When Stars Fall at Midnight, page 19
Next, she helped me into the dress. “No need for a corset,” Petunia said, buttoning the back. “You have the type of figure everyone wishes they had.”
“Like a board, you mean?”
“Exactly.” She nodded, her expression serious. “Fashion wants us to be as skinny as a prepubescent boy.” She patted her generous hips. “No such luck here.” She stood back to get a better look at me. “It fits like a glove.”
She was right. The beaded dress now fit perfectly, with a hemline just above my ankles. I looked at myself in the full mirror. The woman who stared back at me looked like a different person from the one I’d been just a year ago. I was alive. That was the important thing to remember.
I thought of the cold room and cot back at the boardinghouse. Tonight Mrs. O’Grady would serve what she called chicken soup, but there was not so much as a beak or a foot in that broth. Every night I shivered under the meager blanket, hugging myself for warmth. Instead, tonight, I would sleep in the comfortable bed in this pretty room.
Tomorrow, I would go back to my life and look for work in a factory. I couldn’t live as a prostitute.
Petunia stood back to take one last look at me. “You look quite fine, Miss Stella. Now, off you go. The ladies are waiting for you.”
I hadn’t caught sight of the others who shared our suite. They’d all been busy bathing and getting dressed for the evening. The other five were already gathered in the sitting room, sprawled on various sofas, the fire shedding a pleasant warmth. Luella introduced me to the two I hadn’t yet met.
Ginnie was a redhead with a large bosom and big green eyes. She came from Georgia and spoke with such a thick accent that I had to listen carefully to understand what she said. Susannah, a recent immigrant from Poland, possessed a pair of dark brown eyes and hair as black as the night. She was more handsome than pretty, with a square jaw and wide shoulders. Her hair was shorn into one of the modern bobs, and bangs framed bright blue eyes.
Ginnie appraised me and seemed to find me adequate, because she held out a hand to give me a quick squeeze. “Goodness me, you’re shaking like a leaf.”
“I’m scared,” I said honestly. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Don’t worry, kid,” Maxine said. “We’ll look after you.”
“There’s a lot of business conducted downstairs,” Ginnie said. “With some shady characters. You’ll do best to act like you don’t understand anything they’re saying. It’s safer that way.”
“And whatever you do, don’t repeat anything you hear downstairs,” Maxine said. “These racketeers are ruthless and violent.”
“Violent?” I asked, squeaking.
“Not to us but to one another,” Ginnie said. “Turf wars and such.”
“Don’t worry about all that tonight.” Maxine poured a splash of white liquor into a glass and added a few ice cubes. “Anyone want any hooch before we go down?”
Everyone but me asked for a glass. I watched in amazement as they all tossed back the liquor as if it were water.
“What do I do when I get down there?” I asked.
Luella poured another splash of booze in her glass. “Laugh at their jokes. Make sure they all have a drink in their hands at all times.”
“Sit on their laps if they ask you,” Maxine said. “But keep a lookout for one you can make your special friend. We like our regulars, don’t we girls?
“We’re the luckiest of all the girls,” Maxine said. “She puts us all together in this suite because we’re the prettiest and have the best manners. Also, we know how to speak to a man that makes him feel good.”
“And we all have consistent regulars who treat us nice,” Ginnie said. “Miss Scarlet loves us for it and rewards us with the best rooms.”
“That’s why I can’t figure out why you’re here,” Susannah said, not rudely exactly, but with a hint of hostility behind her smile.
“Miss Scarlet’s hoping she’ll stay,” Maxine said. “Because she’s pretty and seems like a rich girl.”
“Educated,” Luella said. “She’s the perfect Scarlet girl, ain’t she?”
“Isn’t she,” Maxine said.
“Right. Sorry.” Luella flushed. “Stella, it’s only ’cause I look like I do, or I’d be in the north wing. Miss Scarlet likes us to have good grammar and elo—what’s the word?”
