Read The Women of Nell Gwynne's for Free Online Page A
Authors: Kage Baker
sufficiently alarmed to take steps. Fortunately, Lord Basmond has given us an opportunity. It will, however, require a certain amount of, ah, immoral behavior."
"And so you have come to us," said Mrs. Corvey, with a wry smile.
"It will also require bravery. And quick wits," Mr. Greene added, coloring slightly. "Lord Basmond sent out a request to a well-known establishment for a party of four, er, girls to supply entertainment for his guests. We intercepted the request. We require four volunteers from amongst your ladies here, Mrs. Corvey, to send to the affair."
"And what are we to do, other than service millionaires?" asked Lady Beatrice. Mr. Greene coughed.
"You understand, it is strictly voluntary—but we want to know what sort of invention could fetch a price only a millionaire could pay. Is it, for example, something that touches on our national security? And we need to know what has become of the man we got inside."
"We shall be happy to oblige," said Mrs. Corvey, with a graceful wave of her hand.
"We would be profoundly grateful, Ma'am." Mr. Greene stood and bowed, offering her the file case. "All particulars are here. Communication on the usual frequency. I shall leave the matter in your capable hands, Ma'am."
He turned to depart, and abruptly turned back. Very red in the face now, he took Lady Beatrice's hand and, after a fumbling moment of indecision, shook it awkwardly.
"God bless you, my dear," he blurted. "First to volunteer. You do your father credit." He fled for the reception chamber, and a moment later they heard him departing in the ascending room.
"Am I to assume there are certain dangers we may face?" said Lady Beatrice.
"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Corvey, who had opened the file case and was examining the documents within. "But then, what whore does not endure hazards?"
"And do we do this sort of work very often?" "We do." Mrs. Corvey looked up at her, smiling slightly. "We are no common whores, dear."
----
SEVEN:
In which Visitors arrive at Basmond Hall
A S THE VILLAGE of Little Basmond was some distance from the nearest railway line, they took a hired coach into Hertfordshire. Mrs. Corvey sat wedged into a corner of the coach, studying the papers in the file case, as the Devere sisters chattered about every conceivable subject. Lady Beatrice gazed out the window at the rolling hills, green even in winter, unlike any that she had ever known. The streets of London were a realm out of nature, easy to learn, since one city is in its essentials like any other; but the land was another matter. Lady Beatrice found it all lovely, in its greenness, in the vastness of the tracts of woodland with their austere gray branches; but her senses were still attuned to a hotter, dryer, brighter place. She wondered whether she would come in time to grow accustomed to—she very nearly said Home to herself, and then concluded that the word had lost any real meaning.
"... but it was only fifty-four inches wide, and so I was obliged to buy fifteen yards rather than what the pattern called for—" Jane was saying, when Mrs. Corvey cleared her throat. All fell silent at once, looking at her expectantly.
"Arthur Charles Fitzhugh Rawdon," she said, and drew out a slip of pasteboard the size of a playing card. Lady Beatrice leaned forward to peer at it. It appeared to be a copy of a daguerreotype. Its subject, holding his lapels and looking self-important, stood beside a Roman column against a painted backdrop of Pompeii. Lord Basmond was slender and pale, with small regular features and eyes of liquid brilliance; Lady Beatrice had thought him handsome, but for the fact that his eyes were set somewhat close together.
"Our host," said Mrs. Corvey. "Or our employer, if you like; one or all of you may be required to do him."
"What a pretty fellow!" said Maude.
"He looks bad-tempered, though," observed Dora.
"And I am quite sure all of you are practiced enough in the art of being agreeable to avoid
"And so you have come to us," said Mrs. Corvey, with a wry smile.
"It will also require bravery. And quick wits," Mr. Greene added, coloring slightly. "Lord Basmond sent out a request to a well-known establishment for a party of four, er, girls to supply entertainment for his guests. We intercepted the request. We require four volunteers from amongst your ladies here, Mrs. Corvey, to send to the affair."
"And what are we to do, other than service millionaires?" asked Lady Beatrice. Mr. Greene coughed.
"You understand, it is strictly voluntary—but we want to know what sort of invention could fetch a price only a millionaire could pay. Is it, for example, something that touches on our national security? And we need to know what has become of the man we got inside."
"We shall be happy to oblige," said Mrs. Corvey, with a graceful wave of her hand.
"We would be profoundly grateful, Ma'am." Mr. Greene stood and bowed, offering her the file case. "All particulars are here. Communication on the usual frequency. I shall leave the matter in your capable hands, Ma'am."
He turned to depart, and abruptly turned back. Very red in the face now, he took Lady Beatrice's hand and, after a fumbling moment of indecision, shook it awkwardly.
"God bless you, my dear," he blurted. "First to volunteer. You do your father credit." He fled for the reception chamber, and a moment later they heard him departing in the ascending room.
"Am I to assume there are certain dangers we may face?" said Lady Beatrice.
"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Corvey, who had opened the file case and was examining the documents within. "But then, what whore does not endure hazards?"
"And do we do this sort of work very often?" "We do." Mrs. Corvey looked up at her, smiling slightly. "We are no common whores, dear."
----
SEVEN:
In which Visitors arrive at Basmond Hall
A S THE VILLAGE of Little Basmond was some distance from the nearest railway line, they took a hired coach into Hertfordshire. Mrs. Corvey sat wedged into a corner of the coach, studying the papers in the file case, as the Devere sisters chattered about every conceivable subject. Lady Beatrice gazed out the window at the rolling hills, green even in winter, unlike any that she had ever known. The streets of London were a realm out of nature, easy to learn, since one city is in its essentials like any other; but the land was another matter. Lady Beatrice found it all lovely, in its greenness, in the vastness of the tracts of woodland with their austere gray branches; but her senses were still attuned to a hotter, dryer, brighter place. She wondered whether she would come in time to grow accustomed to—she very nearly said Home to herself, and then concluded that the word had lost any real meaning.
"... but it was only fifty-four inches wide, and so I was obliged to buy fifteen yards rather than what the pattern called for—" Jane was saying, when Mrs. Corvey cleared her throat. All fell silent at once, looking at her expectantly.
"Arthur Charles Fitzhugh Rawdon," she said, and drew out a slip of pasteboard the size of a playing card. Lady Beatrice leaned forward to peer at it. It appeared to be a copy of a daguerreotype. Its subject, holding his lapels and looking self-important, stood beside a Roman column against a painted backdrop of Pompeii. Lord Basmond was slender and pale, with small regular features and eyes of liquid brilliance; Lady Beatrice had thought him handsome, but for the fact that his eyes were set somewhat close together.
"Our host," said Mrs. Corvey. "Or our employer, if you like; one or all of you may be required to do him."
"What a pretty fellow!" said Maude.
"He looks bad-tempered, though," observed Dora.
"And I am quite sure all of you are practiced enough in the art of being agreeable to avoid