The Whitechapel Virgin Read online

  But still, if there was any small voice within her which urged her to recoil from his ardent passions, if only to avoid quarrels and jealousy from the others, it sank as quickly as a ship adrift at sea.

  Cross leaned in even closer, one hand now trailing across the table to find her own. He lifted her fingers with one hand and gently stroked the flesh between them whilst producing a throaty whisper.

  ‘The truth of the matter is that I wish to have you to myself. If you agree to visit me, your rate will be doubled. Think upon the matter carefully, and report to Madame Davenport your true reply, but understand that I am no less than genuine with my intentions.’

  His words hung in the air as he paused to take another long puff of his cigar where hazy circles of smoke floated up to the rafters.

  Any reasonable doubt or disgust Catherine might have ever possessed before had taken flight, and so she merely nodded in a dream like stupor, inhaling his scent, manly and powerful. It stirred an unfamiliar longing within her. She had been meaning to ask him if the flower delivery the other day had originated from him, but she was afraid to sound foolishly wanton if it was not.

  She sat up straight and tried to think clearly. Think of her options. She could not afford to be timid. She could not allow Annie or Nellie to control her, for she was almost a woman now herself.

  She had never performed an act of intercourse, therefore she possessed no experience in those matters. But she could view their relationship as a type of ‘courtship,’ for she already possessed a wilful and positive attraction towards him, her own infatuation having grown at a remarkable speed. Surely that was different to how Annie or Nellie went about their business? Servicing men whom they might find repulsive to touch.

  And were she to agree, there would be the welcome physical relief of spending less time scrubbing and cleaning.

  She looked deeply into his eyes without disengaging her hand from his. She realised the hour must be late but she felt no pressing desire to pull away from him.

  His mouth reached her cheek and he placed a gentle kiss there. Directly above them pretty candle-lights flickered. He gently tipped her chin upwards so that their eyes could meet.

  ‘Give your answer to the Madame and I will await your presence tomorrow at the corner of Flower and Dean Street before moon rise. From there I will escort you to a much safer haven, but for now, farewell Miss Bell.’

  He stood promptly and hurried away, making no eye contact with any other person as he went.

  Tilly was standing behind the counter with her lower jaw gaping open after having watched the proceedings with great interest. Mr Cross tipped his hat to her as he passed and exited through the main door.

  ‘My oh my, what was all that about?’ she asked Catherine who looked flushed and dizzy on her return.

  ‘Mr Cross wishes to have my company tomorrow.’

  Tilly raised her eyebrows inquisitively. ‘Ooh, what’s his offering?’

  ‘Double my rate.’

  ‘Double?’ she put a hand to her mouth. ‘Well I can hardly believe it. You’ve only been here a month and already you’ve invited the attentions of an handsome young gent such as him.’

  Catherine smiled timidly but felt peculiar inside. It was all so very odd, the way a gentleman’s admiration and subsequent request for carnal knowledge of her was viewed by the others as some type of grand achievement.

  ‘What will the others think when they find out?’ she asked Tilly honestly.

  The older woman frowned as she opened the till to count up the coins.‘Of course Madame will be pleased if you accept, but as for the rest of em...’

  ‘You mean, Eddie? Oh gosh, Eddie will be hurt no doubt. Tilly, what will I do?’

  Tilly pushed the metal drawer shut and took Catherine gently by the shoulders.

  ‘Now listen here my girl. Eddie won’t like it one bit, nor will the others, but you have to earn your own keep and so they’ll just have to live with it. You won’t be the first young girl Annie’s been twisted into jealousy over, trust me.’

  Catherine’s shoulders slumped. ‘I do feel affection for Eddie, just not in the way he would wish me to. Did this Mary Jane really hurt him so badly?’

  Tilly sighed and shook her head.

  ‘He’s so vulnerable is our Eddie. She broke his heart, and we all saw it coming to him, she started off all sweet and innocent, then she just went off with...’

  She stopped, seeing Catherine’s pitiful expression.

  ‘Oh no lass, she weren’t like you at all. Eddie has a pain in his heart that is hard to mend. It ain’t your fault he’s a sensitive soul.’

  ‘But I should have told him what Madame expected of me. I feel awfully guilty now that I have met Edward Cross and I am so very keen to see him again.’

  ‘Hush Catherine. Don’t torture yourself on the matter. We don’t get many opportunities down at our level of living. Trading our bodies ain’t the best job in the world, but we should be thankful we ain’t decaying in the streets or drowned at the bottom of the Thames instead.

  The facts are like this. You’ve ended up here and Edward Cross has taken a liking to you. That alone is something to celebrate my girl. Many orphaned girls would offer a limb to be standing in your shoes right now. How about we start with them ones that are already out there starvin’ in the street gutters. So you’ll ‘ave to quit yer snivelling and toughen up now.’

  Catherine sniffed and nodded.

  ‘Good girl. And don’t worry about Eddie. He’s always been able to take care of himself. Mark my words.’

