Page 13 of Doxy for the Ton (Misfits of the Ton #7)

A fter glancing over her shoulder to ensure she was alone, and unobserved, Mimi approached the tiny house and knocked on the door.

It opened to reveal a thin woman with jet-black hair peppered with gray. Her wrinkled face creased into a gap-toothed smile.

“Oh, Mimi darlin’, you don’t know how wonderful it is to see you again!” She pulled Mimi into an embrace, then ushered her inside. “I was worried something had happened to you. Not that we always expect you to come—we’re right grateful for anything you do for us.”

“Forgive me for not coming sooner, Mrs. Briggs,” Mimi said. The other woman arched an eyebrow, and Mimi bit her lip, cursing her lapse in accent. Since she’d moved into Grosvenor Square, she had accustomed herself to speaking in the accent she’d grown up with, and the accent of the slums—the harsh, flat vowels of the street whore—were all but forgotten.

“You sound different, love,” Mrs. Briggs said. “What’s happened?” She gestured toward Mimi’s cloak. “I’ve not seen anything that fine on you before. Got yerself a protector? I thought you’d sworn never to depend on a man again.” Then she shook her head. “I always knew you weren’t what you seemed. It was the way you carried yerself. I said to myself, you’re no ordinary whore.”

“But I’m a whore nonetheless,” Mimi said.

“Only if you let yerself be defined by how you earn a living.” Mrs. Briggs pressed her hand to her chest. “It’s what’s inside here that defines what you are. I hope yer protector treats you like a lady.”

“I have no protector, Mrs. Briggs,” Mimi said. “But my fortunes have taken a turn for the better.”

Mrs. Briggs shook her head. “Many a young woman in your position has said the same.”

“But they have ,” Mimi said, taking Mrs. Briggs’s hand. “I’ve secured a small stipend for the next six months, with a cash sum at the end. It’ll be enough to set me up so that I never have to sell my body again.”

Mrs. Briggs tutted. “And you’ve fallen for it? Girl, I thought you were smarter than that. If a man pays you a stipend, then you’re his mistress.”

“We’ve agreed to part company next summer,” Mimi said. “As to the payment, he showed me a letter that his banker has signed as guarantor. Do you know what that means?”

Mrs. Briggs shook her head.

“It means I can give you more than I ever have before,” Mimi said. “I can buy a house, away from London—in the country, where the air is clean. Think of that!”

“Mimi, darlin’, you can’t rely on this man—whoever he is.”

“I don’t intend to rely on him, Mrs. Briggs—that’s the point. When our business is concluded, I’ll be free. There should be enough for me to find somewhere for you—and for the girls here.”

“Mimi, darlin’, there’s no need.”

“There’s every need,” Mimi said. “You took me in when I had nowhere to go.”

“You’ve paid me back a hundredfold with everything you’ve done for us. We’re content with what we have—we’re luckier than some.”

“But what if I found you a home in the country?” Mimi asked. “Somewhere for you and the women here? I could set up a school—teach the girls skills so they can find employment. Maybe even a spot of land, so you can grow your own food.”

“You’re a kind girl, that’s for certain,” Mrs. Briggs said. “You indulge your dreams if they make you happy. Now, why don’t we have some tea? Anna’s put the pot on to boil.”

She led Mimi along the narrow corridor and into the parlor at the back, where a young woman sat in the corner, leaning back, her eyes closed, while a child crawled on the floor at her feet.

As Mimi entered, the woman opened her eyes and sat upright. She picked up the child and embraced it, her eyes widening.

“Lily, darlin’, this is Mimi,” Mrs. Briggs said. “Remember, I told you about Mimi? She’ll not hurt you.”

The woman rose to her feet and turned toward the window, and Mimi’s heart ached as she noticed a darkening bruise on Lily’s cheek. Her body shook with fragility and the child in her arms wailed and struggled.

Mimi stepped toward her. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

Lily glanced toward Mrs. Briggs, and her trembling increased.

“Shall we leave you alone, Lily darlin’?” Mrs. Briggs asked. “Or perhaps you’d like to take your rest. Your bedchamber’s empty—Mary’s out working.”

