18. Estelle

18

Estelle

T he maid took me downstairs to the kitchen, where several women were preparing finger sandwiches and other small bites. A plump woman who introduced herself as Cookie invited me to sit at the rustic table where the staff must have their meals. "I have some leftover stew I fed the ladies earlier," Cookie said.

She was in her fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair covered with a cap. Lively brown eyes seemed to take me in anew as she set down a bowl of steaming stew with potatoes, carrots, and slices of roast beef, along with several chunks of thick bread. My mouth watered as I waited for it to cool enough to eat, then ate heartily, downing every last morsel. If it hadn't been bad manners, I would have scraped the bowl with the chunk of bread.

"That's better," Cookie said. "Color's back in your cheeks. You looked half starved."

"I was," I said, smiling over at her.

Evelyn, her kitchen helper, appeared to be in her thirties, sporting a mop of red hair and a face and arms dotted with a thousand freckles. She spoke little English. Cookie explained that she'd immigrated from France not long ago. Regardless, she greeted me with a shy smile before turning back to peeling a large mound of potatoes.

After the delicious meal, I yearned for a warm bed in which to lay my weary body. Instead, I was escorted upstairs to the dressmaker.

The seamstress worked in a small room filled with more fabric than I had ever seen in one place. Rolls of fabric were stacked from the floor to the ceiling, arranged by color.

"I'm Mrs. Morris." A small woman with stooped shoulders and a face lined with wrinkles appraised me. "Miss Scarlet says you need a gown for this evening?"

"Yes, ma'am," I said. How could she possibly sew something for tonight? It was already after two.

She went to a wardrobe and opened both doors to peer inside. I did the same, shocked to see at least twenty dresses hanging there.

"Let me look at you." Mrs. Morris's gaze swept from toe to head. "You're a pretty thing. Too thin, but we can work around that. I like to put brunettes in purple or blue for evening. Which do you prefer?"

"Mother always said I looked good in blue." Thinking of her made the back of my throat ache. What was she doing right now? Had she met the baby? Did anyone ever think of me? Or had they all moved on, happy to be rid of me and my pesky ways?

"Blue it is, love." She pulled out a periwinkle-hued gown with hundreds of beads sewn into the bodice. The neckline plunged startlingly low. I didn't relish showing my breasts to a room full of men looking for intimacy, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Mrs. Morris pushed me toward a corner with a folding screen. "Try it on in there and come out to show me. I'll have to make a few adjustments, but the fit shouldn't be too far off."

I did as she asked, slipping the surprisingly heavy gown over my head. The material felt like a blanket, but I welcomed the warmth. Winter days were bitter in New York. I felt as though I'd been cold since I got here. If my feet ever warmed all the way up, I'd be surprised.

I stepped out from behind the partition. Mrs. Morris handed me a pair of dancing shoes that fit my feet perfectly, and then I stepped onto a platform in front of a full-length mirror. The gown was lovely. Mother would have approved. The plunging neckline wasn't as immodest as I thought when looking at it on the hanger. It was fairly flattering, even with my small chest. I had gotten too thin, though. My shoulder blades and collarbones stuck out, and my face had narrowed to the point of gauntness. I missed the robust, healthy girl I'd been when I'd first met Constantine. A wave of pain came at the thought of what I'd looked like in the mirror of my bedroom the morning of Mauve's wedding. Where had that girl gone?

Mrs. Morris hummed under her breath as she pinned the hem. "This won't take me but a minute to adjust this for you. Which room are you staying in?"

"I…I don't know. Miss Scarlet didn't say anything about a room."

In the mirror, I saw Miss Scarlet appear in the doorway, as if I'd conjured her out of thin air.

"I've had the pink room made up for you," Miss Scarlet said. "You'll share a suite with some of the other girls but have a private room. For entertaining."

Entertaining. I guess I knew what that meant. "Thank you." I wasn't sure that was the right thing to say. Everything was happening too fast. Now I had a new gown and a room? What was I doing?

A party this evening made my palms sweat. What was expected of me? Should I have mentioned my lack of experience when I spoke to Miss Scarlet earlier? One time with Constantine didn't exactly make a woman of the evening.

Miss Scarlett drew nearer, her intelligent eyes sweeping over me. "Yes, this will do nicely. Well done, Mrs. Morris."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mrs. Morris said. "I'll just let out the hem so it's long enough for her."

"Wonderful." Miss Scarlet met my gaze in the mirror. "When you've finished here, a maid will show you to your room. You'll want a nap, I expect, and then a nice bath. One of the other girls will help you with your hair. I prefer minimal makeup. We don't want to look like what the society ladies refer to us as."

I simply nodded, unsure what they were called by society ladies or otherwise. I'd jumped into the metaphorical river, and its heavy current would carry me away, whether I wanted to go or not.

