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“Take this withering ball sack out!” Nancy had surprised even herself when she said it to Lady Isabella’s servants, hardly even regarding Blayne as they dragged him from the room like an animal carcass. A sense of overwhelming bravado soon followed and she felt like she could do anything. She turned and looked at Isabella, wondering what else she could do to help.
Then Isabella kissed her.
Nancy’s stomach did a backflip. No one had kissed her in a long time… a very long time. She, Nancy Birch, wouldn’t allow it. She had kissed Margaret in her prison cell, but that was completely different. That was unrequited; that was a goodbye, a goodbye to something that never would have been. This was something new; it was a hello to all sorts of possibilities, wonderful and absolutely terrifying at the same time.
It threw her off guard completely. When Isabella pulled away, Nancy couldn’t bring herself to look up, knowing that the other woman was looking at her.
“Thank you!” Isabella sounded unbelievably genuine.
“Oh…” One little sound came out but it wasn’t right. That wasn’t what Nancy meant to say. That wasn’t it at all. That was embarrassing and awkward. Why did words fail her at this crucial moment? Nancy felt her cheeks begin to burn red and something in her mind instructed her to flee. She found herself turning quickly on her heel and leaving through the front door without so much as a backwards glance.
Nancy walked the streets following her boots and cursing under her breath. She kept her eyes low, watching her feet and legs somehow propelling her along even though she felt hot and dizzy and like she might faint. Faint?! Like some rich well-to-do woman? The only rich woman she knew was Isabella and she didn’t exactly seem the type to faint because of a kiss. One kiss had turned her into a blithering idiot who couldn’t even speak normal words anymore and she didn’t like it one bit.
“Fucking “oh"? What the devil is wrong with you, Nance? That’s all you say when a rich lady kisses you?” She muttered to herself, absolutely irate with her own reaction. How dare Isabella kiss her in the first place? “Should have fucking hit her as well as her stinking brother.” The cobbles turned to grass beneath her well-worn boots and she came to an abrupt stop, realising where she was.
Why had her boots brought here here? This wasn’t fair.
“Charlotte.” She stared at the silent grave, wishing Charlotte Wells would appear - living - from behind a tree and that the events of the previous weeks were just a bad dream.
“I…I…” But where to begin?
“I done something terrible, Charlotte. I killed Isaac. I thought he killed you so I killed him. Then I let your Ma take the blame. She left for America and I didn’t even say goodbye to her, Charlotte. She should have let me run away after you died. None of this would have happened if I’d gone. But it ain’t her fault. She tried to help me. It weren’t even him what done it.” Her voice cracked, remembering earlier that day when Emily Lacey had told her the painful truth: Hal had murdered Charlotte, not Isaac.
Nancy thought about leaving the graveyard, having made her confession, but then an awful thought struck her. Was that really the only terrible thing she’d done since Charlotte’s murder? Her guilt over Isaac and the way she had left things with Maggie wasn’t why she was here at all. She’d just kissed Lady Isabella Fitzwilliam. She knew full well Charlotte had spent many a night in Isabella’s bed and had not charged a penny for her time.
“Did you love her Charlotte? You body’s still warm and I’m jumping right in your place. What kind of evil am I, Charlotte? I didn’t know she would do that…kiss me… I didn’t encourage her. I don’t want to be seen by anyone.”
But was that really true? Nancy and Isabella had certainly struck up a friendship recently, and Nancy hadn’t exactly shied away from it. Perhaps because the opportunity had seldom presented itself, or perhaps because she came from the wrong side of Soho for Lady Isabella but Nancy hadn’t consciously considered the prospect of a romantic friendship with Isabella. Why would Isabella be interested in her? After all, Isabella had bedded Charlotte Wells, one of London’s most sought-after harlots. What could she possibly want or need from someone like Nancy?
She racked her brains trying to consider if she had missed some sort of sign. She had long-supposed that Isabella had imprinted on her like a duckling, but that was surely because Nancy was fierce and loyal and could hold her own, not because she was a prospect.
The idea of romance filled Nancy with terror. Of course she’d had fantasies (who didn’t?). Most of Nancy’s involved she and Margaret running away with the children to France (why France, she didn’t know, perhaps she’d read about it in a story) and living happily ever after in some run down but ever-so-quaint chateau with no culls, but that was never going to actually happen. How does it happen in reality? Nancy supposed she didn’t know much about real life romance, but something about Isabella’s stolen kiss made her want to find out.
