Page 25 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘Do you want it to?’ Miriam asked. She tilted her head and gave Jenny a serious look. Miriam’s hair was lustrous and black,simply tied back in its ribbons, and Jenny was so tempted to run her fingers through it. She closed her hand into a fist and withdrew it into her skirt.

‘Sometimes I do,’ Jenny said. ‘When I look at how you live, I’m quite envious.’

‘Of cold-water washes and not knowing where your next meal will come from?’ Miriam asked, grinning. ‘A cold bed with nothing to warm your feet on if you don’t put the brick on the hearth?’

‘Perhaps not that,’ Jenny admitted with a smile. ‘Though my uncle is quite mean when it comes to the coal allowance for heating the water. You should come and meet Uncle Conrad. He would be more interested in your art than your sex.’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ Miriam said. ‘I’ve met a lot of men, and even those within the world of art who claim to be unconventional and free-thinking, don’t welcome women as creators, only as subjects of paintings.’

‘Well, I think it’s very unfair,’ Jenny said.

‘The world is the world,’ Miriam said with a shrug. ‘But yes, it does get lonely. I’ve had friends, but now I’m on my own.’

‘I’d like to be friends with you.’ Jenny blurted the thought out. She hoped that the intense longing for Miriam’s company wasn’t too obvious. She felt little flickers of heat rising to her throat. She didn’t dare go as far as to ask if Miriam would like another roommate, but it was on the tip of her tongue to do so.

Jenny looked around, then turned her head back sharply as Miriam rested her hand lightly on her shoulder.

‘You have the most astonishing contours,’ Miriam breathed. ‘You must let me paint you properly soon.’

Small flames danced in Jenny’s belly. ‘I’d like that. I’d like to come back here.’

Miriam tilted her head to the left and looked into Jenny’s eyes. ‘I am looking for another roommate, if you know of anyone who happens to be looking for a home.’

‘If I hear of anyone, I shall tell you,’ Jenny replied.

Miriam cocked her head. ‘I mean you, Jenny. If you’d like it. If you could manage it.’

Jenny’s stomach flipped over. She stared around the room again. This simplicity was what she aspired to in some ways, but could she really give up her comfortable life and spacious house for subsisting on shop-bought pies, and hanging stockings to dry on the end of the bed?

But to be with Miriam…

Her imagination filled with visions of sharing the room in the boarding house with Miriam. How manysalonswould she need to have before she could afford the rent on a room such as this one? She had no idea how many doses of tincture she’d have to sell, but it was a goal that she’d very much like to achieve.

Chapter Nine

Miss Salisbury’s house looked unassuming from the outside, but stepping over the threshold, Gwen discovered an exotic building that looked as if half the treasures of India had been poured into it. It was also extremely hot with the largest scuttle of coal she had ever seen standing beside a blazing fire that threw out heat like a furnace. The temperature of the parlour was a stark contrast to the sleet that lashed the windows. Already prone to waves of heat crashing over her without warning, Gwen had to resist the urge to unbutton her cuffs and loosen the bow at the neck of her blouse.

Miss Salisbury sat in a high-backed basket chair, hands folded in her lap as Gwen and Miss Rosewood gazed openly around. She wore an odd, embroidered garment– halfway between a smoking jacket and a sultan’s robe– over the top of a violet, velvet day dress.

‘I collected a lot of these myself on my travels as a younger woman,’ Miss Salisbury said, inclining her head to the display of red and black vases with figures partaking in some of the most depraved acts that Gwen had ever seen.

‘I am a big collector. I collect all sorts of interesting things, you know. And interesting people.’

She gave Miss Rosewood a penetrating look, then turned her gaze to Gwen, who sat back on her sofa, rigid with nerves, not in the least part caused by the tiger skin on the floor, which stared at her malevolently with black glass eyes. With Miss Salisbury’s talk of collecting, Gwen had a horrible vision of both her and Miss Rosewood pinned down like butterflies on a page. She suppressed her shiver, reminding herself that impressing Miss Salisbury was vital, and that the interesting people she collected might in turn be interested in the product Gwen and Miss Rosewood had come here to sell.

‘I propose that you give me a demonstration of your remarkable concoction and I will see for myself what it is like,’ Miss Salisbury said, with almost no preamble. ‘I assume you have brought it with you.’

‘Of course,’ Gwen murmured. She dipped into her handbag and held out the small bottle. Miss Salisbury reached out and plucked it from her fingers then held it up to the light.

‘You haven’t used much since we last spoke,’ she observed, passing it back.

Gwen hid her surprise, but couldn’t resist looking at Miss Rosewood, who raised her brows. Miss Salisbury hadn’t had much of a glimpse of it at the time. Her eyesight and memory were clearly acute.

‘No, I haven’t felt the need. I have been sleeping better.’

Miss Salisbury ticked a finger at Gwen. ‘Oh, come now, Mrs Walters. You and I both know that this is used not for aiding sleep but for provoking pleasure. Don’t try to pretend otherwise.’

‘It’s a sleeping draught,’ Gwen protested, though even she could hear the doubt in her voice. Under Miss Salisbury’s gimlet glare, she dropped her head. ‘Or I should say it started as asleeping draught. The side effects were unexpected but quite fascinating.’