"What's expected of me tonight?" I asked meekly. "I'm not experienced in the ways of men, and I don't want to present myself as something I'm not. I have little left, Miss Scarlet, but my integrity." The moment I said it, I knew that in itself was a lie. I'd not told the Bancrofts the full truth. Had I done so from the beginning, where would I be? Murdered on the streets? Dead from complications of the infection? Those were distinct possibilities, so I supposed my lying was a matter of survival. Still, I didn't like myself for it. In fact, self-hatred had now crept into every part of me. I longed for the days when I fancied myself a good person with a delightful life ahead of me.

Lately, an anger toward Constantine had crept into my consciousness. It had been his idea to lie together. He'd convinced me that we were to wed shortly anyway, why not enjoy each other as we saw fit? If only I'd resisted. Would he be alive if I had? Did fate work that way? One small deviation and the entire trajectory of one's life altered?

"As I said before, you're my guest here. I expect nothing of you tonight other than to be gracious and charming to my other guests. If you decide thereafter you'd like to stay permanently, then we will work out the details at that time. It's Christmastime, after all. What kind of woman would I be if I sent you out into the cold?"

"Thank you for your generosity," I said. "I'll do my best to be charming."

"Young ladies such as yourself were bred and subsequently taught how to beguile men for the sole purposes of marrying well. These skills will suit you in whatever choice you make about your future, and none more so than this evening. I've asked Luella to bring you to my office when you're ready for the party. I shall take a good look at you before sending you out to the parlor. For now, I suggest a long nap. My festivities extend deep into the night."

I thanked her and watched her leave the room, her posture erect and her head held high. She'd found a way to live in a man's world without a man. Was this the only way to do so? Give men the most sacred part of you?

The maid delivered me to the suite as promised. I was happy to see Luella there waiting for me. She gave me a warm hug and welcomed me. "I'll show her around," Luella said, dismissing the maid with a friendly nod.

As Miss Scarlet had said, the room she'd put me in was part of a six-bedroom suite. We shared a comfortable sitting room, with sofas, tables, and a fireplace. A chessboard had been laid out for a new game. Several packs of playing cards waited on the coffee table. Books lined shelves. It could be the sitting room of any apartment in the city. How odd. I would never have guessed a house of ill repute to look like a place where my mother would take tea.

"What do we do in this big room?" I asked.

"There are types of men who enjoy a quiet night instead of the liveliness of a party. If they'd like to enjoy private time with us, we take them into the bedrooms, but sometimes they enjoy playing games or talking—either before or after the deed." Luella giggled as she took a small key from around her neck and used it to open a cabinet filled with liquor. "Miss Scarlet likes for us to be generous with the booze—for the customers. She doesn't like us to drink too much, but once the party starts going, who knows what will happen."

"Does Miss Scarlet worry about the law?" Since Prohibition, I'd read in the papers about the speakeasy raids and arrests of those partaking in illegal drinking.

"We've been raided only once since I arrived here," Luella said. "They took a few of the girls in to the station, but the men were sent away without so much as a slap on the wrist."

"What happened to the girls?" I shivered at the thought of jail.

"Miss Scarlet had them bailed out by morning." Luella lowered her voice. "These are powerful men who frequent her parties. They help to keep her and her establishment from any serious consequences."

"Like whom?"

"The mayor, for example. Dirty cops. Racketeers. Wall Street types. We even have a few famous actors and painters."

God help me, I hope Father doesn't show up here , I thought, feeling sick. Was he part of the underground system that delivered illegal booze? Since learning the truth about his business, I'd not allowed myself to contemplate it much. I'd told myself I would think about it later, once I was in a more stable environment. For now, I didn't possess the energy.

"It's all very exciting," Luella said. "Think of it. Little old me entertaining men of such esteem."

It sounded frightening, not exciting, but I had to comply with whatever was expected of me if I wanted another meal and a warm bed.

"Where are the other girls?" I asked.

"They're probably all sleeping," Luella said. "Late night. We all woke with headaches, mostly because we didn't take Miss Scarlet's advice to heart and had too much champagne. Paid for our sins this morning. Petunia always leaves us breakfast pastries and pitchers of water for when we wake. Usually, we get up and have a bite to soak up the booze from the night before and practically drown ourselves with water. Then we all crawl back to bed like cockroaches."

"Which room is mine?"

"You're in Martha's old room. The pink one."

"What happened to Martha?" I asked.

Luella sighed dreamily. "Martha had a regular and he just put her up in a suite in one of the finest buildings in the city. She has it made. We're all terribly jealous but happy for her at the same time."

"What happens if that man decides he no longer wants her?"

"She'll come back here. Miss Scarlet never turns away any of the girls who worked for her, whether it's a year or five. We always have a safe place to land. That's what she told me the first time I spoke with her, and I have to say, I didn't fully believe her. By now, though, I've seen it with my own eyes."

Luella led me over to the room with the open door. "This is all yours."

I looked around, surprised. The room had been decorated in pink and black, all very feminine and sophisticated. "This isn't what I thought it would look like. None of it has been so far."

"I had the same reaction. Some of the other girls used to work for brothels that were filthy and disgusting—both the men and the establishment. But Miss Scarlet only allows the right kind of man to spend time with us."

I sat on the side of the bed, nerves fluttering like a gaggle of geese headed south at the end of the summer. "What was it like? The first time?"