Her thoughts dwelled on her own behaviour. Recently, she’d behaved like a pathetic, nervous child every time she was in Isabella’s presence. Isabella had pretended not to notice, but perhaps she’d picked up on something unconscious from Nancy. Nancy certainly thought the wealthy lady beautiful, and the fact that she’d just saved her baby nephew from the clutches of his evil uncle like some sort of fairy godmother was nothing short of endearing. There was a sadness in Isabella too, something Nancy couldn’t put her finger on but felt as though she recognised. They were both broken.
“I ain’t never kissed anyone who wanted me to kiss them, Charlotte. Not until her. Today. Lady Isabella.” Nancy had said it before she realised what it meant. A wave of sadness came over her because she knew it was true. For a moment she was glad that Charlotte wasn’t here to hear that confession and see the warm tears that were flowing freely from her eyes.
That kiss was… it was like an awakening… like taking laudanum for the first time… intoxicating, exciting, terrible, dangerous… wonderful. But was it worth the betrayal of Charlotte’s memory? Worth betraying her love for Maggie?
“Charlotte, I need to sort my head out. And you’re no help in the ground. What would you say if you was here?” But Charlotte didn’t answer. Charlotte would never answer again. Nancy couldn’t help thinking about a conversation they had after they thought Maggie had kissed the rope. Charlotte had enquired whether Nancy had found her love. Charlotte cared about Nancy, cared if she found someone. What if Isabella was someone? It certainly appeared to have better innings than carrying a torch for Maggie for all those years - for one thing, it appeared to be reciprocated.
Anyway, Maggie’s gone now. She never wanted ya. Nancy thought. Isabella is here and she does.
“I hope I do right by you, Charlotte.”
———
Nancy’s boots eventually returned her to Greek Street but she was still confused and still quite annoyed at Isabella for making her confront her feelings when she was still so vulnerable. She made her way to the kitchen and sat heavily down at the table, reaching for the gin bottle and not even bothering to remove her hat. Fanny was rocking little Kitty to sleep and gestured to Nancy to pour her one too.
“What’s troubling you, Nancy?” asked Fanny sweetly.
“Don’t you worry about me, Fan. Long, strange day is all.” Nancy downed the little glass of gin in one and poured another. “In fact, I might turn in with my friend here.” She gestured at the gin bottle. “I need to sleep and fix this broken head of mine.”
“Nancy? I know I could never replace Maggie… y’know… she was your childhood friend… but you do know you can tell me anything… don’t you?” Nancy gave Fanny a half-smile and a nod. She liked Fanny a lot, and hoped one day to be firm friends with her, but she couldn’t talk about her complex feelings tonight.
“Fanny, you’re too kind to me. But I’ve got to sort this problem out on my own. Thank you. I don’t know what I ever done to deserve such loyal people in my life.”
“So there is a problem?” Fanny probed, furrowing her brow as she looked at Nancy, whose eyes darted towards the door. Fanny smiled, sensing Nancy’s growing uneasiness. “Just say the word and I’ll help.”
“Goodnight Fanny. Get that little’n down and then you get some proper sleep.” Nancy rose and patted Fanny’s arm gently. She really wasn’t in the mood for a heart to heart. Where would she even begin?
Grabbing the bottle and glass, Nancy ascended the stairs. She laughed sadly as she realised the last time she had stayed in this room had been after she was flogged. Will and Maggie had shown her such kindness that day and she had pushed them away, preferring to wallow in her own self-pity alone. Just like she always had done.
“Fucking idiot.” Nancy poured herself another gin, and another. Her head was beginning to get fuzzy and she reclined on the bed, sipping another glass of gin before finally removing her boots and hat. One more gin, just one. She could feel her eyelids getting heavy, but she knew she needed to think.
What would she say to Isabella the next time they met? Nothing? Something? Maybe she could talk about the weather and pretend nothing had ever happened and it would all go back to how it had been a week ago. Or maybe she should grab Isabella and kiss her like her life depended on it. One more glass of gin, just one more gin.
She would have to decide upon what to do - what she wanted - soon. Only one more gin. Not now. Nancy yawned and pulled the blanket over herself. She would think about the Isabella problem soon. After sleep.
