![]() Her forefinger stroked the wooden oval, so similar to the. The swan’s long neck lying at the apex of the woman’s open legs. She traced the pattern absently, still unable to get the image of the painting out of her mind. The smooth, polished wood under her fingers had been carved in an oval with folds in the middle. The plush red carpet seemed safe to study. Was there nowhere in the room without a lewd image? Violet gripped the end of the sofa. Wax had dripped onto the figures, drops hanging from the nipples. The fireplace on her right held two candlesticks, shaped like naked women. Her face heated and she had to look somewhere else, anywhere else but at that painting. Her womanly parts were exposed and a swan lay with its beak pressed between her thighs. A naked woman lay on a chaise, her legs spread. A classical-style painting in a large gilt frame across from her caught her interest. Sitting rigidly, she stared at her hands clenched in her lap, then shook herself. Let the woman arrive swiftly to get this over with. She strode farther into the room and perched on the red cushioned sofa. The pain meant she was alive and by God she intended to stay that way. She hadn’t fainted yet, though her empty stomach had tied itself in knots. Violet let out the breath she’d been holding. “Wait here.” The girl turned on her heel and left. ![]() Taking a firm grip on herself, she followed the girl down a shadowy hallway until she motioned her into an equally dim reception room. Still, she couldn’t risk waiting until later. The last thing she wanted was to antagonize her future employer. But she won’t be happy being woke up this early, you can bet your dippers on that.” Come on.” She led Violet out of the foyer. “Close the door before we freeze to death, jingle-brains. These clothes wouldn’t fetch a shilling in a secondhand shop now. Her possessions long gone, her wardrobe-reduced to two dresses and a well-worn cloak-had been sold, leaving her with only the dress she stood up in. She’d come down fast in the months since her grandmother’s death. The appraisal stung, but was probably fair. In one practiced glance, the girl took in her appearance, from what used to be her second-best hat to the rumpled and stained deep-purple dress to her scuffed black boots, and sniffed. “I need to talk to her, please.” Her heart gave a sickening lurch. ![]() “I’ve come to see Madame Vestry.” Violet focused on the girl’s narrowed eyes. Warily, her gaze shifted from Willie to Violet. “What the hell’s going on in here Willie?” She wiped her hands on her apron, streaked with flour and grease. She hadn’t eaten for days.īlond hair straggling from under a mobcap, a girl, maybe fourteen, rushed into the room. Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. He staggered back and she fell into a narrow back foyer with a row of coat hooks and the devastating yeasty smell of baking bread. Despite her small stature, she was stronger. “I need to see her now.” She raised her voice, and threw her weight against the rough boards. If she didn’t do this now, she wouldn’t have the courage, or the strength, to come back. The boy kept shoving, squeezing her foot until she winced in pain, but she gritted her teeth, put her shoulder to the door and pushed back. Come back later today.” He started to push the door closed but Violet rammed her boot between it and the jamb. But the ache in her belly had forced her here as soon as the sun had risen. Such an establishment would obviously keep late hours. “I would like to speak with Madame Vestry, please.” Perhaps she should have waited until later in the morning. ![]() The door opened a crack, and a lad of about twelve stuck his head out. Beyond the weathered board fence of the house next door a dog barked, but no one stirred. Teeth clenched to stop their chattering, she mounted the short three steps of the back stoop, straightened her shoulders, and rapped three times on the dull gray door of the silvery clapboard house. Urn:isbn:1101116145 Republisher_date 20120225093016 Republisher_operator Scandate 20120225004214 Scanner in the brisk wind cutting straight through her thin gown, Violet Carlton trudged across the small dirt-packed backyard, littered with tufts of dead grass and scattered brown and red leaves. OL5720418W Page-progression lr Page_number_confidence 94.92 Pages 262 Pdf_module_version 0.0.20 Ppi 514 Related-external-id urn:isbn:1101117850 Access-restricted-item true Addeddate 22:15:02 Boxid IA172801 Boxid_2 CH114501 Camera Canon EOS 5D Mark II City New York Donor
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