“Elocution,” Maxine said, smiling.
Soon, the six of us sauntered down the stairs, everyone talking and laughing at once. Except for me. I was so frightened I couldn’t feel my feet or my hands.
We walked into a room filled with smoke, collecting near the ceiling. A ragtime band played a lively tune from one corner. Several young male servers carried around trays of champagne. Another made drinks behind a counter. If I had not known better, I would have thought I was in the home of one of my father’s friends throwing a bash. But no. I was in a brothel.
Miss Scarlet appeared by my side, as if from thin air. “You look ravishing.”
She did as well, wearing a purple gown that flattered her complexion.
“You can stay close by my side tonight, if you’d like. I’ll introduce you to the men.”
For the next thirty minutes, I was paraded around and introduced as the “new girl.” The men were as varied as men from any walk of life. Short, fat, tall, thin, old, and young. Some dressed in flashy suits. Others dressed as my father did, in a conservative, well-cut suit.
A glass of champagne was shoved into my hand by a lanky gentleman and before I understood what was happening, I was seated at his table. Luella was also there, perched on a rotund man’s knee and playing with what was left of his hair.
I drank the champagne quickly, hoping that it would numb me, make me less aware. Soon, it had taken effect and I felt buoyant and glamorous. A young man asked me to dance and I said yes without thinking. Soon, I was being twirled around the dance floor. I danced with at least six men, one after the other, forgetting where I was and actually enjoying myself. Finally, I thought, something I could do well. Dancing had been taught to me from an early age. If only it had been something useful.
I collapsed into a chair, hot and tired from all the dancing. Another glass of champagne made its way into my hand and then down my throat.
Servers carried silver trays with meatballs, tiny sandwiches, and small bowls of fresh shrimp. I ate whatever was presented to me, relishing the flavors and textures. How much I’d taken for granted when I lived with my parents. If only I could go back and savor each delicacy and comfort.
I could never go back. That truth hit me anew, as it had almost daily since I left home. Losing the Bancrofts had opened the wounds that I’d thought had at least partially healed, but I’d been mistaken. I had not recovered from my traumas, only masked them by falling head over heels with another family. At least Percival and Mrs. Bancroft had been nice to me. For a time. Until I was a problem. Something they wanted to forget. What happened to a girl no one wanted to remember?
She ended up in a brothel, fighting for her life by opening her legs.
Miss Scarlet came sailing toward me. “You’re doing very well. Some of our finest gentlemen have asked about you. I’ve made them thirstier by saying you’re not available this evening.”
I swallowed hard. Tomorrow I would be available. “Do they come here on Christmas?”
Miss Scarlet peered at me, lifting her thin brows. “Darling, they come any day of the year. Men’s appetites do not fall whim to a holiday.”
“Right. Of course.”
“We have a grand Christmas feast tomorrow night. Any of the men who can slip away, do so. I take pride in showing them the best night of their year. You should be prepared.”
Prepared.
“If you play the game correctly, my dear, I predict a lucrative future for you. You’re pretty enough one of them will want you for himself. You’ll end up in some penthouse suite. For now, however, I’m happy to teach you the trade.”
She was called away by one of the servers, asking about shrimp. I looked around the room for Luella or Maxine but they’d disappeared. They’d taken men upstairs, I realized.
Could I stay here? Give myself to strangers night after night? Or would I live a life of poverty and loneliness, toiling away like so many other women for little pay and no rewards?
I stood, preparing myself to dance some more. A server hurried over and took my empty plate. I turned toward the front entrance, and that’s when I saw him.
It was not my father as I’d feared, but no other than Percival Bancroft.
I wanted to run and hide, but it was too late. He’d spotted me. His eyes widened, staring at me as if I were a ghost rather than a woman of flesh and blood dressed in a fine gown.
I froze, standing there for what felt like an eternity as he crossed the room toward me.
