The Virgin Cure (33 page)

Dancing to the front of the stage, she twisted and rolled her belly, snaking her arms this way and that. Then she lifted the bowl from her head and set it down at her feet, flames leaping high above the rim. She smiled as Mr. Dink came rushing to her side to present her with a long, thin torch. After blowing her a kiss, he scurried back off the stage.

Lady Mephistopheles put the end of the torch to the fire and set it alight. Holding it high above her head, she slowly lowered the flame to the tip of her waiting tongue. She touched it there, just for a moment, and then pulled it away as the drums in the orchestra pit faded to a low growl. Again and again she did this, until, at last, she plunged the fiery torch deep into her open mouth.

Alice gasped. “How has she not hurt herself?”

“Shh!” I put a finger to my lips, just as shocked as Alice was by the woman’s trick. “I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,” I whispered, and then held my breath, hoping I was right.

Sure enough, the lady removed the torch and bowed to us all, unharmed.

Mr. Dink returned, this time carrying a large bottle on a silver tray. Lady Mephistopheles drank from it, holding the liquid inside her mouth. Mr. Dink put his hand over his eyes and took several steps away, peeking through his fingers, pulling for a laugh. Holding her flaming torch steady, Lady Mephistopheles blew the liquid out, causing fire to explode in a great, long flash. The flame reached clear past the edge of the stage, nearly scorching the top of the bandmaster’s bald head. The crowd stomped and whistled for several minutes after that and the woman catered to their applause, breathing flames that were brighter and longer with every flash of her torch.

As she took her final bows, the crowd rose to its feet, applauding wildly. Lady Mephistopheles responded by standing in the middle of the stage, her chin held high, glaring out at the audience as if she’d just as soon set us all on fire.

At intermission, Cadet led us to the private reception room for those who sat in the boxes. He then took up his post at the entrance, lining up along the wall with the other young valets.

As we entered, Miss Everett, Alice and I faced a crush of people already milling about, laughter, conversation and wine flowing. The room was a large and beautiful space; mirrors graced three of the walls from floor to ceiling, making it the perfect place to see and be seen. Down one side was a bar from which drinks and refreshments were served. Attached on either side of the room were a gentlemen’s smoking room and a ladies’ rest lounge. Everything seemed so comfortable here, it was a wonder anyone ever went back to see the second half of the show.

The room was filled with couples, primarily older men with young ladies on their arms. No matter how beautiful their own companions, the gentlemen appraised each new girl who came through the door. It felt like a hundred pairs of eyes were on me as we made our way into the room, and I forgot to pay attention to my train, which tangled around my feet and sent me sprawling.

Alice bent to help, but Miss Everett pulled her back. Women stared over the tops of their fans and men chuckled over the rims of their champagne glasses as I sat there stunned, struggling to free my feet from the mass of cloth.

I felt hands under my shoulder blades lifting me up: a gentleman kind enough to set me right again. When I turned to thank him, he was gone.

“You’re to smile and act as if nothing’s happened,” Miss Everett hissed in my ear. “Keep hold of your train at all times if you must. I’ll not have you embarrass me again.” Going to Alice’s side, she guided her to stand a slight distance away from me, the space between us the difference between favour and failure. I had been foolish to think I belonged here with them: I was a disaster.

Not knowing where to look or what to do, I was only saved by the approach of Mr. Dink himself, now dressed in a striped waistcoat and wearing a fragrant gardenia in his lapel. His chinstrap beard was trimmed neat along the edge of his jaw, and his eyes sparkled with interest and delight. No matter his height, I thought him a fine-looking gentleman.

He took Miss Everett’s hand and kissed it. “My dear Emma,” he said. “Welcome back.”

“Mr. Dink,” she said with a smile. “It’s always such a pleasure.”

Surveying Alice and me with bright eyes, he asked, “Are these the young ladies you spoke of when last we met?”

“They are, indeed,” Miss Everett replied. “I give you Miss Alice Creaghan, and Miss Ada Fenwick.”

Rose had mentioned that Mr. Dink kept company with Miss Everett from time to time, coming to the house late in the evening with a rose in his lapel and a bouquet of lilies in the crook of his arm. Lilies were Miss Everett’s favourite flower.

“I think it’s strange,” Alice had said, shuddering to imagine Mr. Dink and Miss Everett together.

“It’s just good business,” Rose had said with a laugh. “There are three private boxes in Mr. Dink’s concert hall forever reserved in Miss Everett’s name. Why, just last week I saw
Uncle Tom’s Cabin
there, while Miss Missouri Mills was making love to her gentleman
du jour
in the box below.”

“Miss Fenwick,” Mr. Dink said now, tilting his head and looking as if he were listening to some faraway sound. “What a lovely name.”

Miss Everett nudged me with her elbow.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, and for a moment I thought of bowing to him like Nestor had taught me to do when greeting Mrs. Wentworth, but I wasn’t sure if Miss Everett would think it right. I folded my hands in front of me and looked down at the floor. To my great embarrassment, Mr. Dink stared at me for the longest time, stroking his beard and smiling.

“Forgive me,” he said. “But you remind me of a young lady I once knew. Would you happen to be Black Dutch?”

“My mother was,” I answered, thinking as soon as I’d said it that I should have lied.

Mr. Dink clapped his hands together with glee. “Aha! I knew it! The finest beauties in the world, they are, the Black Dutch girls …”

Bells rang from the hallway, and several people in the room began to move towards the door.

