Teena: A House of Ill Repute (2 page)

I sighed and opened one eye to peer across at my sleeping lover. He made a pretty girl, it was true, but he also made a lovely lad, and whilst he wasn't quite in the Erik league when it came to endowment, he hadn't been behind the door when that part of his anatomy was being given out. I sighed again and settled back to let sleep try to claim me, for I was totally exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

The questions could wait for now; they would come again in the morning, and with them, in time, would hopefully come at least some of the answers.

In time...

1.

Time was beginning to drag now for Maudie Taylor. As she sat at the bedroom window, looking out over the expanse of lawn running behind the back of the big house, she wondered just how much longer she would be expected to continue with this charade, and just how soon she would be able to collect the promised money and get back into the outside world again. An outside world that now, thanks to the hundred guineas she would pocket when she left, looked to hold far more prospects than it had only a few short weeks ago when Miss Crowthorne approached her in the market square in Salisbury.

Maudie turned away from the window at last, and as she did so, she caught sight of her reflection in the long dressing mirror standing in the nearest corner. She paused, and then took a step closer, unable still to resist the little thrill that passed through her every time she saw the picture she now presented to the world. No, not the world, she told herself as she stared into the glass, just this tiny fragment of it; a world that had constricted first from the house and garden down to the house, and then, these past two days, to just this one room with its adjacent dressing area.

And what a dressing room it was! Maudie, accustomed to a life where to own even two dresses - and those patched and darned - was a luxury, could hardly believe the wardrobe now at her disposal. Of course, she had known the upper classes owned clothes in abundance, but this was riches beyond anything she had ever expected, a dress almost for every day of the year, or so it seemed, for Maudie was not too good at counting above any number exceeding the number of fingers, thumbs and toes she possessed.

But it had to be close to that many dresses; there were three hundred and sixty-five days in the year and three hundred and sixty-six days every four years, that much she did know from the old rhyme, and that was lots and lots, and there were certainly lots and lots of dresses, so there had to be close to that many hanging in the wall closets, folded in the heavy trunk, or even hanging from the wheeled rail that stood across the narrow window of the dressing room.

And it didn't stop just with the dresses, for there were all the under-things - corsets, chemises, drawers and stockings, as well as drawers filled with gloves, chokers with little jewelled motifs, shoes and bootees enough to take care of a whole army of women.

Maudie stood before the mirror now, grinning at the way her bosom thrust out from the low neckline of the heavy velvet gown she was wearing; forced up and out by the strictures of the corset one of the two maidservants laced her into daily. A fresh corset every day, wicked boned garments forcing the very breath from her lungs as they presented her soft treasures for all to admire. Why, but even her nipples were all but visible - at least the darker brown circles that bounded them. She pouted her painted lips at the girl in the mirror that was really her, and winked at herself.

My, but it was incredible what the right clothes could do for a girl, she thought to herself. Dressed like this, she looked every inch the fine lady, certainly as much a fine lady as the one who was supposed to be ill and whose place Maudie had taken for that silly wedding ceremony. She still didn't quite understand why they had needed her to do that, but then, she reasoned in her uncomplicated way, she didn't have to understand. All she needed to think about was the hundred guineas, and maybe, just maybe, they might let her keep one or two of these fine dresses, and perhaps an odd corset and a pair of shoes. After all, she told herself as she looked across towards the dressing room door, they had so many of them here, and the real lady of the house would probably buy herself so many more long before she ever got around to wearing even half the things she already owned.

Maudie hoped the lady would be better soon, for the thought of her hundred guineas was beginning to wear on her. She had so many plans for all that money, so many ideas, so many hopes. No more working in the marketplace for Maudie Taylor, that much was certain. Oh no, there were so many other options for a pretty girl with money and the right clothes.

She turned again, relishing the swishing sound her petticoats and skirt made, and let out a little sigh of contentment. Time was dragging now, it was true, but she could afford to be patient. After all, she was only twenty years of age and she had plenty of time - all the time in the world, in fact...

'Time you two lazy buggers were stirring yourselves, or have you shagged yourselves silly all night?'

I opened one eye with some difficulty at the sound of Anne-Marie's voice, hoping my face didn't look as red as it was feeling, though why I should have felt any guilt at being found in bed with Andy I had no idea. It wasn't the first time we'd had sex, though perhaps it was the fact that this had been my first time with Andy, rather than with his alter ego Andrea, which made things seem so different.

'Good morning, sleepyhead,' Anne-Marie said, and I saw that she was smiling as she stood looking down at us from the doorway. 'I've got coffee on the go downstairs, if you're interested.'

'What time is it?' I mumbled, struggling to sit up from beneath the weight of Andy's arm, which lay across my chest.

'Half-eight,' she replied. 'I've been up and about since six, but then
I
had the benefit of a good night's sleep,' she added, grinning mischievously. She nodded down at my still unconscious bed partner. 'Looks equally good i
n or out of drag, doesn't he?'

'Yes,' I admitted uncertainly. I managed to sit upright finally. 'You don't mind, do you?'

Anne-Marie shrugged. 'Mind?' she echoed. 'Why should I mind? We don't do it together, you know. Even though we're not actually blood relations, well, it wouldn't feel right, if you know what I mean.'

I had to suppress a laugh at this. Anne-Marie's ideas concerning morality, or the lack of it, were curious to say the least. 'He told me he loved me,' I offered lamely.

Anne-Marie's smiled widened. 'I thought he might,' she said.

I had both eyes open now and both eyebrows lifted. 'I - I didn't think he'd said anything to you,' I stammered. 'He told me—'

'She hasn't said a word to me,' Anne-Marie assured me, raising a placating hand, 'but then he didn't have to. Our Andrea is as transparent as cellophane. I've known for days now, probably longer than she has herself.'

