Sea Change (18 page)

"Who's this sprat then?"

"I was wondering the same thing," said a soft alto voice from the doorway.

The doctor also removed his hat, and the two of them made a bow to their hostess. Madame Olifiers was well past her youth, but had a lively eye and a firm step, Charley noted. In the light coming from the house the proprietress's hair gleamed a soft chestnut threaded with silver, bound up atop her head in an elegant style. Her clothing was attractive, but not outrageous, complimenting her small, slim form. Madame's elegant gown of sea-green crepe was embellished by vandyking 'round the gold petticoat and at the short sleeve, and would have looked perfectly appropriate in a fine London or Baltimore residence.

Charley had to confess herself a tad disappointed. The house and its owner were anything but flamboyant, and if she was going to stand on the precipice of hell, she'd hoped for a more colorful display.

"Cornelia, I have brought you a special visitor. Dr. Charles Alcott is our ship's surgeon, and a young man in need of having his horizons broadened. And getting horizontal will broaden them considerably, I believe."

"Did you stay up all night thinking of that line?" Charley muttered to him.

He ignored her and focused instead on his hostess, who was watching Charley. Her face held only mild amusement, and she extended her hand.

"Dr. Alcott, it is a pleasure to have you in our house."

Charley bowed over her hostess's hand. Madame Olifiers's smile broadened and she said, "My, but you are a pretty young man! I know my girls will be delighted to meet you."

Charley blushed, for how could she not? But that seemed to be an appropriate response for a young man in a bawdy house, for as she straightened her back, the captain clapped her on the shoulder, his muscled arm nearly driving Charley to her knees.

"We've been preparing this lad with tales of the delights to be found here, Cornelia. I know you won't disappoint."

"Oh, we can handle all kinds of requests here, Captain. I have no worries the doctor will fit right in."

"Now, nothing unusual, Connie," David Fletcher said with a frown. "This is Charley's first time and we don't want to do anything that will frighten the boy."

"We will take care of Dr. Alcott properly, Captain. Why don't you gentlemen accompany me?"

With a swish of her skirts and a lingering fragrance of damask roses, Madame Cornelia led them into her parlor. It was decorated with framed needlework on the walls, and after ringing for refreshments Madame seated herself and picked up her latest fabric project. Charley envied her speed and dexterity as her needle flashed through the cloth.

"I would wager you could sew up a person as finely as you sew that flower, Madame Olifiers."

Madame's broad smile revealed gaps where a few teeth had gone missing over the years, but the sentiment was genuine.

"Haven't I stitched up a girl or a customer a time or two? I would imagine we have some things in common, Doctor. The ladies here need doctoring on occasion, and when I cannot get someone from the town, I do for them myself."

"I would be happy to take a look at any of your ladies needing medical assistance," Charley said. If she kept busy all night doctoring, she might not have to take her clothes off.

But Captain Fletcher had anticipated this and said, "We brought you here for a reason, Charley, and that's not it. You are here to relax and have fun. That's an order!"

Before Charley could argue, the refreshments arrived, carried in by a stately butler who could have graced a London townhouse, though his mahogany-toned skin might have made him stand out amidst the Englishmen.

"Thank you, Lasalle," Madame Olifiers said, and setting aside her work, poured them each a glass of the island's famed guavaberry cordial. "Would you fetch the parcel in my study for the captain?"

The butler bowed and exited silently, drawing the door closed behind him. Charley took a sip of her drink. It was an interesting blend, both bitter and sweet, but she set it aside, for she'd need all her wits about her tonight. Sweat was trickling down her back, and she felt her heart racing. She looked around the room, noting the location of the doors and windows if she needed to jump and run. Being nervous did not seem inappropriate for a young man's first visit to a bawdy house, and the others did not remark upon it further.

"Captain, I have some correspondence for you, and news from home. Ah, here's Lasalle with your mail. You will note some of it is marked 'urgent.'"

"There go my plans for the evening," Captain Fletcher said with a wry smile. "But it is just as well. Tonight I want the attention to be on you, Charley Alcott."