  TEN

  ‘I am very pleased that you have agreed to Mr Cross’s proposal. He visited me yesterday morning and informed me of his intentions. Well, I am hardly surprised my dear. I knew it would not take long for such a pretty young thing like you to attract a gentleman’s greedy gaze.’

  Catherine blushed as she recalled the previous evening. How his skin had smelt of good quality soap and the way his warm breath had tickled her ear as he spoke. It hardly mattered that she barely remembered what had been discussed between them, only that she had spent the time floating on a cloud, held captive by his whispery voice.

  ‘I trust that you enjoyed his company, your eyes are ablaze at the mere mention of him, and as I predicted, you and he appear well matched.’

  ‘He was quite a gentleman, Madame.’

  ‘I agree. He is of good standing and his proposal has come at a very good time.’

  She lifted the lid of a carved wooden box and fumbled through a pile of correspondence. ‘A relative of his had been a patron of this tavern for a number of years, though Mr Cross has not frequented our establishment with many visits of late so it is fortuitous that he has been led to our doorstep in the wake of your arrival.’

  ‘What is his profession?’ Catherine found herself asking imprudently.

  Madame’s eyebrows furrowed in disapproval.‘That is not your business to question. We do not pry into our clients affairs nor do we discuss them with any other person.’

  ‘I apologise Madame,’ Catherine quickly countered.

  Davenport’s stiff expression relaxed.

  ‘There are some other matters which will be affected positively by your arrangement. I must impart the unfortunate news that funds have been dwindling for some time and whilst we gain just enough to replenish stocks and supply the necessary wages, many girls have since moved on from here and I worry for the times ahead of us. Mr Cross’s additional remuneration will help towards our mountainous debts, so I am counting on you to make sure that he is content, and will have no cause to retract his decision.’

  Catherine’s stomach tightened. She was beginning to feel much like a rare morsel of meat that had just been sold on for collection.
Her aunt’s voice crudely echoed in her head.

  “Men only want one thing at the end of the day and they’ll get it one way or another.”

  ‘He has made his wishes clear that you are to visit him at his disposal. And as I mentioned not long ago, you have had plenty of time to settle in at the lodging house. You have had time to become familiar with how our comfortable little place is run.

  Therefore you will go to him tomorrow evening, chaperoned on your first journey by Lydia who will deposit you into his care. Then you will return promptly when he is done with you. I would not necessarily wish for any of my girls to run into some trouble or other.’

  ‘Yes Madame.’

  ‘Oh and I trust you are aware of the necessary precautionary procedures that should be taken?’ she glanced below Catherine’s waist and the girl shrugged.

  Madame Davenport rolled her eyes which were heavily pencilled in a dark shade of green. ‘I do not have the time to prep you now, I shall send Lydia up to your room.’

  Standing to her feet she waved an arm in the air to conclude their meeting.

  ‘There will be wages made to you each fortnight where you will report directly to me. I trust you also realise that you will still be expected to assist with the day to day household duties? All the girls generally lend their efforts here.’

  ‘I shall Madame.’

  ‘Good.’ She smiled exposing a very good set of teeth, leading Catherine to wonder if she had more funds in the lodging house coffers than she had led her to believe.

  They walked to the door where Madame paused for a moment, unexpectedly laying a hand on Catherine’s shoulder. It felt heavy there, despite its fleshless composition.

  ‘I am pleased with you Catherine. You are learning the rules of life. Let me tell you that I shall always try to assist you to the best of my ability, should you require assistance. Sadly, many here believe that I am an unfeeling person, perhaps overly strict. But let me tell you that I am also possessed of more than mere rules and standards. I am here to assist my girls should they ever require it from me. However, I will warn you that there is one thing I will not tolerate in any shape or form, and it is where our contract would terminate.’

  ‘What is that, Madame?’

  ‘Do not ever come to me and say that you are with child.’

  * * *

  The only wash tub in the entire lodging house was shared between all the occupants and situated within a dark, damp room on the first floor. The uneven floorboards were mottled with rot and great clumps of plaster peeled away from the ceiling. Catherine noted how it appeared in an even worse state of disrepair than her own room and looked as if it might soon cave in with damp and decay.

  The water in the tub itself had a permanent skim of muck on the surface from such infrequent emptying and the odour was more than mildly unpleasant. Catherine had only ever shared a copper tub with her aunt in the past. Situated in the kitchen, it was filled once a fortnight but thankfully, with a pail of water freshly pumped from a nearby street which Catherine herself was made to carry home.

  As she was dousing herself a gentle rap came at the door.

  ‘Hello? Are you in there Miss Catherine? I am Lydia. I’ve been sent by Madame,’ the soft voice spoke through the door.

  Catherine hesitated before replying.

  ‘I shall be free in a moment, please wait for me outside my quarters.’

  She heard footsteps receding along the hallway and when she returned to her room she found Lydia idly hovering outside her door.

  The subsequent conversation she knew they would both enter into was not exactly inspiring. She almost wished she could lock the girl out, but instead let her follow inside.

  ‘I ain’t gonna be shy about it, cause it don’t help to be shy when it’s about serious matters,’ Lydia stated matter-of-factly.

