Read Online Vice by Jane Feather - Free Book Online

longer locked, but on the one occasion she had ventured down to the hall, Mr. Garston had appeared out of nowhere and asked her in tones that brooked no argument to return to her chamber. She had been provided with everything she’d asked for: books, writing and drawing materials. But she was still unmistakably a prisoner in this topsy-turvy establishment that slept all day and awoke at night.
    She would lie abed throughout the night listening to the strains of music from the salons, the bursts of feminine laughter, the sonorous male voices on the stairs, the chink of china and glass. Rich aromas from the kitchens waftedbeneath her door, and she would entertain herself trying to identify the delicacies from which they emanated. Her own fare was the plain and plentiful food she assumed was served in the kitchens, but clearly the clients and the working ladies of the house dined very differently.
    She would doze lightly throughout the night, usually falling deeply asleep at dawn as the door knocker finally ceased its banging and the sounds of merriment faded. As the sky lightened, she would hear voices in the corridor outside, soft and weary women’s voices, the occasional chuckle, and once the sound of heart-wrenching weeping. The weeper had been comforted by a murmur of women, and then Mistress Dennison’s voice had broken into the whisperings. Kindly but firm. Juliana had listened as she’d dispatched the women to their beds and taken the weeper away with her.
    Apart from apprehension, which she fought to keep under control, Juliana’s main complaint was boredom. She was accustomed to an active existence, and by the third day being penned in her chamber was becoming insupportable. She had asked no questions, made no demands for her freedom, stubborn pride insisting that she not give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her dismay. She would show them that she could wait them out, and when they saw she was adamant, then they would release her.
    But on the early afternoon of the fourth day things changed. The little maid appeared in Juliana’s chamber with her arms full of silk and lace.
    “Y’are to dine downstairs, miss,” she said, beaming over the gauzy, colorful armful. “And then be presented in the drawing room.” She opened her arms, and her burdens toppled to the bed. “See what a beautiful gown Mistress Dennison ’as ’ad fashioned for ye.” She shook out the folds of jade-green silk and held it up for Juliana’s inspection.
    “Take it away, Bella,” Juliana instructed. Her heart was jumping in her breast, but she thought her voice sounded reassuringly curt and firm.
    “Eh, miss, I can’t do that.” Bella stopped admiring thegown in her hands and stared at Juliana. “Mistress Dennison ’ad it made up specially for ye. It wasn’t ready till this morning, so ye’ve been kept up ’ere. But now y’are all set.” She turned enthusiastically to the pile of material on the bed. “See … fresh linen, two petticoats, silk stockings, and look at these pretty slippers. Real silver buckles, I’ll lay odds, miss! Mistress Dennison ’as only the best fer ’er girls.” She held out a pair of dainty apple-green silk shoes with high heels.
    Juliana took them in a kind of trance, measuring the heel with her finger. Her feet were unruly enough when they were flat on the ground; what they would get up to in these shoes didn’t bear thinking of.
    She dropped them onto the floor. “Would you inform Mistress Dennison that I have no intention of wearing these clothes or of being presented … or, indeed, of anything at all.”
    Bella looked aghast. “But, miss—”
    “But nothing,” Juliana said brusquely. “Now, deliver my message … and take these harlot’s garments away with you.” She gestured disdainfully to the bed.
    “Oh, no, miss, I dursn’t.” Bella dropped a curtsy and scuttled from the room.
    Juliana sat down on the window seat, ignored her pounding heart, folded her hands in her