———
The door clicked open and Isabella, illuminated by candlelight, was entering the small bedroom. She swiftly approached the side of the bed and ran her hand along the bedsheets over Nancy’s thigh. Leaning down, she kissed Nancy firmly on the lips, and Nancy returned it eagerly, not wanting a repeat of her earlier flustering. She seized the moment and beckoned Isabella into her bed.
As Isabella gracefully clambered in, Nancy caught sight of another woman in the doorway. It was Charlotte. She was pale and didn’t appear to be breathing, but Nancy could see she was crying. Isabella began kissing Nancy’s neck, playfully nipping at her earlobes, and Nancy felt herself go weak. But she couldn’t stop looking at Charlotte, whose tears were freely flowing down her cheeks.
“Charlotte?” But Charlotte didn’t respond. She just stared sadly at Nancy and Isabella.
Nancy felt her heart implode with crushing guilt and she tried to bat Isabella away but she wouldn’t stop kissing her. Her hands began wandering, exploring Nancy's chest, becoming more and more persistent.
Charlotte walked slowly to the side of Nancy’s bed, where Isabella was now straddling Nancy, pinning her to the mattress. Nancy felt a wave of panic filling her body and she tried to stop Isabella’s ministrations but nothing seemed to work. Charlotte was staring right at them as she raised one hand and pointed her index right at Nancy’s face and let out a powerful, primal scream.
———
When Nancy awoke she was face down in the pillow, and her head felt like it was about to explode. She wasn’t quite sure if that was from the gin or the sound of Charlotte screaming, which was still ringing in her ears. It was morning and the sky was a vivid shade of red and orange. She could hear neighbours emptying their bedpans out of the windows. She sat up in bed, drawing her knees up to her chin and hugging them. The dream had been so strange and vivid.
“Guilty as charged,” she said to the empty room. “Charlotte would hate you for what you done.” She would go to the St James house today and tell Isabella that she wouldn’t be around anymore. She had dealt with Blayne, the baby was safe, and she’d even tried to avenge Charlotte’s murder - however misguided that was - there was no more to do.
“Except the girl.” What was her name? Sophia? Isabella’s daughter, or ward, or something. She had married a servant and run away. Isabella was convinced Blayne was behind it all. Nancy knew she should help. Fine. Then she would leave Lady Isabella to her own devices and never speak her name again.
“Nancy!” Fanny was calling her.
“What?” Her voice was quiet and hoarse from the alcohol. She cleared her throat and bellowed. “What is it Fanny?”
“Can you watch Kitty a while? I need to buy milk - there’s none left and the girls are complaining.”
“Can’t you take her with you? I’m not well.” She heard Fanny stomping up the stairs and the door was thrown wide. Fanny rolled her eyes at Nancy, who was still huddled in the bed, casting a dark frown at the half-empty gin bottle on the floor.
“You can’t say you’re not well if it’s self-inflicted, Nance. You’ve been all over the place since you returned yesterday - what’s going on?” Nancy grimaced. She knew she was going to have to talk this through with someone who could speak back, not just Charlotte’s grave. She took a deep breath.
“Fanny…? What would you do when a bloke takes a shine to you?”
“Ask him to pay me.” Fanny chuckled. “In seriousness, depends if I like him back. Is there a particular bloke you’re talking about Nancy?” The way Fanny said bloke suggested she didn’t think there was a bloke at all.
“What have you heard?” Nancy asked sharply, fixing Fanny with a hard stare.
“I haven’t heard anything! I just didn’t think of you as someone… someone who… who…” Fanny trailed off, trying not to dig herself further into a hole.
“Someone who blokes take a fancy to?” Nancy offered, with a wry smile.
“No!” Fanny said passionately. “No… No. They do… don’t they? I mean… I don’t know what you got up to in your work - and I won’t ask, not if you don’t want me to - but I saw plenty of blokes coming and going when we lived near your place.”
“Hah! None of them took a fancy to me. They was scared of me.” It was true. Most of the culls Nancy serviced were terrified of her. Nancy smiled to herself at the idea that one of those pathetic men might be interested in her. “Do you really think I’d be interested in one of those wet saps, Fanny?” Fanny laughed.
