the_comfortable_courtesan

Phoebe Wilson was just putting on her hat, preliminary to leaving the artist’s studio, when came up to her, his arms draped with shirts, Harris, Raoul de Clérault’s man, desiring a favour of Mrs Wilson.

Harris had ever shown himself very civil-mannered – accorded her the honorary Mrs of one that, black and young as she was, held the responsible post of housekeeper, and had done so even before this startling change of circumstance that meant she was now in an aristocratic household.

Why, certainly, Mr Harris, what might I do for you?

Harris, a small fellow already somewhat grizzled and with the air of the native-born Cockney, sighed and said, she would know that his master kept no other servants –

Phoebe understood this well enough – the de Clérault family were not particularly well-off themselves, but had cut off their son when he had, they considered demeaned himself in pursuing the profession of artist, while Raoul had not yet achieved that success that would guarantee a comfortable income. She nodded.

– and here I am, of the greatest use to him over matters of grinding paint and preparing canvas and making frames –

One entirely sees that you are quite essential to him, said Phoebe, and also have a nice hand in such matters as preparing him a breakfast or grilling a chop to his supper &C, fear he would forget to eat did you not do so.

Harris shuffled his feet and said, he did what he could in the service of art: but what he did not have was any skills in the valet line. And here was these shirts come back from laundry, and looking 'em over, he sees that there is wear beginning to show, and fraying, and – he sighed – until we see some payment for certain commissions there is no prospect of new linen –

Phoebe took one of the shirts and examined it. Why, 'tis none so bad, but sure, not fit for a gentleman to wear in company! Would not require a deal of labour to patch up in quite the properest fashion. Do you put 'em in my basket so that I may carry 'em home and work upon 'em when I have leisure.

Oh, Mrs Wilson, that is above and beyond kind in you!

Poo, said Phoebe, ‘tis the simplest kind of stitchery one learns in girlhood.

She dared say she could have told him that there were seamstresses that would have been glad of the work: but over these weeks, nay, it was now months, she had been modeling for Raoul de Clérault, she had come to see that he was a fine artist but not one that was making much money with his art, or not yet. He was most insistent upon paying her for her services – even though she was in a well-remunerated post already! – so she tried to make some repayment by bringing with her on her visits a supply of Euphemia’s fine cooking, under pretext of leftovers – will go to waste otherwise.

She swung the basket onto her arm and said, would bring 'em back next time she came.

Harris waxed positive effusive as she left.

'Twas no great journey from the artist quarter in Kensington back to Madame – Her Ladyship’s – pretty little establishment in Mayfair t’other side of the Park. And after several hours holding poses, why, Phoebe was glad of the opportunity to stretch her legs!

A fine tall young woman, dressed very respectable, in these parts was unlike to be troubled, at this bustling time o’day.

Sure these days she was very respectable indeed.

O, had been in good places, as these things went – well paid, the prospect of generous vails, and well-treated – for the fact was, crack courtesans knew 'twas prudent to treat their household well, so that they did not give ear to bribes from aspirants wishing advancement to their employers’ favours, or to the beguilements of scandal-monging fellows wanting to know who was in or out. From under-housemaid at Madame Zelide’s, to housemaid to Madame Clorinda, and then advanced to housekeeper. Had been those hinted that she could quite seek a place elsewhere –

For all knew what a very proper household Madame’s was! Ever in good practices.

Now, most surprising, who could ever have supposed? – well, there had long been those tapped their noses and looked towards Lord Raxdell, and that he had greatly favoured the lovely Clorinda since before his elevation, and showed no disposition towards any of the young ladies on the Marriage Market – but the household knew the truth of the matter there –

But instead of marrying her himself, had advanced the suit of his friend, the ailing Marquess of Bexbury, that had been living abroad this age, returned to England to settle his affairs and die on his native soil, and required a wife that would take care of his inheritance, the heir that succeeded to the title and the entailed property being a loathsome despicable creature.

So it had been special license, and a quiet wedding in the private chapel at Raxdell House, and a deal of lawyerly business, and hugger-mugger plotting against Her new Ladyship for fear she went with child –

Quite like unto one of those tales Her Ladyship secretly wrote herself!

And now, here they were, Phoebe, and her brother Hector that was major-domo, and Prue and Euphemia and Timothy from among their connexion all part of the household, Seraphine having married and gone be cook to Lord Raxdell, and Uncle Ajax come to be groom and drive Her Ladyship’s fine carriage –

No, said Her Ladyship, she would keep her good loyal people about her that had been with her through tribulations when Hector enquired whether there would be changes; but mayhap there should be some matter of livery suited to this new station. Unless they wished to find other places – would of course provide characters –

One could not tell, whilst Her Ladyship was in mourning, whether things would be different, though sure during that state matters were very much not in their wonted course! A sad lack of the usual lively society coming into the house, even was it now so that certain ladies came leave cards and call upon Her Ladyship. For she had been presented at Court under the patronage of that very exacting person, Lady Jane Beaufoyle, and went about a little in the philanthropic set about her.

