Page 4 of Mrs. Victoria Buys A Brothel

C hapter 4

Swainsburg

David was right, Swainsburg was not much to look at. The main street stretched before them, wide and dusty, with a row of modest buildings on each side. People watched them from their porches and open doors. Victoria, feeling self-conscious, hunched up and hid under her hat.

David sighed. “Yeah, they’re like that. They’re used to me coming and going, but you’re all new and shiny. They’re vultures and you’re dead meat. Fresh dead meat. It’s just a matter of time before they descend.”

Victoria did not want to meet the townspeople. Not when she was tired, hurt and dirty.

They stopped in front of a quaint little house. Two children and a young man came running, calling David’s name. He jumped down and hugged the kids.

“Hey, you rascals! How have you been?”

They yelled simultaneously about their day. Next to them, the young man was vibrating with excitement, fidgeting with a strap of his overalls.

David finally disentangled himself from his younger siblings and turned to him. “Hey, James!” Unlike the other two, he did not hug him. “I missed you lots!”

“David!” he grinned. Victoria noticed he was taller and probably younger. Besides both of them being Black, they did not look alike at all. David had no similar traits to either the children, Martha or her husband, when she thought about it.

“Is mama home?” he asked James, who was flailing with excitement.

James made a gesture towards the house. Then, without another word, he marched to the horses and started unbuckling the harnesses.

A middle-aged woman, wearing a modest dress, her hair tied in an impeccable bun, appeared at the door. Upon seeing David, she squealed in joy, crushed him in a bear hug and covered his face in kisses. “You’re back! Oh, I thought I wouldn’t see you for a fortnight, at least! Look at you, still so thin. Is Martha even feeding you?”

“You know she does, Ma,” he rolled his eyes like a teenager. “She sends her love.” He hesitated. “She also sends a request.”

He made a head gesture towards Victoria and whispered quickly. David’s mother glanced at her and frowned. David whispered with more insistence.

The woman eventually sighed and made her way around the wagon. Without her smile, she seemed strict and forbidding. Victoria felt particularly disheveled next to her.

“Hello, Mrs.Montgomery,” she said, her voice softer than her expression. “I’m Simone Jackson, David’s mother. Welcome to Swainsburg.”

“Thank you,” she said, falling back on her manners. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. Do you need help getting down?”

Victoria wanted to refuse. Accepting aid from Martha and David had been hard enough, but this was a stranger. She was not comfortable at the idea of being touched, either.

“Oy!” yelled a voice from across the street, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you trying to steal the newcomer, old hag?”

A young woman strode from the porch of what was, apparently, the town’s brothel. She was Mexican, tall and strong-shouldered, her hair black and her skin tan. She wore decent clothes indecently; her blouse was unbuttoned enough to show she wore no chemise underneath.

“Step back, you depraved hussy,” snapped Mrs.Jackson. “Return to your den of sin.”

“No need to be such a bitch,” said the girl with venom. “I just want to say hello.” She turned to Victoria, all smiles. “Hi, I’m—” She stopped mid-sentence upon seeing Victoria’s face.

“Go back to your side of the street,” sneered Mrs.Jackson. “You have no right to—”

“ Simone ,” cut the young woman.

They glared at each other, having an entire silent argument. Mrs.Jackson eventually scoffed and crossed her arms. “No,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t have the space and we do.”

“On one of your beds?”

“Of course not, we need those. But Sam’s old room is still there. It’s got a bed and even a window.” She turned to Victoria, apologetic. “I promise there has been no sex with dirty cowboys on those sheets.”

“She was entrusted to me,” growled Mrs.Jackson. “How could I, in good conscience, send her to your immoral—”

“Just take that bible out of your ass for two seconds—”

“I don’t mind,” muttered Victoria. They both spun towards her, suddenly remembering her presence. “If I could borrow a bed, anywhere, I would be most grateful.”

Mrs.Jackson glared at the young woman. “Fine. But I’ll be watching.”

“Aren’t you always.”

Mrs.Jackson sighed, exhausted. “Let’s get her inside. Consuelo, help me.”

Victoria climbed down with their assistance. They were surprisingly gentle despite the fight they just had in public.

“Do you have any luggage?” asked Consuelo.

“Here!” David called from the back of the wagon. “I got it, Mrs.M!” He brought the white wedding dress, the frilly layers of satin engulfing him.

“What in the heavens is that?” asked Mrs.Jackson.

Victoria felt everyone’s stares. “My wedding dress,” she muttered.

“Why would you— David!” she snapped.

He had taken a single step towards the brothel. “I’m just dropping this for Mrs.M! Nothing else, Ma!”