"Just as I feared," Charley said under her breath. To hell with caution. She took a fortifying swallow of her drink, and coughed.

"Careful, youngster, you're not used to strong spirits. You don't want to do anything to impair your performance later," the sage elder said as he sorted through his mail.

Charley watched him frowning down at his letters, and was glad he would not be hiring one of Madame Cornelia's girls for the evening. She didn't question why she was glad--she knew she was jealous of the sloe-eyed beauties she'd seen languidly fanning themselves on the veranda, the ones with more bountiful charms to lure a lonely sailor to bed.

The ones who were quite obviously women. And available.

"Will you stay to supper, Captain?" Madame Olifiers asked.

Captain Fletcher looked up from the letter he was reading, his eyes shadowed.

"I beg your pardon, it was rude of me to open my mail while I am here."

"Is the news from home bad, Captain?" Charley asked.

"It is mixed news, Doctor. There was fighting near my home in Baltimore. Madame Olifiers, Doctor, I have to ask you to excuse me. I am afraid I would not be good company tonight, and I need to return to my ship to draft replies for you to send home for me, Cornelia."

"Of course, Captain. Do not fear, I will give Dr. Alcott the best of the house."

"Fortunate lad!" David rose to his feet, as did Charley.

"I will see you in the morning then, Doctor. I hope this night turns out to be everything you want it to be."

"I am sure it will be a night to remember, Captain," Charley said. She looked deeply into his eyes, memorizing his features, knowing that if she had to run, this might be the last time she would see him.

"Now, no need to look so frightened. I don't know a single man yet who's died of the experience," Captain Fletcher said with a wink. Then with a nod to Madame Olifiers, he turned his back and walked out. The little parlor was still and silent in his absence.

Charley turned back to her hostess, whose blue eyes watched her over the rim of her glass as she took a small sip of her liqueur. She put down her glass and looked Charley over carefully, as Charley stood there, poised to dash out the front of the house.

"You can relax, Doctor, he is gone. Now, would you like to tell me why a young lady is pretending to be a man?"

"Good Lord," Charley gasped, and grasped the back of her chair to support her weak limbs. "Does everyone know?"

"Based on tonight's events, I expect Captain Fletcher does not know."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't see why I would. It's none of my affair. Davy Fletcher paid me for you to stay the night and receive some entertainment and an education. He did not pay me for information about you."

"Thank God," Charley said, and collapsing back into her chair gulped down the last of her drink.

"One of the specialties of this house is offering a relaxing evening in a variety of forms, Dr. Alcott. Should I continue calling you 'Dr. Alcott'?"

"Yes, it's safer that way, though you may call me Charley, if you wish."

Madame Olifiers gave her a small nod and continued.

"Some men come for the sexual congress, but others simply wish for cards or conversation. I would hope I can offer you an evening of relaxation as well."

Madame Cornelia rang for her butler.

"Ah, Lasalle. Please set supper for two. Dr. Alcott will dine with me this evening. And I do not wish to be disturbed."

"
Oui
, Madame," the butler said, bowing himself out.

Charley felt both relieved and galvanized. She didn't have to run away. Her identity was safe, for now.

She could return to the
Fancy.

"An evening of relaxation where I can let down my guard. Madame, you cannot imagine how long it has been since I have been able to do that!"

Madame Olifiers resumed her stitching, the silver needle creating art in her hands.

"Sometimes," Madame said gently, "people want to talk and unburden themselves. On St. Martin's they can go to church and confess to
Pere
Dupre. Or they can come here. You do not have to tell me, but I confess, I am intrigued and would like to hear your story. Ah, here is Lasalle. Will you escort me into supper, Doctor?"

"It would be my very great pleasure, Madame," Charley said, offering her hostess her arm. Madame Olifiers was smaller than Charley, but her short stature took nothing away from her air of authority as her eyes moved around the main parlor, no doubt noting every detail of the evening's activities.