“I’m afraid that’s my cue, dear ladies,” Mr. Dink said. “Miss Everett, Miss Creaghan, it’s been a pleasure.” He bowed to them. “Miss Fenwick,” he said, lingering on my name and grinning. “I do hope we’ll meet again someday soon.”

As soon as he was gone, Miss Everett was at my side. “Well done,” she said, as if my fall had never happened. Adjusting the back of my skirt where my train was still slightly askew, she took my arm to help guide me along.

Alice whispered in my other ear, “He liked you so well, I thought he might start purring like a cat.”

As Cadet seated us again in our box, a group of minstrel singers performed a medley of songs in front of the curtain. Then Mr. Dink came out to announce the final act, the Ladies of the Tableaux Vivants. At first he spoke in the same boastful manner he had used to introduce all the earlier performers, but when he came to Miss Suzie Lowe, the tableau’s premiere artiste, his voice became tender and reverent.

“Your heart will soar when you see her,” he promised. “You’ll be amazed.”

As the curtain opened, there she was, naked and glorious, perched above the six other ladies in the tableau. She had one hand arched gracefully over her head and a knee turned gently to hide the curls between her legs.

The women stayed frozen for endless moments, as if a painter had captured them there. They were, to a one, perfect and lily-white, put there for us to stare at and think about and want. Miss Lowe was by far the loveliest, her chestnut hair flowing down to her hips, her mouth set in a perfect bow. Turning Rose’s glasses to the side of the stage, I spied Mr. Dink watching her, nodding slowly, his lips parted, as if to say,
Yes, oh yes
. Looking back to Miss Lowe, I could’ve sworn I saw her smile, as if to say,
Perhaps
.

As the lights and scene changed, the women transformed themselves into new paintings, new pictures. They became goddesses, then swans, then angels, then saints. Each time they moved to a different pose, the music would swell and the crowd would shower them with applause. The more they changed, the greater the audience’s appreciation. I sat with my hands to my heart, longing to be like them, to move with absolute surety, to change into whatever I wished.

Sometimes, for a moment, everything is just as you need it to be. The memories of such moments live in the heart, waiting for the time you need to think on them, if only to remind yourself that for a short while, everything had been fine, and might be so again. I didn’t have many memories like that—Mama tying her scarf around her head, my father tipping his hat before he walked away, Miss Keteltas’ birds bowing and cooing to each other, Mrs. Wentworth’s bracelet warm against my skin, the taste of sugary cake on my tongue in Miss Everett’s parlour, the feel of Cadet’s lips on mine, wet and sweet. No matter what might happen or what fate Miss Everett had in store for me, I now had the image of Miss Suzie Lowe to place alongside them. She would remind me that I was a girl who longed for things, a girl who wanted to become something more than she was seen to be.

21. Shall I soon be courted?

22. The gentleman that I am so glad to see, does he think of me?

23. Am I still thought a child?

24. Is his heart as affectionate as mine?

25. What must I do to please him?

26. Ought I answer the first letter?

27. What will happen if I go to the appointed meeting?

—from
The Ancient and Modern Ladies’ Oracle
by Mr. Cornelius Agrippa

(Infallible Prophet of the Male Sex)

W
hen I lay in bed that night, even the vision of Miss Susie Lowe couldn’t stop me from tossing and turning, and reliving the moment when I’d tripped and landed at the feet of all those gentlemen and their ladies.

Alice whispered to me in the dark, “Ada, are you all right?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

I went silent, hoping she’d leave well enough alone.

“You’re not still fretting over your fall, are you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, stop it. Miss Everett forgave you as soon as Mr. Dink appeared, I could tell.

Besides, you’re the prettiest girl here by far. She’d be foolish to put you out over one tiny stumble.”

“I’m not the prettiest.”

“According to Rose you are. I heard her tell Miss Everett so, just yesterday. Mae heard her too—didn’t you, Mae?”

Mae was sleeping like the dead.

“I know you wanted to help,” I whispered to Alice, who was truly the sweetest-natured of us all. “Thank you.”

“The gentleman who came to your aid was quite handsome,” she said. “I believe he would have introduced himself had his lady companion not beckoned to him from across the room.”

I wished it had been Cadet coming to my rescue instead, his hands wrapped around my waist, his breath warm on my neck. I knew such a thing would never happen, though, as it seemed he had no intention of ever looking at me again.

“Good night, Alice,” I said.

“Good night, Ada.”

Miss Everett came to my bedside the next morning and said, “Wear your dress that’s meant for receiving visitors today. There’s a gentleman who wishes to meet you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, wishing I could pull the quilt over my head and go back to sleep. After what had happened at the theatre, I couldn’t see how Miss Everett would think I was ready to meet with a gentleman in private, but I wasn’t about to question her orders—having tea with a man in the parlour was far better than being put out on the street.

When I got to the drawing room, Mr. Dink was there, sitting in one of Miss Everett’s high-backed velvet chairs with a sturdy-looking wooden box at his feet. As I entered, he stood up from his chair and stepped onto the box to greet me.

“Miss Fenwick,” he said, presenting me with a bouquet of scarlet roses that matched the bud tucked in his lapel. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

As I accepted the flowers, I couldn’t help but think of Mr. Dink showering Miss Everett with lilies and affection, and the way Rose had insisted it was all for the sake of good business.

“And you as well,” I replied.

Miss Everett, standing near the doorway, smiled at Mr. Dink. “Coffee or tea?” she asked.

“I’m afraid I’ve only time for business today.”

“Very well,” Miss Everett replied. “Shall we get on with it, then?” Taking a seat on the armchair opposite Mr. Dink, she motioned for me to settle myself on the couch.