town her feet are still wet with dew. No man's been near her, I can assure you of that.'

John's eyes glistened. ‘She sounds very interesting. How much?'

‘Twenty guineas.'

‘And her age?'

Jack Harris's myopic gaze glazed slightly. ‘I'm not too sure, Sir.'

‘Is she fifteen or more?'

‘I think she could be.'

‘Then I am not interested. What else do you have?'

‘Well, there's little Miss Molly. Her teeth aren't up to much but she has incomparably fine legs which are yet to grip a saddle.'

‘I can't abide poor teeth,' the Apothecary answered, with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘What else?'

There was no doubt that Harris was racking his brains. Virgins were specially prepared for those with defloration mania, but were not always in plentiful supply. John decided to help him out.

‘I don't mind someone entirely new, untrained. Indeed, I quite like 'em raw.'

The procurer looked thoughtful. ‘I believe Mrs Tredille had something brought in today. Something utterly unpolished, in fact with no instruction at all. Might be a bit of a handful, mind.'

The Apothecary twitched his brows. ‘What fun!'

Harris's moon face grew surly. ‘Pardon me for mentioning it, Sir, but what about your companion here? I hope that you weren't expecting two for the price of one.'

Nicholas blushed crimson but managed to mutter, ‘I pay my own way.'

‘Then that's all right then,' answered Harris, all smiles and winks again.

‘That's as may be,' John put in. ‘Tell me how old this unpolished thing is before I take a look at it.'

‘Fourteen – or so she claims.'

The Apothecary stood up. ‘Has she been put in a bagnio window yet?'

‘She most certainly has. I'll get a boy to escort you.'

‘Well,' said John, rubbing his hands together, ‘this is obviously going to be a very exciting night.'

And he smiled at Nicholas, who had broken out in a sweat at the sheer stress of it all.

Since the Roman invasion of Britain, there had always been public baths of one kind or another, even though from time to time they had fallen out of fashion. Baths were forgotten after the Romans left, but the returning Crusaders had reintroduced the population to the benefits of a Turkish bath, as the warriors called them. Indeed, a famous and respectable bath establishment in St James's Street was still called The Turk's Head even after so many centuries. Commonly known as ‘stews', the baths had thrived in earlier times, but immoral business done on the side had brought objections from the Church, and many had been closed down. However, in Covent Garden they flourished, the bath just a cover, the real function of the place, prostitution.

Every bagnio had a window, and from seven at night until five in the morning these windows were filled by whores of every size and shape who, in the most impudent manner, invited customers to come inside. Hoping that he was not going to see Mary Ann in such degrading circumstances, but fairly certain that he was about to, the Apothecary followed the lantern-carrying boy away from the Piazza and down a side street. Here, deviation was king. Every house was devoted to pleasure of one kind or another, and every sixth building had the familiar lighted window with a female sitting in it. Repelled but drawn, John could not help but stare at the flesh on display, some of it very beautiful, some repulsive: fat, thin, black, white, very fair, raven-haired. Every possible combination of female charms was on display, all tastes catered for.

‘We're nearly at the young un's place now, Sir,' said the boy, calling back over his shoulder.

‘What do you mean?'

‘The stew we're coming to is the kinchen's. There's no one over sixteen as works there. Mrs Tredille runs it but she's the only one full-fledged in the place.'

‘Except for the customers,' John put in drily.

The boy said, ‘What?', then laughed and repeated, ‘Except for the gen'lemen.'

‘What do we do if it is Mary Ann?' whispered Nicholas.

‘I say I want to hire her, then somehow we steal her away.'

‘Isn't that going to be difficult?'

‘We'll have to judge the lie of the land when we get there. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll have to send you to find the Runners.'

‘Pray we can do it ourselves. I don't want them to think ill of Mary Ann.'

‘We can't be certain it is her in the bagnio at the moment. But you re right, if she's there the less Bow Street people who know about it, the better.'

‘Does that include Mr Fielding?'

‘I'm not certain yet.'

‘We're here,' called the boy, and stopped short.

John and Nicholas stood transfixed, staring into the window, struck to the heart with horror.

They had dressed Mary Ann like a doll, her face painted, her hair bouncing round her head in a mass of ringlets. But to ruin the effect she had wept, in fact was sobbing even as they watched her, smudging her maquillage and covering her face with streaks.

‘I'm going in,' said Nicholas, and would have run into the building had not John stayed his arm.

‘Don't be so hasty. You'll ruin everything. We must carry the plan through whatever happens.'

