Page 8 of A Sonata for the Fiery Lady
“How are you this evening, My Lord?” the woman asked as she looked over Oliver from head to toe. It was as though she was undressing him with her eyes. And dressed as he was, he could understand why this woman would mistake him for someone of higher society.
“I am good, thank you. I’m here to see an old friend of mine, Mr Edward Quinn,” Oliver said, deciding to take on a new persona in hopes of discovering something that would help him understand why his father was killed.
The lady’s eyes grew large as she placed a hand over her mouth and another over Oliver’s as he leaned up against the counter. “I’m so sorry, my lord, to tell you that our beloved Mr Quinn was killed last night. I did so dearly love that man. Always a gentleman despite his lowly status. He was never drunk and always gave the best tips,” the woman said, seeming to be truly heartbroken. Oliver appeared sad for her, which wasn’t a hard thing to do.
“I am truly sorry to hear that. Would you show me in and allow me to perhaps meet some of his acquaintances? I would like to honour this man tonight,” Oliver said.
“Of course, my lord, right this way,” the woman said as she came around the corner and took his arm, pulling back the black curtain that separated the foyer and the opened street from the rest of the gaming hell.
Oliver stepped into the fray as gentlemen sat around everywhere. They were smoking, laughing, yelling, and everyone seemed to have a drink in hand. Liquor was being served by attractive young women that wore short dresses, revealing their stocking legs underneath. Their cleavage was easily noticeable, causing Oliver to blush as he tried to look away.
“See something you like?” the woman asked, giving him a wink.
“Indeed, my dear. But perhaps another time,” Oliver replied, trying to remain composed. He didn’t want to appear as though he’d never been to a gaming hell before. And though he knew what happened in places like this, he’d never been tempted before to enter such a place.
“Have a seat here at this card table. It was always Mr Quinn’s favourite. I’ll send one of the girls by to get your drink order,” the woman said, pulling out a chair for him at a card table being occupied by three other gentlemen.
“So, you knew Edward, did you?” a man said as Oliver took to the seat. Oliver regarded the older man, very thin but finely dressed. A small glass of brandy sat in front of him as he dealt the cards for the table.
“Yes. I was familiar with Mr Quinn’s work with Mr Mathews. I always went to Mr Quinn for my footwear and considered him a good acquaintance. I came by to visit him, knowing he frequented this establishment, and was surprised to hear that he’d been killed,” Oliver said as he accepted the cards from the man.
“Dreadful business,” another man said, a portly man that appeared rather short. But Oliver knew not to take the man lightly. He wore many rings on his fingers, and as the man smiled as he looked at his cards, Oliver noticed several gold teeth in his mouth. Oliver knew there were two types of wealthy men – those born into wealth and dressed accordingly, and those who had happened upon wealth and wanted more, flaunting it any chance they got. Oliver could tell this shorter man was someone not accustomed to wealth and therefore showed it off willingly.
“It is hard to believe that our good friend, Mr Quinn, died only last night. And here we are playing cards once more,” the third man said. He had a very long beard and sounded like he had a foreign accent. “He will truly be missed,” he added.
“Dreadfully so,” Oliver answered honestly. A barmaid came and took his order as he slipped her a few coins. For a while, Oliver played the card game, losing some and other times winning. He always kept his bid low to ensure he’d still have enough to pay the funeral costs tomorrow.
“So, who do you think killed the man?” Oliver spoke up after he’d finished half his brandy, feeling a little brave.
The man dealing the cards simply shrugged his shoulders as he let out a sigh. The bearded man grunted, but the man with the rings simply smiled. “I heard that Edward wasn’t who he seemed to be, that in fact he had a very large fortune that he was hiding from everyone,” the ringed man said as he laid down his cards, distraught, losing once again. He cursed several times before finishing his drink.
“You shouldn’t bet so high, Oliver,” the bearded man said with a laugh, causing Oliver to perk up at the mention of his own name. The ring man simply shrugged as he pulled two more notes from his pocket and set them on the table.
“I still have more to play with,” he said with a gold-toothed smile.
“I only hope that no matter where Edward’s soul went to rest that he is resting easily now. I think I remember Edward saying he had a son. I truly feel for the boy,” the dealer said as they started another round. Oliver only nodded his head, silently thankful for the man’s words.
After a while, Oliver left the table, thanking the gentlemen for a pleasant evening. He’d even won a good bit of money, allowing him to feel hopeful that he could pay next month’s rent on his own and still provide for himself. Without his father’s income as well, things would be rather tight. He even wondered if perhaps he should look into having a roommate to share the costs.
Though it was late at night, Oliver didn’t feel like going home. He didn’t want to return to an empty apartment where he was sure to be overcome with his grief. He didn’t know what else to do, so he wandered the streets with no particular place in mind. He simply thought about his father, and sometimes he thought back to the image of Miss Melisa.
~*~
As Melisa woke the next morning, surrounded by all that was familiar to her, she somehow felt different. The panic she’d felt yesterday morning was still in her chest, as though every day from now on would fill her with dread about the future. She wanted to cry then, thinking it was an awful feeling, but knew that crying wouldn’t solve her problems.
When Melisa got out of bed, she felt determined to have some sort of control over her life, being filled with the need to get out of the house for a bit. She didn’t even pull the servants’ cord as she took care of her needs and found her own walking gown. For the first time in her entire life, Melisa dressed herself, finding the task much more difficult when she didn’t have two or three other people helping her. As she brushed her own hair, she didn’t feel confident with doing it herself, so she simply tucked it behind her ears, hoping it would do for a morning walk.
Melisa found it awkward to pull on her own leather boots, tying the laces slowly because she wasn’t used to the task. But if she were to leave the house before her parents woke and before the servants could learn she was awake, she needed to be able to do this herself. And when she was done with dressing herself, Melisa viewed herself in the looking glass, feeling accomplished for having done the task alone.
With her parasol and reticule in hand, Melisa left her room, shutting the bedchamber door behind her so the servants would think that she was still sleeping. She walked carefully down the hallway, making sure not to make a sound as she took each step down the stairs slowly. Reaching the front door, she peered into the house, able to hear Cook in the kitchen. She no doubt was readying breakfast for the family.
Melisa experienced another first in her life as she opened the front door on her own, pulling it open as she quickly stepped outside and closed it again. She prayed that no one would notice that the front door was unlocked so she could slip back in later in the morning. But for now, Melisa felt freer than she had in a long time, having readied for the day herself and left the house without having to tell a soul or having Mr Moses open the door for her.
Melisa walked leisurely down the street, the morning fog still thick upon town as though she was walking through a cloud. She smiled to herself as she made her way towards the local park, thinking that it felt wonderful to enjoy the area when no one was yet awake to see her. She didn’t have to worry about being in an awkward social situation since she wasn’t being escorted. Melisa could simply be herself as she enjoyed the early morning air.
A little way down the street, Melisa heard the sound of footfall, assuming it was a servant returning to their master’s house to start the early morning assignments. She didn’t pay any attention to the person till they neared, the fog parting to reveal their features. Melisa was shocked as she spotted Mr Quinn, walking idly down the street with his eyes downcast. She was even more surprised to see that he was still dressed in the fine clothes from last night.
“Good morning, Mr Quinn,” she said as they neared one another on the street. It was like living a dream since she’d spent a good part of her night dreaming of the man in the most intimate ways. She blushed as their eyes locked, Mr Quinn looking up from the walkway. He seemed startled as his eyes darted quickly around the neighbourhood as though he hadn’t realized where he was.
