The Spirit Room (58 page)

Clara shook her head. She didn’t want to explain about Weston and Reilly and Papa’s plans for Euphora. She couldn’t, not yet.

“
I was miserable, that’s all, always worried he would hurt me or Euphora.”

“
Why didn’t you go to your older sister in Rochester?”

“
I was afraid he’d find me there. My plan is to wait at least six months before we go there.”

“
He won’t find you here. There’s too many people. The city’s too big. It just can’t happen, even if he is here. And maybe that wasn’t even him in the store.”

“
You don’t think so?”

Clara turned toward Hannah who was shaking her head.

Hannah squeezed Clara’s arm. “Nah, it just can’t happen. It’s too crowded here.”

“
Maybe he tracked Euphora to Mrs. Purcell’s cousin. Maybe that’s why he’s here. Maybe I should go and get her right this minute.”

“
He would have found her by now if he knew about the cousin.”

That did seem sensible. It had been seven weeks since they’d been gone and no one had heard anything about him at the Hogarth’s. Clara sighed. Perhaps Hannah was right. Perhaps the bustle of New York could hide her, but she’d have to be watchful all the time when she was out. She’d have to scan every man’s face on every block of every street. It was exhausting just to think of it. Hannah withdrew her arm and walked a few steps away.

“
I want to tell you something too,” Hannah said. She paused while a woman and two boys passed them. “I made a decision.” Clearing her throat, her pointy chin rising up, she wrapped herself tighter inside her black wool shawl. Her mouth twitched a bit.

Blazes, what was it? Clara held her breath.

“
I went to visit Abbie last evening when you were sewin’ downstairs with some of the girls. You remember her, don’t you? She’s the friend we saw at the St. Nicholas Hotel that first day.”

Clara had not forgotten who Abbie was, with her five dollars and lovely dress.

“
I can’t owe you or anyone else more money. I can never repay it. It’s too much. You need your money or what’s left of it. There’s only a tiny little breath or two between me and the Five Points or Corlears Hook…or the Almshouse.”

Clara couldn’t stand to think of her friend in one of those places. She had heard about the Five Points and Corlears Hook at their boardinghouse at night when the women told stories in their rooms. Five Points was a terrible, poor, slum of a place at Anthony, Cross, and Orange Streets, where there were overcrowded tenements and diseases and criminals and murders every single week. Corlears Hook was over on the east side along Walnut Street near the coal dumps and shipyards and the Brooklyn ferry. They said there were more brothels in Corlears Hook than all the other kinds of shops and businesses put together. Both places were full of prostitutes who sold themselves cheaply and got sick and sometimes were injured by their customers.

She couldn’t let Hannah end up there. She just couldn’t, and she wouldn’t let herself either.

“
Abbie says her madam is looking for a girl or two,” Hannah said. “I’m going to see the madam this afternoon. That’s why I wanted to dress up today, the true reason.” She let out a big breath.

Clara desperately wanted to sit. She looked around but there was nothing nearby to perch on.

“
You’ll live there if the madam takes you?”

“
Abbie says she’s a fair woman.”

The rowboat Clara had been watching arrived at a barge that was docked beside the tall ship. The six passengers began to disembark the little boat and climb a stairway up onto the ship.

At least now she wouldn’t have to tell Hannah about the end of her loans. But Hannah was leaving her. This was worse.

“
If the madam takes me, I’ll pay my debt to you soon and take care of myself and we can still be friends, Clara.”

“
Why wouldn’t she take you?”

“
It’s a fancy place. For the aristos.” Hannah smiled slightly. “I might not be fancy enough for the aristos. Abbie says the madam only takes the pretty ones.”

“
You’re fancy enough and pretty enough for anyone.”

“
Do you think I’m shameful?”

Clara bit the inside of her mouth. “I want to come with you.”

“
You mean walk me there?”

“
Not just that. Maybe the madam will take both of us. We can stay together.”

Hannah grinned, but then her eyes grew worried. “What if the madam only wants you? She’ll be sure to take you over me. You’re much prettier than I am.”

“
That’s just not so, but I’ll tell her we come as a pair and that’s that.”

“
Are you sure?”

Clara gazed out at the barge. Her six people had all climbed the stairs to the ship and were gone from sight. She nodded at Hannah, then took her arm again. They walked back through the park, back up Broadway, then west over to 75 Green Street, the address Abbie had given to Hannah.

<><><>

CLARA AND HANNAH WERE USHERED
into the parlor house by a Negro man with a wild beard and equally wild hair. He introduced himself as James and, as he escorted them into the madam’s office, Clara glimpsed fine furniture, oriental rugs, and a piano in a parlor to their right. He told them to sit and left them. Afternoon sun poured onto the madam’s oak desk, which was tidy and clear except for a stack of ledgers. Hannah was quiet so Clara decided not to speak, either. Looking around the room, Clara became entranced with a large painting of a ship thrashing at sea. The ship was rocking so violently that it made her queasy so she looked down at her hands in her lap.

“
My name is Mary Johnson. How did you girls hear about my parlor house?” The madam, in her plain brown dress, was a giant, at least six feet tall. She spoke in a low voice as she crossed the room and swung around behind her desk. Clara was surprised, expecting the madam to be more dazzling, but this woman had a simple, kind look.

Hannah sat up alertly. “My friend Abbie told us, ma’am.”

“
How old are you both? What are your names?” Mary Johnson retrieved a tiny cigar from a drawer, then took her seat.

Lawks
, she couldn’t mean to smoke it, thought Clara.

“
I’m seventeen. I’m Hannah.”

“
I’m sixteen. Clara.”

If Hannah was going to lie about her age, she’d better too.