‘But she's suffering.'

‘Not for much longer. Now, be calm.' John raised his voice. ‘Run back and tell Mr Harris I like her,' he said to the boy. ‘Here's a coin for your trouble.'

‘Thank you. Sir.'

‘Now, in we go,' he said.

The bagnio, probably because it was so specialised, catering for those whose needs could only be satisfied by the very young, almost had the air of a nursery about it. Every corner was carpeted, there was no noise or uproar; indeed, a feeling of luxury and pleasure pervaded the atmosphere. To add to the general quiet, there seemed absolutely no one in sight as they came through the front door, though lurking in shadowy corners John could make out the shapes of several hulking men, the bully-backs employed by brothels to throw out unruly clients. However, all charm and smiles, seated behind a large desk in the spacious hall, was Mrs Tredille herself, a vivacious redhead. no more than forty years old.

She got to her feet and curtseyed as John and Nicholas approached. ‘Good evening, gentlemen. How may I help you?'

‘We have been sent here by Jack Harris,' the Apothecary answered. ‘He told us about the girl in the window, and to be frank with you I am more than interested. So interested, indeed, that I would like to hire her, my friend to follow immediately afterwards.'

Mrs Tredille dimpled a smile. ‘I must warn you, Sir, that she is completely new. We've had no time to train her. She'll probably put up a bit of a fight.'

‘As I told Harris, I might find that quite stimulating.'

‘Then, gentlemen, if you would like to have a Turkish bath and some champagne, we'll take the girl upstairs for you.'

‘We won't bother with the bath but the champagne will be in order.'

‘Excellent.' Mrs Tredille rang a little bell. ‘By the way, Sir, payment is always in advance. Twenty guineas. Each.'

‘I am treating my young friend,' the Apothecary answered smoothly, and felt for his pocket book, praying that he had enough money on him.

Fortunately he had had the foresight to borrow from the shop, a bad habit but useful on this occasion, avoiding any possible hitch in his role as a rich young pervert, able to squander money to satisfy his degraded whims. And John was still acting out this part, a look of lecherous delight on his face, his tongue flicking over his lips, as he finally climbed the opulent staircase and was shown along a softly carpeted corridor.

Mrs Tredille, who had lit his way with a candelabra, curtseyed once more outside a door. ‘We have dressed her prettily for you, Sir, but she's had no training in manners. Still I hope you will be satisfied,' and she turned the door knob. ‘Mary Ann,' she called, ‘here's your first gentleman. Now just you behave yourself or you'll fetch up with a beating.'

Silently, the Apothecary stepped inside and looked around him. The room was decorated in deep red, the hangings of the great bed the same opulent colour as the walls, the sheets and pillows, by contrast, virgin white. In the midst of this sensuous elegance, sitting up and hugging her knees, sat the Blind Beak's niece, her eyes enormous in a chalk-pale face, her small stature dwarfed by her surroundings, her shapely young body naked but for a lace shift.

‘If you come near me I shall kill you,' she whispered defiantly, though her lower lip trembled at the hopelessness of her situation.

‘No need for that,' the Apothecary answered, and stepped out of the shadows. ‘I'm here to take you home, you horrible child, despite the fact that you've led me one of the most impossible dances of my life.'

Mary Ann hesitated, looking at him with all the special beauty of a girl on the very brink of maturity. ‘Oh don't be cross with me, Mr Rawlings,' she said pitifully, and broke down into a sad and sobbing little bundle of humanity that begged to be taken care of.

‘And how, my dear boy,' said Sir Gabriel, his voice rising in a crescendo of incredulity, ‘did you ever get the wretched child out of such a sink of iniquity?'

John waved a hand to show that he was chewing a vast amount of toast and marmalade.

‘With immense difficulty,' he answered after a convulsive swallow. ‘Nick and I had made a last-minute plan, speaking in whispers over the champagne. He was to announce that he was going for a stroll while he waited for me – as the money had already been paid we knew there would be no objection to that – then search round the entire area for the Runners and return with them. We had hoped not to involve anyone else but could not see an alternative. In the event, though, Nick couldn't find them and came across Sukie, the female peacher. It so transpires that she has several little bastards and consequently no time for the likes of Mrs Tredille. In a short space of time she rallied several of her larger friends, to say nothing of Little Will, and they all came charging into the bagnio like the hounds of hell, waving cudgels and God alone knows what else. Hearing the racket, I bolted down the stairs with Mary Ann and threw a few fists to get us out into the street.