Rushed to the Altar Read Online Free PDF Page A

strange business, this matter of selling flesh.
    She made her way up the broad stairs to the wide second-floor landing, and then up a much narrower stair to the attic floor, where she had her own sanctuary, such as it was.
    It was a small chamber high under the eaves with a dormer window looking down onto King Street. It was a maid’s room, furnished simply enough with a cot against one wall, a rickety-legged dresser on which reposed a cracked basin and ewer, and a low chair by a small grate, empty now, but she would have to pay for coal once winter set in, pay for it and haul it up three flights of stairs from the basement coal cellar.
    But by the time winter came, she and Francis would be settled somewhere safe and secluded, far away from the city. Clarissa sat down on the cot to untie her kerchief and kick off her shoes. Really she should have been back on the streets searching for a more salubrious lodging, but her feet ached after her round-trip trek to Ludgate Hill, and for the moment she couldn’t summon up the energy. At least here she was alone and unthreatened, however inappropriate the environment.
    Clarissa had found her present garret just after her arrival in London by responding to an advertisement in one of the pamphlet shops in the Piazza. Of course, with hindsight she should have realized that rooms for rent in Covent Garden were intended for a particular type of lodger, one who was expected to pay her rent on her back. After this morning’s debacle, it seemed she still hadn’t learned the facts of Covent Garden life.
    Mother Griffiths, after her initial astonishment at being applied to by a young woman who was clearly not a prostitute, had laughed heartily and agreed to rent the garret if Clarissa paid the same as the working girlsin the house. Tired and alone in a city that scared her as much as it confused her, Clarissa had been comforted by her landlady’s friendly disposition and accepted the arrangement. But now she knew she couldn’t continue to stay there. She had already had several difficult encounters with stray clients on the stairs, and the prospect so unnerved her that she found it hard to garner the courage to leave her chamber in the evening.
    And now, like some naïve idiot, she had given the impression to a strange man that she was open to any proposition that would be acceptable to any of the usual inhabitants of the bagnios and nunneries lining the Piazza. Well, it had been a narrow escape and another lesson well learned. And she’d lost Luke into the bargain. Although she thought now that it was unlikely his destination in Covent Garden would have revealed anything about Francis’s whereabouts. Luke had had pleasure of some kind in mind; why else visit the Piazza?
    In the morning she would renew her watch on his house and hopefully she would have better luck then. Until then, there was a whole afternoon and evening to get through, listening to the squeals, the bangs, the creaking beds, the occasional cry, footsteps up and down the stairs, all the sounds of a lively brothel at night.
    She lay back on the cot, trying to ignore the fact that she was hungry. Two oysters didn’t go far and she could find it in her to regret missing not only the rest of the oysters but the venison pie and the burgundy. Maybe she should have pretended to listen to the earland at least enjoyed a good meal in return. She closed her eyes.
    Was Francis hungry?
    All desire to sleep vanished and Clarissa sat up abruptly. How could she forget why she was here, even for a second? She was no closer to finding her little brother than she had been a week ago when she’d first arrived. And one thing that was becoming abundantly clear . . . she wasn’t going to find him without help. The city was such a heaving, confusing monster of a place, a maze of twisting lanes and alleys, strange dark courts filled with shadows, and everywhere people, all hurrying, noisy, and rough. Every corner seemed to hide some danger,