“You know perfectly well that you’re not allowed on that side of the street, young man. Give that dress to the whore.”

David handed it to Consuelo, sheepish. “Sorry about that. It’s kind of heavy, here, grab the bottom before it gets dirty. Would be a shame, for such a pretty dress, don’t you think so? Thank you very much, Miss Consuelo. And how is Miss Lisette, by the way?”

“David!” snapped Mrs.Jackson.

“I’m just being polite!”

“Lisette is well,” said Consuelo, raising both her eyebrows. “Siobhan is too if you wish to know.”

“Ah, that’s good. Tell her hello, for me? Huh, and to Miss Siobhan too, of course. I’ll just… I’ll just go,” he mumbled, before walking back to his mother’s side of the street.

“In the kitchen,” said Mrs.Jackson. “Now.”

“Gotta go,” he told Victoria. “You’ll be alright, Mrs.M, they’re very nice people. I’ll be right across if you need me.”

He scurried back inside before she could thank him. Suddenly, Victoria found herself surrounded by strangers.

“You’re way too mean to that poor boy,” said Consuelo.

“The way I raise my children is none of your concern,” snapped back Mrs.Jackson. “Just leave.”

“Gladly!” She marched into the brothel, arms full with the dress. Victoria had no choice but to follow.

The building looked no different than the others in town, with its two stories, thin windows and covered porch. There was a faded sign that said “Bordello” over the doors, which were made of solid wood with a heavy locking mechanism. Consuelo pushed them open with the swing of a hip and disappeared inside.

Victoria had expected something intimate, with thick velour curtains and chintz chaises longues. Instead, she found herself in a small saloon. There was a bar at the back with a big mirror between shelves of bottles. Tables and chairs were piled haphazardly against the right wall. On the left one, stairs hugged the corner and led to the second floor where, behind the balcony railing, three doors lined up. The one on the right was decorated with a crown of wildflowers.

There was a single table in the middle of the floor. It was covered in a nice tablecloth, with pretty flowers embroidered all along the fringe.

“Take a seat,” said Consuelo, dumping the white dress on the nearest chair. She turned around and bellowed: “Girls! We got company!”

“Paying company?” shouted someone from the second level.

“No, so get dressed!”

A heavy groan was her only answer. To the right of the bar, a door opened. A pretty brown-haired girl stepped out. “Oh, bonjour ! Consuelo, why didn’t you warn me we would have a visitor!” She spoke with a French accent, her voice melodious and her huge eyes very expressive.

“Spur of the moment. Put the kettle on and reheat the leftovers.”

The French girl scoffed. “Leftovers? She’s a guest ! I’ll cook something.”

“Please,” muttered Victoria, shoulders hunched, “don’t go through all that trouble. Anything you have on hand would be perfect.”

“Just get some food on that table,” said Consuelo, sitting in front of Victoria. When the kitchen door closed back on the French girl, she leaned in, serious.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, thank you for asking,” Victoria answered automatically. “I’ll admit I’m a bit worn out by the trip, but I’m sure a good night’s rest will do me wonders. I can be out of your way tomorrow morning.”

Consuelo frowned. “You can stay longer than that. You look like you need a week of sleep.”

“Oh, I would not dream to impose for so long.”

“Just—” she grew impatient, “just take the bed. Nobody’s using it, not since the landlord died. No one here will kick you out. You can stay as long as you need, at least until that arm gets better.”

Victoria tried to hide her unease. “This is far too much; I really do not want to abuse your hospitality.” Faced with Consuelo’s obstinate expression, she deflated. “You just met me.”

Consuelo stared for a while. “Half of your face is purple, did you know that?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The bruise. And the arm. Don’t think I didn’t notice you limping.” She waved a dismissive hand. “We’ve all been there, at some point. This is a whore house, we’ve seen far worse, believe me.”

“I certainly would not want to downplay your hardships…”

“You’re not.” She sighed. “When I hit rock bottom, there was no one to help me. I can’t really help the girls, either, we’re all stuck at the same place. But we got an empty room, with a door you can lock from the inside, and I think this is something you need right now. Am I wrong?”

Victoria felt tears coming up. Before she could break down, the kitchen door opened again. The French girl returned with a tray heavy with mugs and cookies.

“Voilà!” she chirped. “Something to nibble on while supper warms up. I’m Lisette,” she smiled.

There was another shout from upstairs. “Is the food ready?”

“And that’s Siobhan,” Lisette grimaced, apologetic. She then turned around and yelled back, “Stop being uncivilized and come say hello!”

“There’s tea and cookies!” added Consuelo, piling some in front of Victoria. “Eat, before she gets here.”