"My girls come to me. I do not recruit at the dockside," said Madame Olifiers in answer to Charley's question. "My house has a reputation to maintain, and I do not want to have anyone here who is sullen, or unhappy with her lot." She glanced sideways at Charley. "I also do not expect my guests to criticize my house."

Charley looked down at her.

"I am curious, not critical, Madame. As Captain Fletcher pointed out, this is my first visit to an establishment such as yours, and you must own that curiosity would be natural."

"I hope over supper you will satisfy my curiosity, Dr. Alcott."

"If you keep my confidences, it is the least I can do, Madame Olifiers."

Now that Charley was more relaxed she saw that the house was spotlessly clean, and the ladies did not look beaten down or despondent. On the contrary, they appeared cheerful and pleasant as they chatted with the clients.

The dining parlor was intimate, with a table set with fine crystal and linen, the silver winking in the candlelight. The windows were open and the evening breezes rustled through the foliage outside the parlor, blowing in the flower scented air and keeping the mosquitoes away.

The meal would have pleased the emperor himself. St. Martin combined the finest of French cuisine with the produce of the island. No doubt some gourmands would have dismissed dishes like the hearty
pâté en pot
as "peasant food," but for Charley it was a treat after weeks of subsisting on sea rations and Cook's bland meals.

"More
crabbe de terre
, Doctor?"

They were serving themselves so that they could talk freely, and Charley eyed the coconut infused dish with longing, but declined.

"No, I still need to fit into my clothes, Madame, and too much will make them tight."

"And add to your womanly curves," Madame said with a smile. "I know other women who prefer to go in masculine attire, and it is easier when there is less of you to disguise."

"Oh, I do not have to worry overmuch about that," Charley said. "I have always looked like a boy."

"I can see how your appearance might fool some men, but be careful. There are others who would find your slim lines exactly to their taste."

Charley ignored this. She had heard often enough from her father that her plain looks were more suited to her boy's disguise, and after living in the company of men for so long, she knew what they liked. Their talk was all of bouncing breasts and well padded hips, or lovely swans like Miss Dixon. She'd never heard a one say, "I'd like to tup a woman who looks like a boy!"

She accepted the offer of coffee, and enjoyed the rich French brew with a new appreciation.

"Captain Fletcher has made me a convert to coffee drinking, Madame, but I vow, this is the best I have had!"

"I learned many years ago with Mr. Olifiers that if you pay attention to the small comforts, life is easier and more enjoyable. One might say that is the philosophy of this house--when a client comes here, we want him to feel comfortable. If he wants something bizarre or outrageous, there are other houses to meet his needs."

Charley was itching to ask what constituted "bizarre or outrageous," but figured she was best not going off on tangents.

All she had to do was survive this night with her identity intact and she could return to the
Fancy.

The sensible part of her mind thought that trying to make her way to the British naval station would be more prudent. But how could she put the crew of the
Fancy
at risk? While she was aboard their vessel they were her patients, and her charges. Surely risking their capture constituted a violation of her vow to "do no harm"?

"Captain Fletcher is a beautiful man, isn't he?"

Charley fumbled her coffee cup, but fortunately it was nearly empty and none spilled.

"I suppose one could say that," she tried to recover. "To me though he is just another patient."

"Really?" Madame Olifiers raised her eyebrows. "Are you then of the Sapphist persuasion, Doctor? Because, I vow, I have seldom seen a man as well put together as Handsome Davy, and I daresay I have seen more naked men than you have, or ever will! And I know Davy must feel something for you, because I assure you, he does not take random crew members to my house and pay for them to spend the night."

Charley hid her face behind her cup, cursing the color that bloomed too easily through her cheeks. She cleared her throat and looked up at her hostess.

"Whatever feelings I may have for Captain Fletcher can only remain feelings, and not actions, Madame. And as to your other question," she said trying to deflect the conversation, "I do not believe I am attracted to members of my own sex in that fashion."

"If you are we can accommodate you. There are a number of women on staff who would be delighted to spend the evening with a good-looking lady such as yourself."