Lighting a match, the madam put the slender cigar into her mouth and sucked the flame into the rolled tobacco. Then she blew out a stream of smoke that formed a smelly cloud in front of her face. She leaned back in her chair.

Clara raised a fist to her mouth and coughed. She had never seen a woman smoke. Mary Johnson gave her a wise-looking half smile.

“
You both look younger than that.” She took another draw on the cigar. “Do either of you have any experience as girls on the town?”

Clara froze. If she explained her qualifications, Hannah might lose respect for her. She’d better let Hannah answer first.

“
No, ma’am. I haven’t been with a man yet in that way, for pay or not.”

“
Why do you want this kind of work?”

“
It’s the money, ma’am. I can’t find anything but seamstress piece work and I’ve got debts now.” Hannah glanced at Clara. “I know all about men, though.” Her voice cracked, but she kept on. “I worked as a barmaid in a tavern last year in Pennsylvania. I heard everything there was to hear coming out of ‘em.”

Clara didn’t know about Hannah’s being a barmaid. She wasn’t entirely sure it was true, but Hannah sounded convincing. Her friend sure as blazes had courage.

“
There’s a big difference between hearing them talk and screwing them, one after another on a daily basis.” Mary Johnson put the wet end of the cigar into her mouth and inhaled again. She looked at the two of them, studying. “What about you, Clara?”

If she wanted to be in Mary Johnson’s brothel, and get Hannah in with her, she’d better put her experience forward. She’d been told her entire life that she was pretty, but that might not be enough.

“
I do have experience of a sort.” Clara swallowed slowly. “Not here in New York City, back home in Geneva.”

“
Who did you work with there?”

Clara hesitated, glancing up at the ship careening in the storm. Her scalp tingled. “I worked for my father. I only had two clients, but it was steady, over a number of months.”

The urge to cry rushed up from her gut, but she concentrated hard on keeping the tears back. She felt Hannah’s eyes on her, but couldn’t look over at her.

“
Well, that’s a new one on me. I’ve known mothers who have groomed their daughters to be courtesans, but never a father.” Mary Johnson took a moment to stub out her cigar. “How did you start at such a young age? You’re not sixteen. I know sixteen.”

“
First it was one man who was fond of me and asked for me. Papa told me every day that our family needed the money. Besides that, Papa’s a drinker. Sometimes he’d hit my twin brother, Billy, and hurt him badly. It got so I was afraid he’d kill Billy someday.” She bit the inside of her mouth. “I tried not to go with the man, but Papa said that if I didn’t bring the money in, he’d be so worried that he knew he’d lose control of himself and take it out on Billy. So I did what my Papa asked me. Then he made me keep it a secret. After a while he brought this other fellow who paid even more.” She looked down at her hands in her lap, still feeling Hannah’s eyes on her. “So I just went on and kept quiet.”

It felt good to let the ugly secret out into the air. But as she did, something stirred in her belly, a terrifying anger. It made her want to jump up, pound the desk and scream, throw something heavy through the sunny window. But she held steady. Mary Johnson and Hannah were both looking intently at her. She locked her hands tightly onto the carved wooden arms of her chair and waited for the flood inside to pass.

Finally she turned toward Hannah. Her eyes now moist with tears, Hannah looked away toward Mary Johnson. If Hannah turned cold on her, it would be impossible to keep from crying.

“
Are you two good friends?”

“
Yes, ma’am.” Hannah’s voice was clear as she returned to her alert posture. “We only met this winter, but we’re like sisters. The first time we spoke we were like sisters.”

Sighing quietly and relaxing her grip on the chair arms, Clara settled back slightly.

“
Hannah, do you have any more dresses as nice as this?” Mary Johnson gestured toward Hannah.

“
No, ma’am, just this one.”

Mary Johnson sat back, then selected a ledger from the stack and pulled it out. She tapped her fingers on it a moment.

“
Well, then, I’ll bring you on together. Friends take care of each other in the life of prostitution.” Mary Johnson looked at Clara. “If Hannah has a hard time when she starts out, then Clara, you can let her cry on your shoulder or whatever it is she needs.”

Hannah tittered nervously and grinned. Clara wasn’t sure they should be happy, but they had succeeded. They’d be together and they’d make a living wage and they’d be far enough from the Five Points and Corlears Hook.

Mary Johnson opened the ledger. “We’re putting your bodies to work and those bodies will need care. I’ve got a regular physician for the house, but I’ll go over all that sort of thing with you later.”

Clara gripped the chair arms again. If the physician was regular, someone in the house was in need of attention more often than not.

Mary Johnson dipped her pen into an inkwell and began to write. “You can come in tomorrow to talk to the girls if you like, but I want you in two weeks. I charge you ten dollars a week, plus one dollar bed money per night.”

Eyes wide, Hannah gasped. Mary Johnson put the pen down firmly.

“
I set the prices with the men, usually five to eight dollars, but you collect the money. It’s yours except what you owe me. You’ll find that’s more than fair for a house of this caliber. And there’s no streetwalking unless it’s slow and you have my permission. My house has an excellent reputation and I don’t want you wrecking it. When I do give you permission, your arrangements are up to you, but you’ll still owe the bed money every night you have a gent.”

She continued writing, her hand solid and steady. “But most nights there’s usually plenty of sporting gents in the parlor to go around. I provide a clean, safe place with good locks on the front and back doors. The men only get in if they have an introduction and then we lock the doors up as soon as all the girls are taken. There’s a stocked liquor cabinet and the customers pay for that as they use it. They buy the bottles and you can drink what they offer if you like.” She finished with her ledger and looked up. “My girls don’t take opium. Ever. If a gentleman offers you an opium smoke, you refuse. If I find out you are taking the opium, you are out on the street. Agreed?”