“Can I help you gentlemen?” the servant asked in a voice that was softened but not emasculated. It was clear to me that this man did not wish to convince anyone he was a woman. No, for all the world he wanted to appear as a man dressed as a woman, and it was a damnably curious and uneasy thing.
Elias cleared his throat. “Yes, we seek a man who uses the name Teaser.”
“What’s your business with him, then?” the man asked, his voice losing some of its softness. I also observed that his accent was of the lower sort, a kind of Hockley in the Hole accent if I placed it right, and that surprised me. I had always believed sodomy to be the crime of the decadently wealthy, but here was a man of the lower orders. I wondered if he was indeed sodomitically inclined or if this was merely a position he took out of necessity. And then a darker thought crossed my mind, that this low fellow was held against his will. I told myself I would remain vigilant against signs of such horrors.
I stepped forward. “Our business with him is our own. Pray inform him he has visitors, and we shall answer for the rest.”
“I’m afraid I cannot do that, sir. Perhaps you would like to leave your card, and Mr. Teaser—if there is such a person—will call upon you if he so desires.”
I observed that the servant had not denied the presence of the man at first, but now he brought into question his very existence. “He shall not know who we are, but the business is of the greatest urgency. I mean no harm to him or your—your associates, but I must speak with him at once.” I handed the servant my card.
“This ain’t your home, and you don’t command here. I’ll leave your card as you wish or no, but be off with you.”
Were he a mere serving man I should have, at this point in our impasse, pushed past him. The truth was I had no desire to touch a being of his stamp, so I continued to depend upon words. “I’ll not be off. You may let us in of your own volition, or you may attempt to stop us. The choice is yours, sir.”
“Call me madam, if you please,” he said.
“I care not what you call yourself, but stand aside.”
At that moment another figure appeared at the door, this one a woman in body as well as in spirit. She was a plump woman of some advanced years, though with large blue eyes that radiated an indulgent kindness. Her clothes were simple yet well-made, and she looked nothing so much as a respectable and generous matron. “Be off with ye. I’ll brook no more church palaver from hypocrites such as you. Go tell it to the devil. You’ve more in common with him than you have with us.”
The rant left me puzzled for a moment as to the best way to proceed. Elias, fortunately, ever the diplomat, bowed slightly, and led the way.
“Madam, as we’ve tried to explain to your servant, we mean no harm, but we have the most urgent business with Mr. Teaser. Allow me to assure you that you have very likely never had two gentlemen upon your stoop less likely to engage in church palaver. My associate is a Hebrew and I am a libertine—one inclined toward women, you understand.”
This woman now peered at the card I had handed the servant and then looked up at me. “You’re Benjamin Weaver, the thieftaker.”
Despite my ill ease, I offered a bow.
“The man you ask about ain’t done nothing. I wouldn’t think you sunk so low as to be seeking to earn your coin by prosecuting mollies.”
“You misunderstand me,” I assured her. “My business with the gentleman is to obtain information about an acquaintance of his. I have no interest in bothering you or your friends.”
“You swear it?” she asked.
“You have my word of honor. I want only to inquire of him a few significant matters, and then I shall be gone.”
“Very well,” she said. “Come in, then. We can’t have the door open all night, can we?”
This woman, I had no doubt, was the infamous Mother Clap, and she now led us through her home with a sense of wary proprietorship. The place had the cast of a fine home from the previous century, but all was now disheveled and tattered. The building smelled of mold and dust, and I had no doubt that, were I to stamp upon the rug, a cloud of filth should arise.
We wound our way through the house, following our Virgil as she took us through surprisingly tasteful halls and well-appointed chambers. The people inhabiting these spaces, however, were another matter entirely. We came into a large room in which a ball of sorts was under way. Tables had been set up for revelers to sit and drink and talk, and three fiddlers played while six or seven couples crossed an old warped wooden floor. Some two dozen or so men stood on the edges of the floor, engaged in conversation. I observed that, among the dancers, each couple contained one ordinary-looking man and one man much like the servant who had opened the door, dressed unconvincingly as a woman.
Mother Clap led us to a parlor in the back of the house, where a fire burned pleasingly. She invited us to sit and poured us both a glass of port from a decanter, though I observed that she took none herself.
“I’ve sent Mary to fetch Teaser. He might be indisposed, however.”
I shuddered to think what might indispose him. I believe Mother Clap must have read my expression, because she gazed at me rather unkindly. “You do not approve of us here, Mr. Weaver?”
“It is not for me to approve or disapprove,” I answered, “but you must acknowledge that the men who spend their time here engage in most unnatural acts.”
“Aye, it is unnatural. It is unnatural too for a man to see clearly at night, but that does not prevent you from lighting your way with a candle or lantern, does it?”
“But is it not so,” Elias chimed in, with an eagerness I knew represented more the pleasure of exercising his intellect than because he felt passion for the issue, “that the holy writings forbid sodomy? They do not forbid illumination.”
Mother Clap gave Elias an appraising look. “They do, indeed, forbid sodomy. And they also forbid fornication with the ladies, do they not, Mr. Libertine? I wonder, my good sir, if you are as quick to raise the objections of the holy scriptures on that score as well.”
“I am not,” he agreed.
“And did not our Savior,” she asked me, “command that we raise up the powerless and wretched, take in and give comfort to those whom the powerful and privileged shun?”
“You must direct all inquiries regarding the Savior to Mr. Gordon,” I said.
Elias inclined his head in a seated bow. “I believe you have the best of us, madam. We are creatures shaped by the morals of our society. It may well be, as you propose, that our society’s objections are the arbitrary products of our time and place and nothing more.”
“One may be inclined to be the product of his time and place,” she said, “but is not the virtuous man obligated to make the effort to be more?”
“You most certainly have the right of it,” I said, by way of surrender, for though I could not master my feelings on the subject, I knew well that her words were just. As there appeared to be nothing more she could add to illuminate her feelings, and as we inquired no more, we sat now in silence, listening to the crackle of the fire, until, some minutes later, the door opened and a rather ordinary-looking fellow, plainly dressed like a merchant, entered the room. He was perhaps seven or eight and thirty, with an even, boyish face, marred by both freckles and irregular blotching of the skin of the sort more generally associated with much younger men.