“I suppose not, Nance. So you never really took any of them seriously…?” Fanny said slowly, as Nancy nodded. “But this person…you do take them seriously?” Nancy nodded again, fixing her eyes on the gin bottle on the floor near Fanny’s feet. “Nancy, I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve seen the way Lady Isabella looks at you.” Nancy’s cheeks flushed and she turned away completely. “It is her we’re talking about, isn’t it? Have you fallen for her?”
Nancy didn’t say anything at first, giving Fanny the most minuscule nod. After a long while, Nancy spoke.
“No one’s ever looked twice at me, Fanny. I don’t want to be noticed and I’ve done a lot to avoid attention. But she sees me… I mean… she really sees me. And she ain’t afraid to speak her mind. On all matters.” Nancy finally looked up at Fanny. “It terrifies me.” After another long pause Nancy said quietly “don’t ya think it’s unnatural, Fanny?”
“Unnatural? I’m a fucking harlot, Nance! I’ve seen some strange things in my time but there’s nothing unnatural about desire. Even women have desires. Even… women who scare their culls half to death.” Fanny looked at Nancy and smiled slightly.
“Being noticed by a good, caring person doesn’t have to be a bad thing, Nancy,” Fanny said soothingly. “She isn’t like those culls downstairs.”
“But what about Charlotte? Fanny, I’m guilty of so many terrible things, but how can I betray Charlotte? She and Isabella were…”
“Oh Nancy. You’re not that naive are you?” Fanny frowned and looked at Nancy sympathetically. “Last I heard, Charlotte was tupping Isaac Pincher as well as Lady Isabella. I don’t think her heart was Lady Isabella’s… not just Lady Isabella’s anyway. I don’t think her heart was anyone’s, not really. She was a harlot through and through. You deserve to be happy Nance… after all that’s happened.”
Fanny was right. Charlotte had been no one’s. She’d as good as said it to Nancy herself. She just hoped it wasn’t too late to patch things up with Lady Isabella after her rather abrupt exit from the situation yesterday.
———————-
When Isabella eventually turned up, Nancy immediately turned into a buffoon again. Fanny looked on sympathetically as Nancy proceeded to pour tea all over the table and even offered to clean it up, smiling wryly to herself at how steadfast Nancy Birch could become so flustered over one woman.
When Isabella began speaking, Nancy could feel her heart beating against her chest and was genuinely shocked that no one else seemed able to hear it, because the thumping sound was all that filled her ears. She strained to hear what Isabella was saying over the sound of her own heartbeat. Isabella had come about the girl. Sophia.
Of course Nancy offered to go with her.
When they were finally alone in the carriage together, Nancy made up her mind that by the end of the journey she would have apologised for leaving and told Isabella that she wanted them to continue to see each other even after Sophia was rescued.
But Isabella was the one to speak first.
“I’m sorry if I offended you.” Nancy felt her mouth go dry. She scrambled in her head to find the correct response but it was difficult. Her thoughts seemed to rise and fall through her mind like mayflies, disappearing as quickly as they appeared. Isabella thought she was offended! Isabella was trying to patch things up, to salvage their friendship. This wasn’t what Nancy wanted… not another platonic friendship. It was probably only a few seconds before Nancy spoke, but the silence was becoming deafening.
“You didn’t.” It was all she could manage. An olive branch to let Isabella know it was all more than fine. Was it enough? Would Isabella understand? You couldn’t offend me even if you tried and certainly not with a kiss as tender as that. Why hadn’t she said that?
“It was an expression of deep gratitude.” What the fuck did that mean? Why was she making excuses for herself? It wasn’t an expression of gratitude, it was more than that! Wasn’t it?
This time Nancy didn’t look away from Isabella. They locked eyes and gazed at each other. A hundred unspoken things danced between them. Isabella seemed content, and Nancy prayed she understood.
There were so many things Nancy wanted to say, so many things she wanted to do. She thought about simply reaching out and taking Lady Isabella’s gloved hand in her own but it felt so awkward and knowing Nancy’s luck it would just end up being clumsy and embarrassing. She was just about to speak when Isabella chimed in.
“This is the place.” Missed it. The moment’s already gone.
Maybe we should talk some more later over tea? Go on, say it now, say it quick Nance! But Isabella was already stepping out of the carriage. Perhaps their conversation was too ambiguous for either of them to ever make the first move.
Nancy certainly hoped not. All she had was hope that this would turn out right in the end.