Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

quite unaccountablyshe seemed to have no choice. "Do you perhaps have a parlor?" Danielleinquired sweetly. "Or somewhere where we may be private? Please do notconcern yourself about the dirt. It does not worry me in the least."

Mrs. Bumbry, who had never concerned herself about dirt except on hergirls' fingers when it might be transferred to the materials, lookedaround the small hallway with new eyes. She had conceived considerabledislike for this young woman who stood tapping an elegant booted footon the grimy floor, her cold brown eyes quite at variance with thepolite smile.

Mrs. Bumbry opened a door onto a small parlor of overstuffed chairs anddust-laden tables.

"Thank you." Danielle walked past her, whacked an armchair with herriding crop, stepped back as the dust rose, and decided to remain onher feet. "You have the indenture papers, madame?"

"Estelle's indentured to me for three years." Estelle also happened tohave the neatest fingers when it came to placing delicate stitches.

"Nevertheless, Mrs. Bumbry, I am come to break the indenture. We willagree on a price."

The other woman's eyes shifted. Maybe she could afford to lose Estellefor the right price. There were hundreds of others dying for want ofwork, maybe not so neat, but they could be trained. "'Ow much?"

"One hundred guineas." Danielle knew that it was much more than Mrs.Bumbry had paid for her slave girl and she knew also that it was onlythe beginning of the bargaining.

"I couldn't let 'er go fer that," Mrs. Bumbry whined. "One of my bestworkers, Estelle is. An' I spent months trainin' 'er."

On a starvation diet supplemented by a heavy hand, Danielle reflected."I would like to see her papers," she said. "You will understand that Icannot negotiate without seeing what I am negotiating for?" Her

tonewas benign, her manner reasonable, and Mrs. Bumbry decided that thegame was worth playing.

"Hundred and sixty," she said, laying Estelle's papers on the desk."Not a penny less. I worked with that girl for months and she don'teven speak the lingo."

"May I see?" Danielle moved round the desk and the next minute thepapers were in her hand. "One hundred guineas, Mrs. Bumbry. It is agreat deal more than you deserve."

"You give those back, you hear?" the woman shrieked. The door burstopen and a man twice the size of Mrs. Bumbry appeared.

"What's goin' on 'ere?"

"Nothing at all," Danielle said calmly. "Is this ... uh ... lady, yourwife? Because if so, I think you might be well advised to fetch thesmelling salts. She is a little distrait, you understand."

While they gobbled, one in fury, the other in total incomprehension,she tore the indenture papers into shreds and laid one hundred guineason the desk. "You may count them if you wish. But I think you will findthat the sum is correct." With that she swept from the room, crossedthe hall, and opened the door onto the sweatshop. "Estelle?" Her voicewas soft.

"Viens avec moi, petite."

The girl was perhaps ten, her eyes sunken in the pale face, and sheheld her body as if prepared for a blow. "What do you want of me,milady?" she whispered.

"Rien du tout, ma petite.

Iam come to take you home. Your

maman

hasneed of you." Estelle hesitated, her gaze darting fearfully toward thedoor. A yellowing bruise stood out on her cheek.

"Allons-y,

Estelle." Danielletook the girl's hand, conscious thatevery moment of hesitation lessened her advantage of surprise. When thetwo in the parlor recovered there was no knowing who they would summonto their assistance, and not even D'Evron knew that the Countess ofLinton was in Sheep's Alley thisafternoon. She had her pistol, of course, but it wasa threat best keptfor emergencies. She hustled the girl out of the house where thesedan-bearers still stood, picking their teeth and kicking thecobblestones.

When he saw the two of them, the leader spat into the kennel. "Cost yerdouble."

The scrawny Estelle and the far from ample Danielle weighedconsiderably less than a tall, well-muscled man. But Danielle was in nomood for argument.

"Qa va,"

she said shortly and pushed Estelle aheadof her. It didn't seem to matter that she had spoken French, hermeaning was quite clear to the chair-bearers who trotted off rapidly,away from this unsalubrious neighborhood.

Danielle had accepted that respect for her rank deteriorated in directratio to the distance she went from Grosvenor Square. An unaccompaniedwoman, however well dressed and haughty her bearing, was accorded scantrespect. Her money was all that mattered and the indefinable aura ofauthority that was created simply by the presence of the pistol in thedeep pocket of her habit.

She pushed aside the greasy leather curtain to give directions to thebearers and then scrunched up on the narrow seat beside Estelle, takingthe child half onto her lap. She explained that Estelle's father hadfound work in the kitchens of a hostelry on the outskirts of town. Hermother and the children would be lodged above the stables and Estellewas needed either to help in the hostelry or to watch the little oneswhile her mother worked. It was hardly an ideal situation for a familywho had once commanded three domestic servants and a successful, ifmodest,

epicerie

in CorbeilleEsson. But it was the best that D'Evroncould do for them and unimaginably better than the hovel in Eastgateand Estelle's servitude in Mr. Bumbry's sweatshop.

Danielle remained in the chair while Estelle ran into her mother'sarms, then gave the bearers instructions to return her to GrosvenorSquare. They were lean, fit young men, but their journey this afternoonhad been long and arduous. Danielle would have paid them off exceptthat she had no certainty of finding others to take their place in thesqualid slumswhere chair-bearers never penetrated. Besides, they would be paidhandsomely for their exertions and probably would not take kindly tolosing their customer to rivals, anyway.

Just before they reached Grosvenor Square, Danielle rapped sharply onthe wooden frame and the chair halted. "I will alight here. I thank youfor