Page 42 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“Julia, be careful! These are from Poppy’s,” admonished Annabella. The blue-purple mark to her eye gave her a hardened demeanour.
Poppy’s was incredibly popular with anyone who could afford it. The bakery sold all kinds of pastries and cakes, and it set the trend for the entire kingdom. They likely served Julia from the back entrance—after all they couldn’t have the riff-raff going through the front entrance. To protect their reputation, they couldn’t let their upstanding patrons know that a pleasure house bought their baked goods forparticularclients from them. The scandal would likely ruin their business.
Mirabella picked up one of the errant buns that’d rolled along the table while Annabella was pointing in the overfilled basket, counting the cakes and pastries. The contents revealed the freshly baked breaded pastries for everyone to walk past, with looks of longing at the basket.
A double layered, round smooth pink frosted cake sat the centre of the basket, nestled by various sized sweet pastries with sugared flour dusting them, while other pastries had a mixture of coloured glazing, a few with a red glaze shined back at her, and white icing laced over buns.
“Calvin coming tonight then?” Iris asked conversationally, as if the smell of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries weren’t making their mouths water.
“What I wouldn’t give for a client like Calvin,” Lauressa sighed wistfully, looking at the shiny glazing.
“Surely you don’t need a basketful. You won’t miss one?” Calla said, reaching a hand towards the stuffed basket. “Ouch!” she exclaimed as Annabella slapped her hand.
“Hands off! They’re forourclient.”
The Bellas’ enviable curves were no secret within The Ladies Grace. Eleanor and many ladies at The Ladies Grace could have similar curves if they were being fed better. As it was, they all appeared thin as a rake, looking underfed if they skipped a meal, something Eleanor was certain she had done multiple times.
Eleanor took advantage of the Bellas’ all too satisfied looks at their basket of goods and brushed past the table’s edge. Before anyone could see, Eleanor swiped her hand at the forgotten palm-sized sugared roll and poured herself a glass of water by the kitchen sink.
“We’ll make sure the old bat knows if anyone’s taken anything,” Annabella called over her shoulder as the Bellas made their way to the bathing house.
“Why couldn’t they have had baps again,” Lauressa grumbled.
“We couldn’t get the smell out of the house for days,” Iris chided, referring to the last time the Bellas’ client, Calvin, had been at the pleasure house. Eleanor’s stomach winced in memory; Julia had been instructed to warm the baps in the oven, resulting in The Ladies Grace smelling like a bakery. They’d opened all the windows overnight in a futile attempt to dissipate the smell, but it’d been a bitter night, which had driven them to double up in their beds for a semblance of warmth. Even after the freezing night, the cloying sweetness of the fresh dough had hung heavy in the air for days afterwards, a tormentthat only intensified their shared misery. It was a certain cruel torture: the rich, savoury scent of the food mocked their hunger, a painful reminder of their empty stomachs.
Lauressa and Calla mumbled a unified “no” as they parted for the bathing house.
“Lia, more steam!” a shrill voice called from the small hallway beyond the kitchen.
Julia groaned as she wiped some of the lingering perspiration from her forehead.
“Come on Lia. Finish your jobs, then Nica will be ready for your lessons before tonight,” Iris coaxed, referring to Veronica’s lessons.
Veronica either took pity on the others or was bored, Eleanor wasn’t certain, but she had ended up teaching everyone in the house how to read and write before they had to prepare for the nightshift clients. It’d started with Julia and had progressed to the entire house. Madam Grace had encouraged the education, thinking it’d add some worth to them. Eleanor hoped for Veronica’s sake the madam had discounted Veronica’s debt for the service.
With a silent sight, Eleanor placed the cup in the sink, the clinking sound surprisingly loud in the quiet kitchen, before walking past Julia and surreptitiously slipping the small, sugared roll into the girl’s skirt pocket with a heavy hand, so she felt the weight of it. Not waiting for Julia's response to the petty theft, Eleanor quickly slipped through the archway towards the bathhouse, the scent of brine and sweat heavy in the air.
Chapter Seventeen
A Heavier Hand
“Eww!” Mirabella shrieked as Eleanor entered the bathing house.
It was a small dimly lit building that was attached to The Ladies Grace, and Madam Grace only allowed the well-paying patrons to enter upon their visits. Some of them brought their clients in here, but the madam strictly forbade any sexual activity in the water. Eleanor only ever used the bathing house when Madam Grace sporadically allowed it. She wasn’t sure if it was the madam’s intention to use it as either a reward or to make sure they all washed properly. Although there was a sharedbathing room on their floor, it served well for a quick wash in the sink or a dip in the freezing tub that they all used and changed once or twice a day. She’d learnt the hard way to never go into the metal tub before bed.
Eleanor shuddered at the thought.
This coveted space offered them some relaxation and time to care for themselves, irrespective of Madam Grace’s motives. The bathing house was minimal, featuring exposed stonework, and there were many tiny cut circles in the domed ceiling to allow the steam to filter out. The only decoration was the coloured tiles that lined the lip of the round pool, above steps that rimmed the pool’s edge. This allowed everyone to sit as deep into the pool as they wanted, while some sat on the stone floor to dangle their legs into the warm water. The pool’s murky centre, and Cookie and Lucy floating in the middle of the warm pool, made it impossible to see if the bottom had patterned tiles. With everyone present for the communal bathing, the space felt even smaller.
As with breakfast, they sat in their little clusters that they’d carved out for themselves. For once, Veronica wasn’t reading, not wanting to ruin her books with the humid water and steam.
“Who? Who did this?” Mirabella accused in a high-pitched voice that was edged with her barely contained indignation. Even though Mirabella was waving a sky-blue glass bottle in her hand to show everyone what she was referring to, she still cradled it delicately, as if it was an egg.
Eleanor tried to evade whatever this current drama was, and navigated her way into the sweltering room, by using the lanterns that were hanging in the corners and dotted around the floor. They allowed a portion of light in an otherwise dark room.
As the bottle passed hands to Annabella’s equally careful grasp, Eleanor caught a better look at the cause of the outrage. It didn’t look like the clear glass bottles from an apothecary. Itlooked fragile, with a glass stopper that screamed “expensive” rather than a cork one.
“That’s disgusting,” Annabella confirmed. Her nose wrinkled from whatever she’d smelled from the vial.
