Emma Holloway - A Study in Ashes

“That is not for me to say,” Hyacinth demurred.

“Don’t be coy,” the Violet Queen snapped. “I warmed his bed for years. Don’t forget we deal in information just as readily as pleasure.”

So it seems . But Hyacinth just gave a respectful nod.

“Tell me,” the older woman went on airily, though her voice was as hard and thin as blown glass. “Since you fancy the darker arts of our profession, do you enjoy receiving like treatment?”

“Only from experienced hands,” Hyacinth replied, an edge creeping into her own words. No matter her profession, some things were personal. “Too many who pick up a whip have no sense of finesse. Flogging is not merely clubbing someone to death with strips of leather. That is not only ineffectual but embarrassing in the extreme.”

That surprised a laugh from the Violet Queen. “I think I may come to like you, Miss Hyacinth. It is hard not to appreciate a connoisseur—especially one who looks fair to earning me a profit.”

“A profit, madam?” Hyacinth sat up straight. She’d guessed this was more than a social summons, but she hadn’t seen this coming.

The dog, clearly sensitive to the charged atmosphere, began to whine and run in circles. The Violet Queen hushed it with a sharp word.

“We shall get to that point, but before we do, tell me something of yourself,” said the woman. This time, her tone brooked no argument. “I know a little, Miss Asterley-Henderson.”

Hyacinth flinched inside. She hated hearing her old name, hated remembering the position she’d lost, but she’d be damned before she showed that to this old tabby. Yet that stab of regret was followed by an icy trickle of fear. Her true identity was her Achilles’ heel.

She folded her hands in her lap, eyes demurely downcast. “Then you are aware that I was previously known as the Honorable Violet Isadora Asterley-Henderson. My father was a viscount.” And she’d had a dowry that could have bought a decent slice of Mayfair.

“Your given name is Violet?” asked the Violet Queen.

I state my personal tragedy—the loss of rank, family, honor, virtue—and this is what she fastens on? “I changed it, of course,” she said hastily. “To bear the name Violet in this occupation would be presumptuous.”

“I should think so,” the queen of whores said tartly. “I assume you received a decent education?”

“At the Wollaston Academy for Young Ladies.” And what does that have to do with anything?

The Violet Queen’s lip curled in feline satisfaction. Hyacinth was clearly under the velvet of her paw, but the claws could come out at any moment. “Ah, yes, where you dabbled in black magic, exposing your family to the law. Not a highly intelligent move, I must say. It would be best for you if you considered that lesson learned.”

The door to the purple cave suddenly opened, making Hyacinth jump. A finely boned serving man glided in with a silver tray. A quick assessment told Hyacinth he was likely a pleasure boy who had aged out of his role. He set down the tray, waited for the Violet Queen’s dismissal, bowed, and left.

Hyacinth stared at the tray of glasses, cups, and pastries, trapped between her current reality and her history at Wollaston. Remembering was like vitriol on her soul. There had been a young man, and he had died, and she had wanted him back. All it had taken was a spell. How was she supposed to know that he would return as the shambling dead? The only one who’d tried to help Hyacinth out of that disaster had been Evelina Cooper, but there was only so much even she had been able to do. She helped me put Tom back into his grave, but she couldn’t save me from my own folly .

The spell had been a terrible mistake, one born of unspeakable grief. Her family had paid. She’d paid. The school had been shut down, the headmistress ruined for failing to stop illegal acts within its walls. And now this hag was dragging it all up again.

“I believe you were the only member of your family spared execution by fire, and that only on account of your youth. You were supposed to spend your remaining days in Her Majesty’s Laboratories, I believe.” She paused, her cat’s smile widening to show small, white teeth. “Would you care for some cordial? You’ve gone a trifle pale, Miss Hyacinth.”

“I learned a lesson about magic, madam.” Hyacinth’s stomach was a painful knot and nervous sweat soaked her chemise where it was trapped beneath her stays.

“And one about obedience as well, I hope.”

“More than one, in fact. My obedience, and the enforcement thereof, was why my captors granted me leniency. That was where I discovered I had a talent for persuasion, and they were the ones who showed me the use of my tools. As I mentioned before, they were quite the enthusiasts once I convinced them I was an apt pupil.”

The Violet Queen poured out a tiny glass of syrupy liquid and passed it to Hyacinth. She accepted it, her fingers quivering slightly within her pale silk gloves. “Necessity is an efficient schoolmistress,” said the older woman. “That is how we all come to this business, I’m afraid. I am willing to let the past stay in the past, but it is best to put our cards on the table right away.”

“You hold the trump,” Hyacinth said, setting aside the glass. She wasn’t about to trust anything she hadn’t seen the Violet Queen drink first.

“Correction. I hold all the cards, and it’s best you don’t forget that fact, young lady.” The Violet Queen’s eyes turned flinty. “You are operating a business within my area of influence. I was fortunate enough to wed a member of the Steam Council, but I ruled the pleasure houses of London long before I was wife or widow. And my heart is still in that work, even if I no longer give the clients my personal time.”

“Duly noted, madam.” In other words, the clients prefer lamb to mutton .

“I require regular reports on your customers. Who they are and what they say. Which way their preferences run. And I require the usual portion of your earnings for a house of your standing. Do you understand?”

I understand extortion when I see it . “Of course, madam. And do you say this to every new procuress in London?” Which I know you do not, or I would have heard about it .

“Only those worth my time. As I said, you are turning a profit, and I want half.”

“What?” Hyacinth was on her feet.

“Manners, Miss Asterley-Henderson,” chided the Violet Queen, clearly enjoying herself. “You might have tupped your way out of prison before you ever reached Her Majesty’s Laboratories, but I can send you back with a single telegram. The laboratories might have burned, but there are those who will find a place for you in their private facilities nonetheless. I just have to ask. I have that kind of power. You do not.”

Hyacinth was speechless with fury, heat rushing to her face. She jerked in a breath, but nothing would come out.

“You’re a pretty thing, and you know it. Just think what vivisection would do to your looks. And I doubt even you would enjoy the experience. Perhaps you will have to work your household a little harder to meet my terms, but I am sure keeping your skin will make the long hours worthwhile.”

“Very well,” Hyacinth spat, but she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to. The only thing she was certain of was that it wasn’t to the Violet Queen’s terms. She’d clawed her way up from ruin to run her own house, and could see no reason why she should bow to this woman. And she was Violet Asterley-Henderson, no matter what people called her just because this old baggage had usurped her real name.

“Good. I will send inspectors to ensure you comply. Sit down, Miss Asterley-Henderson.”