Victoria’s manners fought with her hunger. She glanced at Consuelo, who had already engulfed a cookie and was on the second, and at Lisette, who walked back to the kitchen with one half-shoved in her mouth.

After a week of beans, lard, and water biscuits, the sweetness of the oatmeal cookie was heavenly.

“Good, huh?” asked Consuelo, grabbing another one.

“Divine,” Victoria sighed.

“You speak so pretty,” she chuckled. “You can smell the fanciness on you.”

She crunched her nose. “At this point in time, I highly doubt it. If anything, I reek of sweat, and horse.”

“Everyone here reeks of sweat and horse. But if your way of talking and your manners weren’t enough, there’s that,” she gestured at the wedding dress with her chin. “Either it’s yours or you murdered someone for it.”

“I would never!”

There was the slam of a door coming from the second floor. A girl with a massive head of red curls stomped down the stairs and sat at the head of the table, slouching carelessly. She glanced at Victoria.

“Huh. He sure didn’t miss you.”

“Siobhan!” snapped Consuelo.

At their surprise, Victoria burst out laughing. She tried to keep an undignified snort from coming out, but failed. “He certainly did not.”

“Yeah, I can see, your face is all ugly. No offence.”

“Please forgive her, she was raised by wild coyotes,” sighed Consuelo.

Lisette came back with a bowl of green pea soup and a loaf of bread.

“What, just for her?” asked Siobhan.

“We just ate,” said Lisette.

“What if I’m still hungry?”

“Then get up and fetch it yourself, I’m not your maid.”

Siobhan huffed but did not move from her seat. Lisette pulled up a chair and served tea all around.

“Girls, this is Mrs.Victoria,” said Consuelo, handing her the prettiest mug. “She’s going to stay with us for a while.”

“Indeed?” smiled Lisette. “Oh, how nice, we never have guests!”

“Besides the dirty cowboys,” added Siobhan.

“Besides the dirty cowboys,” nodded Consuelo.

They chatted among themselves, letting Victoria eat in silence. She was grateful to them for not trying to include her in the conversation.

The moment she finished her soup, Lisette stopped in the middle of a sentence and turned to her, eyes like a hungry wild cat.

“Can we see the dress?” she said, vibrating with impatience. “Please?”

Victoria had almost forgotten its existence. “Of course, you may go ahead.”

Lisette jumped out of her chair and, with Siobhan’s help, unfolded the mountains of fabric. Consuelo wiped the closest table so they could spread it.

Lisette whimpered. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my entire life.” There were tears in her eyes. “Look at that lace, and that embroidery! And oh mon Dieu , are those tiny pearls?”

“Why on Earth did you bring that thing all the way here?” asked Siobhan, lifting the frills.

“Pretty easy to guess,” said Consuelo, grabbing the bottom end of a petticoat, where a solid shape was visible in the seam. “Did your mother never teach you anything?” She found a small hole and pulled out a long gold necklace, with a medallion of red coral. “Nice. The bank is open all week, I’m sure they’ll give you a decent price for this.”

“Not at the current rate of gold,” grumbled Siobhan, who had just found an emerald bracelet.

Lisette let out a dreamy sigh. “Did you really get married in this?”

Victoria took another sip of tea. She did not want to think about the wedding, or about Earl, but answering some questions was the least she could do to thank them for their warm welcome.

“It was a present from my father. The queen of England had recently wed wearing a sumptuous white dress. It became the new fad all over Europe, and even New York. He went a bit overboard, I must admit, but this was the talk of the town for a whole month.”

Lisette sighed again. Consuelo was busy finding everything hidden in the seams, while Siobhan piled them in front of Victoria, counting under her breath.

“Not bad,” she eventually said. “You should be able to buy a house here, and some land, since they’re selling acreage for pennies. You could even get something in a big city, if you wanted. Well, maybe not New York.”

“New York?” Victoria whispered, overwhelmed. The idea of leaving again twisted her insides.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” said Consuelo. “You can get some rest, first. Just let us air out Sam’s room, no one’s been there in ages.”

Lisette finally took her eyes off the dress. “I think we have clean sheets!” she chirped, before disappearing under the stairs. There, at the left of the bar, behind the crates and barrels, was a plain door.

“It’s pretty small, but it’s clean,” said Consuelo. “It even has a window!”

“It has a nice view of the shitter,” added Siobhan.

The room was just big enough for a small bed and a chest of drawers. Lisette helped her with the buttons of her shirt, and then brought her fresh water and a towel. Victoria barely had enough strength to wash her face.

She bid them good night, and locked the door with a relieved sigh.

She lay down in the dark, listening to the wind.

Then the tears came.