Sam was set to argue, that was obvious. His eyebrows rose comically on his high forehead and his lips began to part.
But he was laughing. He clung on to the rail and hooted, loud and briefly, across the dark water.
"By God, you're mad as well," he said. "And to hell with all of it I'm coming with you!"
Their only hope was Mistress Margery, with perhaps a sweetener in cash. On the way to London they discussed their strategy, but it added up, inevitably, to that alone. Will feared they might have been marked down by his behaviour, and excluded at the door, but Sam hooted at that possibility. Dr. Marigold's, he said, existed to take cash, and lack of it was the sole excluder. In any way, some nights there was real mayhem, heads broken, once or twice a death by steel or ball; this was London, after all. A young man in the maidens' parlour was not much cause for panic, as he lived and breathed.
At the door, this assessment seemed exact. It was opened, they were whisked inside as easily as the night before, and as indifferently. No time for meat and ogling, however they bustled through the throng, across the court, and to the entrance to the 'shagging suite', as Samuel crudely dubbed it. He said it with a sideways glance at William; his intention, nobly, to bring down the flights of fancy about a maid who was a whore. William was too full to notice, naturally. At the doorway as they entered, his mouth was dry, his heart was thumping. Mistress Margery, he feared, would give him short shrift, then throw him out.
Indeed, she did act somewhat surprised to see him, then somewhat cold. But Sam moved immediately to touch her palm with something, and addressed her in a voice of mocking earnestness, its mockery not for her but his companion, who looked a chastened booby in his turn.
"Mistress Putnam," he began, 'my Margery. Can you forgive me that I bring you such a country stick? Look at him. Young, and innocent, and ashamed. We've rowed up all the way from Woolwich to bring his apology, and could even lose our ship for it. And all because he saw a naked woman!"
"Lord," said Mrs. Putnam. "It was not so bad a thing he done. Young man, remind me of your name, I have forgot it. You set them shrieking in the kitchen, but you will not hang for it, I think."
"Will's his name; Midshipman Bentley. He had a shock, that's all. He thought he knew the girl, then he got into confusion."
Margery's eyes twinkled with amusement.
"With her face wrapped up in covers and her body stark as dawn. Well, not so innocent as he do look and you do claim then, Mister Sam!"
"He was drunk was at the top and bottom of it, and mad with lust," said Sam. "Still is, Marge, that's the funny thing. With your permission well, he wants another shot!"
The woman had a frank and honest face, but her eyes narrowed and hardened. She was seated as usual at her table in the corridor, and she touched her glass of gin, then took a sip of it.
"Well," she said, at length. "On account you've got the cash, where's the objection?"
"Oh, we will settle," Sam said. "I han't never let you down, have I? The thing is, though '
Mrs. Putnam interrupted.
"Does he speak at all? The thing is though is what, though? Why does it need the two of you to row from Woolwich and him to stand there like a dummy just to pay a shilling to dote on a maiden's quim? The rate is up, by the way. It's the demand."
"And how," said Samuel, 'if he wished to converse with her alone?"
William felt a complete fool. The woman stared at him, so he lifted his face and met her eyes, as steadily as he could.
"Young man, I told you yesterday. She is not a whore. She is not for solo intercourse. She is exceeding beautiful, and Dr. Marigold has designs for her."
Sam challenged William with a look. They had agreed beforehand that if Cecily had not revealed a connection they would keep it secret. But they both knew what would happen now.
"She is not beautiful," said William. "She has had to sell her teeth, like the maiden in the parlour, Cecily. We met them in the country. We gave them some little aid. I must speak with her."
"You must?" There was a challenge in the woman's voice, but it was not brazen, she was not angry. She somehow seemed amused.
"I would wish it most sincerely," said Will. "I will pay the rate, of course."
The woman chuckled.
"Oh, you would." She took more gin, as if for thinking time. "But what rate? There are four places in there, for the looking at her beauty. Each place is reserved for twenty minutes, let us say, although that is my discretion. How long did you expect to talk to her? If indeed she does not call me to have you beaten out, if indeed she will give you audience in the first place? At twelve pence the ogle, twenty minutes would tally something tidy, while the hour would ease your purse of plenty more. And how do you propose to talk to her? Through the spy-trap? Clothed or unclothed, for a shilling naked buys you silence only; for speaking we would have to set another rate. Oh come, sir, look not so down! You said you must speak, that was your words!"
"Margery!" put in Samuel, as if to a playful child. "He wants to talk, not do the deed; by Christ, she has no teeth! Look, the fellow's foolish, but humour him for my sake. Your talk of Marigold and great things is most impressive, but we know the truth of it. Close up the peep-show for a while, and let Will talk with her in a little room, or sit at her feet and worship, if he will! But covered up, for Christ's sake, or I'll never get him back on ship, will I? Yes, we must back on board tonight, betimes, so no harm can come of this, can it? He is not about to spirit her on board with us. He will be assuaged, and you will make five shillings. God, woman, there will be no oglers yet, it is too early. Come on! Five shillings, and a small gratuity in hand."
"Twenty."
"Six."
"Ten. That is the last, Mister Sam. Do not test me into anger."
"Seven shillings and sixpence, and a whore thrown in for me. I am not a worshipper of gums."
Mrs. Putnam gave in with a smile, and Samuel kissed her on the cheek. She pushed him off, and stood.
"Annette is in the small back room," she said. "She likes you, foolish girl. Now come you on, Mister Silence. For God's sake put a smile upon your face, you'll frighten her to death."
Sam waved a hand in salutation.
"Good luck, Will. When I've done my business, I'll see you in the second drinking parlour, Margery will show you where. Hey! That's your passageway! Second door."
But Mrs. Putnam ushered him another way.
"Not tonight," she said. "She has not started yet. Come you to this room."
"Bah, seven shillings!" said Sam, hitting his forehead with his palm. "And the maid is still at leisure!"
"And sixpence," added Mistress Margery. "Mr. Will is that your name? Stand there a moment while I warn the girl. Are you sure you want this? Are you sure it's wise?" Her face softened, she was motherly, as she'd been the night before. "It is only a little punk, you know. There is nothing here for you, I warrant you."
Will made a gesture with his hand, and she turned and went abruptly through a door. He stood there in the dark and quiet passageway, alone and in some kind of turmoil. He had thought that this was necessary, that he and Samuel had some duty to this girl and her companion, but Samuel had chosen the softer option of Annette. His stomach hollowed as he stood and thought it through. Deb naked, and as beautiful as life. Deb with a robbed and ravaged jaw, like Cecily. Deb in the rain, excited and exhausted, soaked to the skin. A runaway, a tinker girl, a prostitute, a drab. Deb a toothless, ruined maid.
Mistress Margery emerged with her face mysterious, unreadable. She gestured at the doorway and Will, gulping, propelled himself through it, no chance to change his mind. The room was dim and the young woman in it had her back to him, although her arms were at her sides, she held no cloth up to her face as Cecily had done. There were two candles in the small room, which was not bright, but her dark curls gleamed. There was a table, and a narrow bed, and in the corner a pisspot, that was empty, underneath a straight-back chair.