She flopped onto the chair, resting her legs on the ottoman. "Everyone has their own way to get comfortable with the idea."

"As in?"

"Booze. Opiates. I have a few drinks before the party starts to loosen up my tongue and the rest of me, if you know what I mean."

A stunning girl with dark skin and shapely legs showed up in the doorway, dressed in only her slip and bloomers. "I didn't know we were getting a new girl."

"This is Stella," Luella said. "She and I know each other from the boardinghouse. I ran into her in the park and convinced her to follow me home. Stella, this is Maxine. She's been here the longest of all of us here in this suite."

"Pleasure to meet you, Maxine," I said shaking her small hand. "You could be in the movies you're so pretty."

"You're not so bad yourself. Where you come from?" Maxine's accent and rapid speech sounded similar to one of my father's gardeners, which told me she was most likely from Brooklyn.

I glanced over at Luella for help. I'd not had a chance to work on my story.

"You can just tell her the truth," Luella said. "We're all here because we have to be. Which is sad but also nice. No one here will judge you for your past or present."

What about our futures? Maybe no one thought much about that in here. One day at a time, maybe?

"You wait until you feel comfortable and then tell us if you wish to," Maxine said. "My dear old pops, who was as mean as the day is long, died when I was thirteen, leaving my sick mom and me, plus two younger sisters. We had nothing and no one. I did the best I could to get work and steal food to keep us all fed. Mama got sicker and died about eight months after Pops. I had to keep my sisters from harm, so I started letting men take me on dates. For my trouble, I always got a meal out of it, most of which I'd take home to my sisters. Pretty soon, I met a girl who told me about a brothel over on Greene Street. I worked there until I learned about Miss Scarlet. She took me in and everything changed. For the better. The men here are not so rough."

"Where are your sisters?" I couldn't help but ask.

A shadow crossed Maxine's face. "I lost them during the Spanish flu. One minute they were fine and the next gone. Those days won't soon leave me. All those bodies piled up." She shuddered.

I'd been lucky enough to be sequestered out at our country house for the entirety of the pandemic. At the time, I'd been sad to miss all the social events. Now I realized how spoiled and naive I'd been. I'd spent idyllic days in the countryside while here in the city the hospitals and funeral homes couldn't keep up with the sick and dead.

"I'm sorry about your sisters," I said.

"Thank you. But maybe they're the lucky ones? Getting out of this nasty world and entering the pearly gates. They're better off. I tell myself that, anyway."

I nodded. Of late, the idea of fading into blissful nothingness had sounded like a sweet ending to my suffering. Who knew, though? If faced with death, might I try as hard as I could to live?

"I'm off to nap. The girls all gather together for a drink before we go downstairs," Maxine said. "You can meet the others then."

I thanked her, and she slipped away, leaving behind the scent of French perfume. Luella said she would see me later, advising me to get some sleep. "Petunia looks after us. She'll draw you a bath and help you dress." She yawned. "Off I go. See you soon."

Too tired to think further about my predicament, I took off my dress and climbed into the double bed in my underclothes, pulled the covers up and over my head, and fell asleep.

I woke from my nap several hours later and wandered over to the window. Darkness had fallen while I slept. Pressing my nose against the cold glass, I peered out to see snow falling. A few inches had accumulated on the ground.

Soon, a knock on my door revealed slight young woman with a round elfin face and wide-set eyes. She introduced herself as Petunia. "I'm here to help you prepare for the evening. Your bath's ready for you if you would like to follow me." I followed her out of my room and into the bathroom where a tub of warm, soapy water awaited.

"You get on in and I'll be back to help you in a few minutes." Petunia bobbed her head and then exited the bathroom.

I scrubbed my skin with soap that smelled of roses but left my hair alone. If Petunia was to fix it for the evening then it should be dry. Enjoying the warmth of the water, I leaned my neck against the back of the tub and examined the ceiling. I could still leave, I thought. Go back into the cold and traipse across town on foot. In the snow. Wearing my thin coat.

Or I could stay. Sell myself for the sake of survival. How bad could it be? The other girls seemed content enough. In fact, I'd never seen Luella looking so well.

I sat forward, hugging my knees to my chest in the soapy water. Miss Scarlet had said I could stay for the party tonight and decide afterward if this was the life for me. At least I would be well fed on Christmas.

Back in my room, I returned to the window. Expensive cars were pulling up in front of the apartment and dropping well-dressed men at the steps.

"They just come in like that from the street?" I asked Petunia as I crossed the room to sit at the dressing table.

"What do you mean?" Petunia stood behind me, lifting my thick hair in her hands, obviously contemplating what to do with it.

"I mean, aren't they worried someone will see them?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe they don't care." She rubbed rouge into my cheeks, her forehead knit in concentration. "Anyway, how else would they come inside?"

"I don't know. The alleyway?"

She gave me a confused look but didn't comment. Clearly, she took her job seriously, barely speaking as she fixed my hair and face. Soon, I was powdered and my lips stained a deep red. My hair was pinned back to appear short, with several finger waves pressed into my dark tresses.

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.