19
Estelle
By the time he reached me, I trembled from head to toe.
“What are you doing here?” Percival growled, glaring down at me, nostrils flared.
“It’s absolutely none of your concern.” I tried to sound brave and flippant, but it came out no louder than a whisper.
“Do you realize what kind of place this is?”
“Do you?” I glared back at him, defiance building. How dare he come in here and pass judgment? Anyway, he was here too, so what could he possibly say about it without convicting himself?
Miss Scarlet caught my eye from where she stood by the bar. I waved and smiled, hoping to indicate all was well.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have friends to visit with,” I said, raising my chin.
“What in God’s name has happened to you?” Percival took me by the elbow, hustling me out of the room and into the quiet foyer.
“What do you mean?” I thought I looked nice in my new dress and with my hair fixed. Everything was tasteful, as Miss Scarlet dictated.
“You’re as thin as my neighbor’s greyhound.”
“You’re comparing me to a dog?”
“I suppose I am,” he said grimly.
“I’ve been at a boardinghouse with little to eat and long days on foot looking for work.”
A look of guilt passed over his patrician features. Good, I thought. I hoped he felt terrible for turning me out onto the street. As soon as I thought it, I silently repented. It was my lie that had caused our rift. That and the fact that my father was a murderer and wrecker of lives.
“This isn’t a boardinghouse,” he said, with the same growl in his voice as earlier.
“I’m quite aware of that.”
“And?” One eyebrow raised as he stared into my eyes. “You’re contemplating life as a prostitute? Please tell me I’ve misunderstood something here.” He pressed his fingers into his high cheekbones, as if they ached. In addition, a muscle on the side of his face twitched.
I wanted to turn away, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to do so. “If you must know, I was invited here as a guest of Miss Scarlet’s by one of the girls who lived at the boardinghouse with me. Luella is her name. We ran into each other in the park, and she invited me here for something to eat. It’s the first decent meal I’ve had since I was unceremoniously asked to leave yet another home I’d grown to love.”
“Where did you get the dress? If you haven’t had enough to eat, I find it difficult to believe you could afford it. Unless?” His gaze traveled the length of me. Clearly, he didn’t like what I wore. Who cares, I told myself. He’s nothing to me. An acquaintance at best. A friend wouldn’t have asked me to leave his home simply because of who my father was. Yes, I lied, but still. The kindness I thought the tenet of his life had disappeared the moment my true identity was revealed. I couldn’t blame him for it, though. Not really.
“The dress is on loan for tonight, so I don’t stand out for all the wrong reasons at this fine event. I didn’t have anything appropriate, thus Miss Scarlet was generous enough to offer it to me.”
“Generous? There’s nothing generous about that woman. She’s a cold, hard businesswoman. Women like her have only one thing in mind—how can they exploit pretty young women to line her own pockets?”
“And?” I asked, mimicking his earlier sarcastic question.
“And what?”
“And, it seems to me you have no higher moral ground from which to judge me. You’re here too. Wait, don’t tell me. You’re here to make a business deal.” I smirked, glad to see the glint I’d caused in his eyes. He was a hypocrite, and he knew it. I fluttered my eyelashes, feigning innocence. “I’m confused. What kind of business does a doctor conduct in a place like this? What would a visit here give to you? Unless it was to provide for a less-than-wholesome desire of yours?” Here I’d thought he’d been so loyal to his wife. Living as a monk. Why did men always disappoint me? “I mean, Mr. Bancroft, I’m shocked. Here I thought you were so devoted to your wife that you couldn’t fathom an affair with me.”
His mouth dropped open, then clenched. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Are you enjoying yourself? Mocking me is a great sport, isn’t it?”
“Passing judgment on a woman like me—one with few choices and facing life on the streets. Is that enjoyable to you?” My fists clenched at my side. How I would love to punch his smug face. Not that I knew how to throw a punch, but the idea of it sounded very satisfying.