  Her hair was a greasy and unruly mop piled high with hair grips in an apparently fruitless effort to keep it tidy. She looked no more than twenty years of age, possessed a rather owly appearance and a scrawny neck. Her pinched nose was dotted with freckles but luckily enough for the girl, she was in possession of long eyelashes. The garment she wore was faded to the colour of rust and torn in various places.

  ‘So I’ll run you through it quickly miss, as I know it ain’t all that pleasant to discuss.’

  Sitting upright on a chair beside the window Catherine watched silently, intrigued as to what the girl was ready to unveil. She prayed it would not be too vulgar and dug her nails into her palms with anticipation.

  Lydia lifted her pantalettes, bent her knees and crouched on the floor where for a brief few seconds she rocked unsteadily on the ground. Catherine stifled a giggle as she watched the girl regain her balance then lift her petticoats a few inches higher to reveal very large white bloomers.

  Catherine looked on, horrified, as the girl began to make a sweeping motion with her hand up towards her private area.

  ‘This is something we have to do before we have any kind of contact with gentlemen. We call it the ‘The Bend.’ We fill a chamber pot wiv’ a white zinc-like mixture which Madame stores in a cupboard, and we get it all soaked up into our lady area. We do it to make sure that it kills the liquid that men leave behind, because that is full of baby-making chemicals.’

  She continued with the sweeping motion until her legs wobbled, then fell back onto her bottom with a plop.

  Catherine nodded as the girl rose to her feet.

  ‘Then there’s another two ways to go about it, and which one will be your preference is up to you, but me? Well the bend works for me so I stick to that one and won’t chance it with another.

  The second one’s the ‘golden coin.’ Some of ‘em will swear by it, and of course, it don’t stink as much as the mixture does. I tried it once, but the coin must have gone up the wrong way cause I had a lot of trouble trying to get it out later. And the last one would be your safest bet and the least irritatin’, but you need to get him to go up your back end.’

  She twisted her body around and leaned over, displaying a frilly bottom.

  Catherine gasped.

  ‘That way almost definitely doesn’t get you in the family way, and if you catch ‘em right they don’t even notice that they’ve put it up the wrong way. That’s the one I swear by too.’

  Her vulgar performance then came to an end. She stood erect, smoothed down her petticoat and skirts then wiped her glistening brow with a tatty handkerchief. Strands of hair had fallen loose over her face, and her cheeks glowed as if the whole presentation had been a terribly taxing ordeal.

  ‘If you need a pot of mixture, Madame keeps a stack of the bottles in the back cupboard beside the pantry in the kitchen. It won’t cost yer nuffing.’

  Lydia waited for Catherine to respond, and when she only nodded with her mouth gaping open in disbelief, the girl turned and headed for the door glancing back only briefly.

  ‘And if he ever smells real bad down there, try to do summit else, or you’ll be pissing pins and needles later. Well, good luck miss,’ she smiled, shuffling outside and closing the door behind her.

  ELEVEN

  The buzz of activity in the street had begun to wind down. Now only one or two traders were left to peddle their wares along the street, shouting up at brick framed windows, each attempting to be heard above the other.

  Nellie Hunt was lying on her stained mattress on the second floor of the lodging house thinking about her life.

  Or the lack of it.

  Earlier that afternoon she had been unable to meet with her regular client, Mr Craven, due to a bout of strong stomach pains which had struck her sharply as she was pegging out her laundry in the courtyard. Letting out a loud moan she had leaned over and caught sight of trickles of dark blo
od running down between her thighs and puddling between the cobblestones. Ashamed and doubled over in agony, she had somehow crawled up the stairs unseen and locked herself safely inside her room.

  A gentle breeze blew in as she stared at the slanting shadows on the opposite wall. The last few rays of a pale sun penetrated through gathering grey clouds which had begun to spread across the sky. Her ears were filled with the distant sounds of women chattering and laughing below, the soft tinkle of a horse’s bell as its hooves clacked against the paving stones and then the sound of heavy sacks being lifted from atop carriages down below.

  She had been afraid to lift up the sheet because when she did it smelled of strong urine. In one hand she held on tightly to a crumpled handkerchief in an effort to dab at the stray tears which slid down her cheeks.

  She had been looking forward to meeting Mr Craven that evening, for he was one of the nicest clients she had ever taken on. He talked to her as if she had a bit of a brain in her head which was something quite unusual for a man.

  ‘And how is my old girl, today?’ he would ask her, fiddling with his thin little moustache. ‘And when is my little Nellie going to learn to read books, eh?’

  She also liked the way he looked a lot more educated than the other men. He smelt a bit better too. And even when he lay on top of her in his bed, he was never disgusting or handled her roughly.

  His wife had passed away earlier that year and Nellie got the impression that what he really wanted was companionship much more than the soft flesh of a woman beneath his sheets.

  The fact that she hadn’t gone to him that afternoon might very well end up as a strike against her if Madame found out. Madame could blow hot and cold, and Nellie understood her character by now. She could be less severe and understanding on the rare occasion, but mostly she’d sniff around you all the time to make sure you were doing your job.