I didn't fail to notice how she referred to Andy in the feminine at first, despite his currently obvious male condition.

'Actually,' she continued, half turning to go, 'I think it's really sweet. Now I've got my two little slaves in love, which should make for some very interesting times.'

Interesting times
, I reflected as the door closed behind her. The Chinese have a curse,
May you live in interesting times
, it says. Well, I thought as I shook my now slowly awakening lover, we certainly were living in interesting times at the moment.
Two
very interesting times, indeed.

I wondered what Anne-Marie would say when we told her that now Andy and I were not only lovers in the present, but also fellow travellers in time.

'Gone, you say?' Gregory Hacklebury slapped the palms of his hands down onto his desk with a crash that echoed around the library. 'Gone where?'

'I have no idea,' Megan Crowthorne replied, spreading her own hands, 'though I am already taking steps to find out. I have sent for Marjoribanks and he will arrive before noon. His people will find them quickly enough. The coach will be difficult to hide, to begin with.'

'And Erik has gone too, you say?' Hacklebury's features were contorted with barely suppressed anger. 'That's all the thanks you get from dragging the great oaf from the gutter.'

'I do seem to have misjudged him,' Megan admitted. 'I thought he was truly loyal to me, but then we do not yet know the circumstances. The girl may well have forced him. There is a pistol missing that belonged to Garfield.'

'Garfield, yes,' Hacklebury said, frowning in concentration. 'I can't believe the bitch managed to get the jump on the fellow. Garfield has been a poacher and a gamekeeper for twenty or more years and yet he allows a slip of a girl to plunge a knife through his neck.'

'Presumably she managed to, er, distract him,' Megan suggested.

'Very resourceful for a peasant wench,' Hacklebury snapped. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. 'And Angelina?' he asked after a moment.

Megan swallowed, trying to avoid his direct gaze. 'The bitch dog is safe in her kennel,' she replied quietly. 'I have left Burrows to watch over her in Erik's stead. She'll not be going anywhere, not until we want her to.'

'Good,' Hacklebury said. 'At least that's something. Without Maud, we may yet have need of little Angelina.'

'I think,' Megan began slowly, 'that it will be best if we avoid any situation where we might have need of Angelina. Short of drugging her into a stupor, she'll be of absolutely no use to us, for she'll hardly comply with your wishes now, will she?'

'No.' Hacklebury sighed. 'No, she'll certainly not.'

'Which makes her a distinct liability,' Megan continued, 'if not an outright danger to both of us.'

'Well, she'll not be doing much in the way of talking,' Hacklebury snickered, 'not in that little dog get-up you've put her in. Best you keep her that way for the foreseeable future, I reckon.'

'I'm not entirely sure that's a wise idea,' Megan disagreed. Her fingers twisted together in front of her as Hacklebury looked up in surprise.

'Well, we certainly cannot release her,' he protested.

Megan shook her head. 'No,' she agreed, 'that we cannot do, and I was not about to suggest we should.' She paused, looking down at the space between her feet and the desk. 'What I was going to suggest,' she went on, speaking very quietly, 'is that Angelina's usefulness is far outweighed by the danger she represents to us, especially if young Maud opens her mouth to the wrong people.'

'I cannot see Maud doing that,' Hacklebury asserted. 'The girl has committed murder, don't forget, and she'll know she'll be sure to swing for it if she's caught.'

'True,' Megan agreed, 'but as you say, she's little more than a peasant and we cannot be sure she will continue to use what brains she has. Besides, we still have to explain Garfield's death, and if the law then catches up with her, who knows what she might say about the goings on here? No, I think I have a better solution. A much better solution, in my opinion.'

'Which is?'

'Which is that we lay the blame for the killing on Angelina and Erik, or better still, solely on Angelina. That way the law will be looking for her, a woman they cannot possibly hope to find.'

'Unless they come here poking around. This place is big, but not that big.'

'They cannot find what isn't here,' Megan said firmly.

'You mean move her?'

'Not exactly. Once we've established that she has killed and fled with what is now rightfully your property, all your problems are over, just so long as she is never actually found and questioned. I suggest we take steps to ensure she is never found.' She pursed her lips, and then set them in a taut line.

Hacklebury stared up at her for a few moments and then nodded slowly. 'Yes,' he said deliberately, his eyes narrowing. 'Yes, I believe you are right. However...'

'You need not trouble yourself over the details,' Megan put in hurriedly. 'I shall attend to those myself. It will be little different to disposing of any animal that has outlived its usefulness, I promise you.'

'Apparently not,' Hacklebury said. He stood up and deliberately stretched his long body. 'Then to you shall fall the duty, Meg, for there is none better suited, I reckon. However, talking of suited, perhaps I should take one last farewell of my little bitch hound?'

The corner of Megan's mouth twitched and she averted her gaze from his once again. She nodded. 'Yes,' she said, turning away towards the door. 'Yes, perhaps that would be appropriate.' She paused with one hand on the door handle. 'Allow me an hour or so, and I'll return for you once the bitch is in a suitable condition not to give you too much trouble. Then I think it will indeed be time for the master to bid his doggie a fond and final farewell.'

'Teenie! Teenie! What's the matter!'

I opened my eyes, blinked, and stared around me in some confusion, the now familiar surroundings of Anne-Marie's kitchen taking me somewhat by surprise. I gripped the edge of the table and blinked again, staring back at Andy in temporary bewilderment.

He reached out and placed a hand over mine. 'Did you go back again?' he asked, his voice unsteady. 'Only you went really blank there for a few seconds, just like before.'