Why was it bothering me so much that he was here? Because he wasn’t who I thought he was. Not the man I’d fallen in love with. Instead, he was as morally abhorrent as the rest of the men in the room. He’d played the role of dutiful husband, son, and father so well. But this is who he really was. A man who visited a brothel.
“Listen to me, Miss Sullivan.” He said my last name as though he had something sour in his mouth. “What I do with my leisure time is no business of yours.”
“Touché,” I said.
He sighed, and for a moment I thought he would walk away. Instead, he seemed to let go of pretenses. Suddenly, he was the same Percival I’d known from that first day on the train. “Stella, are you really going to stay here? Live this kind of life? Have you already been with a man here?”
I wanted to tell him yes, and that I loved it here, lying with a different man every night. Instead, I said the truth. “I already told you. I arrived today and was fed a warm meal and given a room to nap and then a bath and this beautiful gown. Will I stay and do what it takes to make this my home? I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” More flared nostrils.
“I was contemplating this very question when you found me tonight. Stay in this warm, luxurious home and enjoy a full stomach and a soft place to sleep at night or go back to the boardinghouse and wait for Mrs. O’Grady to kick me out at the first of the year.”
“Why are you getting kicked out of the boardinghouse?”
“Because I don’t have rent money,” I said. “I have nothing left from the wages your mother gave me. Haven’t you been listening? I have no references or skills. I’m not even qualified to be a maid. I’ll be forced to do some other kind of factory work or die in the streets.”
He flinched and stepped backward as if I’d smacked him. “Surely it won’t come to that?”
“What don’t you understand about my situation? You and your mother took me in or this all would have happened earlier. I was lulled into thinking I had a home with you and work I could be proud of. But that was all gone in an instant because of who I really am. I’m the daughter of a criminal who destroyed your life. No one wants me around except Miss Scarlet. Why shouldn’t I stay?”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking older than his years. “We’ve done this to you.” It was not a question.
“You saved me and then you sent me off to the lion’s den.” I could not keep the sadness from my voice. “It might have been better just to let me die on the train that night.”
He didn’t answer, other than to take a flask from the inner pocket of his jacket and take a swig.
“There are drinks here, you know,” I said.
“I’m aware.”
“Well, great to see you, Doctor Bancroft. But if you don’t mind, I should return to the party. Miss Scarlet asked me to participate fully.”
“I do mind.”
“What?” His answer jarred me, keeping me from moving around him to return to the parlor.
“I do mind. You cannot do this, Stella. Estelle. Whatever your name is. This will set in motion a terrible ending to your life.”
“I’m not your problem,” I said. “We all agreed on that when I left.”
“I care about you,” Percival said. “You know that.”
I ignored him. “Here I thought you were a saint, only to find out you’re as much a slave to your desires as the rest of us.”
He flinched again as if I’d hit him. “Don’t. Just don’t.”
“Why? Does it hurt to hear the truth? How are you any better than me? Other than you don’t need to lie with a woman in order to survive? You’re a married man at a brothel. The truth is the truth.”
“Stella, please.” Tears glistened in his eyes. The pain I witnessed on his face made me immediately sorry for what I’d said. I was lashing out, trying to hurt him the way he’d hurt me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, voice softening with the rest of me. “It’s your life to do with as you please. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to the party.”
I slipped by him before he could say anything further. His lies or platitudes, if he were to offer them, meant nothing to me now. He’d saved my life and then sent me into hell all alone. He was just like every other man I knew, selfish and disloyal.
20
Estelle
The rest of the night passed in a blur of champagne and dancing. When the clock struck midnight, I was surprised the time had gone so quickly. Percival and I had avoided each other for the most part. He’d not danced or interacted with the girls. Instead he’d sat near the band, smoking cigarettes, drinking whiskey, and from what I could tell, sulking. I didn’t know what he had to feel so sorry for himself about. I was the one facing a life on the streets.