One might quite reasonable feel somewhat unsettled –

But here Phoebe was, walking into the mews, and nearly home, and the basket coming about to weigh a little heavy on her arm –

Hulloa, Mrs Phoebe! popped out of the backyard of the next-door house, Mrs Esther, housekeeper to the Averys, that had ever behaved very proper towards Madame – Her Ladyship – not gone about to make offensive complaints, for sure had ever been well-conducted except for that one time when that horrid fellow Evenden had come drunkenly ranting outside the door – nor become obsequious encroaching upon this sudden elevation.

Oh, Mrs Phoebe, I have been looking out for you, because, such a disaster! Here is the mistress goes away to visit her mother, that is at the seaside for her health, and so the master takes a notion to invite some of his cronies to a bachelor dinner, and that fool of a new butler lays the table with one of the fine good tablecloths from the mistress’s wedding-chest, and what do they do but go spill wine upon it, without the sense to sprinkle salt –

Phoebe tutted. Not our good practices, she thought, and said, why, give it to her, and she would see what she might do.

You have such a remarkable hand at getting stains out, quite like magic –

Not magic, thought Phoebe, 'tis almost what one might consider science. She had greatly wished – before they had sounded out the murky depths of his character – that she might discourse somewhat with Evenden, that was very noted for his studies in chymistry, and had gone so far, a time or two, to ask Mr MacDonald for advice. That had lent her books, and showed exceeding civil in the business.

Well, I shall do what I can, and hope has not set beyond repair.

The challenge was, she thought, to lift the stain and leave the cloth so one could not tell it had ever been there. She fancied she had the means to do that – had had similar problems a time or two after Madame’s soirées – had been able to experiment – went about to collect scraps of stained linen and broken silver and pieces of wood to try matters on –

Took her leave of Mrs Esther, and entered in their own gate, to find Ajax a-grooming of the carriage-horses and most unwonted conversational. Here was come call upon Her Ladyship the present Lady Bexbury, that was Captain Penkarding’s lady, quite the finest horse-doctor he ever came across – he should like to know how the Captain did –

Well! thought Phoebe, that horrid creature that is the present Marquess does have a living wife! And him courting young heiresses – this should cook his goose for him!

Brother Hector came out of the kitchen-door, and took the basket from her: scowled, and said, did not Mr de C escort her home?

Poo, said Phoebe, had someone call about a commission, would not take him away from that. And here it is broad daylight, mid-afternoon, a bustling time, am hardly going in any peril.

They went into the below-stairs sitting-room, and Phoebe dropped her coins into the Am I Not A Man And A Brother? Wedgewood bowl, for they were comfortable enough that they might put a little towards the good cause.

Euphemia came out of the kitchen a-drying of her hands, offering that Phoebe might care for tea, or on such a warm afternoon, mayhap lemonade? Had some already made up –

That would come grateful, Phoebe conceded, afore she went consider over this stained tablecloth of Mrs Avery’s – whereupon they both shook their heads over the state it was in, and then went on to tell her of Her Ladyship’s visitor. A fine tall horsey lady – acquainted with Uncle Ajax – married, cried Euphemia, to that horrid sneaking fellow, 'tis hard to imagine –

Hector shook his head and said, among that station matches were made up very like by parents – and often the lady was very young and had not seen much of the world –

So discoursing of all this, 'twas some while afore Phoebe could go into her stillroom and make the initial preparations for tackling the tablecloth, and then take the shirts into her own bedchamber to work on there. For somehow she did not fancy to stitch on 'em in the common sitting-room – would cause comment –

She smoothed a hand over a sleeve grown ragged at the edges. It was good linen, but one could see, not properly cared for. She bit her lip, with a sudden image of the body that wore that shirt – tall, fair-haired, diffident of stance – o, it was foolish in her, given her station and his, that she had a desire to look after him. Sure Harris was devoted, but quite admitted that he lacked those capacities that would make Raoul de Clérault really comfortable. Ensure that he ate regular proper meals – not just chops or toasted cheese -

O, he was ever kind and civil – one might even say, they came about to something like conversable friendship, over this while – but –

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the_comfortable_courtesan

I didn't have any specific Christmas treat this year, but I had this fragment that I wrote some while ago and never continued with - so have polished it up and added a few bits and offer it for your seasonal pleasure.