Lily nodded, then shuffled toward the door, her gaze fixed on Mimi. Understanding her fear, Mimi retreated toward the fireplace, enabling the other woman to exit the parlor without passing too close. Lily sidled toward the doorway, then fled, clattering up the stairs.

“Forgive her,” Mrs. Briggs said. “She’s frightened of strangers. She wouldn’t speak a word to me for a full day after she arrived.”

“What happened to her?” Mimi asked.

“Her husband was killed. Fell into the river drunk—served him right, the way he’d knocked her about. She took to the streets to support her little ’un, but her landlord threw her out when she couldn’t pay the rent. Mary found her on the street after one of her customers had beaten her in front of Sam.”

“Sam?”

“That’s her boy, poor mite. Hardly been in the world three years and he’s seen more than most of us would hope to see in a lifetime. Ah—there’s Anna with the tea.”

A young woman entered, carrying a tray.

“Mimi!” she cried, a smile illuminating her features. “We’ve not seen you for a bit. We were gettin’ worried, especially after what happened to Bessie.”

“Bessie?” Mimi asked, recalling the flame-haired young woman from her last visit.

“She went out four days ago,” Mrs. Briggs said. “Never came home.”

“She might return in time,” Mimi said.

Anna let out a sob, and Mrs. Briggs shook her head. “No, darlin’,” she said. “Poor Bessie was found face down in the street the next night.”

“Dear Lord!” Mimi said. “How can I live with myself knowing what’s happening here?” She fished inside her reticule and pulled out a handful of coins. Then she shook her head and tipped out the entire contents. “Take it,” she said. “Take all of it.”

“No,” Mrs. Briggs said. “We cannot take all your money—only what you can afford.”

“What I can afford?” Mimi said. “How can I indulge in the life I have now when I know that so many others are suffering?”

“Because you’ve earned it, darlin’.”

Mimi shook her head. “I came there by sheer luck.”

“Luck—and the lack of it—is something that we must all reconcile ourselves with, darlin’,” Mrs. Briggs said. “You’ve had your share of bad luck, like the rest of us. Don’t wallow in the bottom of the ditch merely because you feel guilty for being given a chance in life. And don’t feel guilty for the life you lead merely because others have less than you.”

“But how can I stand it when I see the women here?”

“None of us resent you for having more than us,” Mrs. Briggs said. “If anyone does, that reflects poorly on their character rather than yours. You do more than enough for us.”

“I can never do enough for you, Mrs. Briggs,” Mimi said. “But if you’ll not accept my money, then I’ll help in other ways.”

Mrs. Briggs took her hand and patted it. “I know you will. And I’m sure Anna has plenty for you to do in the kitchen. Isn’t that right, Anna?”

“Aye, that’s right, Mrs. Briggs,” Anna said. “Mrs. Pickersgill sent over a bit of scrag end for a stew. You can help with that if you like—and there’s a pile of mending needing doin’.”

“Tea first,” Mrs. Briggs said. “Then perhaps a spot of cake. But you’ll only get yer cake if you get to the bottom of that pile of mending. Handing over yer coins doesn’t exempt you from hard work.” Her eyes sparkled with affection as she poured the tea then handed a cup to Mimi. “Anna, will Ethel and Jinny be joining us, or are they out?”

“Ethel’s out, but Jinny’s been inside all day—she tripped over on the street and hasn’t yet recovered. She’s been doin’ the laundry.”

“Tell her to join us, Anna darlin’. She’ll scrub those hands of hers raw if she’s not careful.”

Anna exited the parlor, then returned with a thin woman—barely older than a girl—with pale-blonde hair and a swollen lip. She limped into the parlor and smiled at Mimi before pouring a cup of tea for herself.

Tripped over on the street.

That was the doxy’s phrase for having been beaten by a customer. Mimi didn’t know what was worse—Jinny’s injuries, or her acceptance of them.

But everyone in the room—including Mimi herself—had sustained some injury or other at the hands of a man who either refused to pay, or who took pleasure from her pain.

Which was why it was imperative that Mimi’s plan worked. These women deserved a better life. In fact, all women deserved a better life, but if she couldn’t help every woman in England, she could at least help the women who occupied this little corner of London that had once been her sanctuary after she had lost everything.