20

20

D AISY WOKE UP AND for a moment was in a panic, uncertain where she was. She sat bolt upright as her memory came flooding back. The doctor had taken her to his grand mansion, given her a bath, fresh clothes, and a dinner of beef and potatoes, just as promised. There had been no demand for sexual favors as she'd expected—the man had not so much as put a hand on her. Instead, weary beyond all measure, it seemed she'd been allowed to fall asleep right there at the dinner table—only to wake up in this unfamiliar place.

She looked around. The room was spare, with a narrow but comfortable bed, a chair, and a bedside table with some books. The walls were of windowless stone. A riveted iron door stood at the far end, with a grated window, into which was set a small panel, also shut. A single taper burned on a table by her bedside. It was warm and dry—not at all like the Tombs—yet it had the feeling of a prison chamber.

Daisy tried to shake off the feeling of sleepiness. She felt grateful the man had not pressed himself upon her, but it also made her wonder: what was he after, if not that? She rose from the bed and went to the iron door; the handle was, as she expected, locked.

She went back to the bed and sat down. For the first time in months she was neither cold nor hungry. The clothes he'd given her were of good quality, a cotton dress and woolen shawl, along with clean, warm undergarments, stockings, and slippers.

She idly picked up one of the books on the bedside table and squinted at the title. The Light Princess , by George MacDonald. With a shock, she recognized it as a book her father had read to her as a child, about a princess who had no weight and floated everywhere. The unexpected sight of the book was like a knife twisting in her heart, and back flooded all the memories that, for five years now, she'd tried to suppress: her father, killed in the factory; her mother, dead of consumption; her little sister, dead of hunger—and herself now part of the lost sisterhood, forced like so many other penniless women to walk the streets in order to stay alive. She didn't know what this man—this doctor—wanted, but he hadn't tried to interfere with her; he'd promised to treat her with respect, and in fact he had, calling her "dear" and making sure she was warm and well fed.

She opened the book with a trembling hand.

Once upon a time, so long ago that I have quite forgotten the date, there lived a king and queen who had no children.

Reading was difficult and slow—it had been so long since she'd had anything of interest to read—and she found herself sounding the words out aloud as she went along. As she did so, more recollections came back—of her mother, teaching her to read. She felt so old and worthless now, so vile, even though she was only eighteen. If her father hadn't been drawn into the machinery, they'd still be living in their three rooms down on Peck's Slip at the bottom of Ferry, with the steamers coming and going and blowing their whistles, and maybe her with a seamstress job on Pearl Street and a young suitor bringing flowers—

She put the book down. What time was it? She got up from the bed again and went to the door. She knocked politely.

Nothing.

She knocked again, louder this time. "Hello? Dr. Leng?"

Again, nothing.

"Hello?"

She felt a twinge of alarm. What did he want? Despite his nice talk and the fancy meal and clean clothes, he seemed a strange, cold man, and thinking of him made her shiver.

Then she heard footsteps outside the door. She held her breath.

There was a grating of metal on metal, and the panel in the window grate slid open. The light beyond was dim, but she could see the doctor's wet lips glisten as he spoke.

"Please do not discompose yourself," he crooned. "All this will be over shortly. Forgive me for not playing the host at the present moment, but I have some pressing business to take care of. I assure you that, in the near future, I will be able to give you the benefit of my undivided attention."

"But, Doctor, sir—?" Daisy began, then stopped when she noticed the little panel had already shut with a rusty scraping sound.