"My teeth," said Deborah. As if in sympathy they hurt, inside her mouth. Milady's desperation came to her vividly for an instant, that she would risk all this to try and keep that love, or that awful, snake-like man at least. "Oh God," she said. "Mr. Dennett."
"Nay," said Dennett, 'but he's a single-minded man, and a ruthless one himself. He hinted at a potion, although he did not come straight out with it, he left the work to me. I know his type too well, don't I? He'd take the liquid, kill the wife, and I would end up hanged, so I played blind and dumb. I said He stopped, arrested by her face. "What?" he asked.
"A potion?" Deborah was aghast. "You mean he'd poison her?"
He smiled, and carried on.
"I did not ask, I'm telling you. I played it like a mute. I said I thought that there would be no point in medication, if that was what he meant. I said I thought she'd die, she was too far gone for saving." His eyes narrowed. "I should think I might be right, at that. I told him he should talk to her, say you were still too weak, and neither I nor he could kill you just to get your teeth out of your head. I told him to persuade her I could help her with some soothing stuff which would cure her gums, and I would share it with her to show it wasn't poison. Coloured water as we call it in the mystery, but it would buy some time she might expire in with luck. A sixpence gets two pints."
He fell to silence, watching. A small hope stirred in her, but not significant. God, even if this justice was the sort of man who took up pretty doxies and married them, he'd kill her when she lost her looks! Deb's head had begun to ache.
"He'll try," said Dennett, 'but she'll have none of it, I'd wager all I have on that. There is another way that came to me. Fiske might be open to a bribe, or one of the lesser men, more like. We could fly from here in the extra time I've talked us into. You are fair and know the ropes and have a ready wit. I thought together we might make a living, pretty good. Partners, not pimp and whore nor anything like that, although there are worse ways if we select good customers. I've known whores of twenty years and more who've never parted thigh! What say you?"
Come live with me and be my love, thought Deb, the old line from the song. She knew men married doxies rich men like Wimbarton, poor crooked men like this mountebank and it was possible to make a life that way. Not today though, not like this, not with either of this pretty pair. It occurred to her that, as life was so hard and men so stupid for her body, she should aim her sights far higher. Maybe Marigold did have a scheme for her in reality and not in jest. For the moment, even her viewing room and cushion seemed worth pining after.
"Dr. Marigold said she started, then broke off. "We could go there, I suppose, to start off from. A safe place in London. Oh no, Jeremiah knows it, I suppose. When you came for me."
"I came alone," said Dennett. "One does not throw away good secrets on such as him." He did not voice his own dislike and fear of London, though. Or say he would hardly entrust her to another pimp to put her in safekeeping! Enough to get her out of this.
"What say you then?" he asked her brusquely. "If you are agreeable I must go about it quickly, for there will not be much time. If she agrees to wait she won't wait long. Well, come on. Do we run?"
You are a spirit, thought Deborah. You will use me as a common whore till I no longer suit, then you will sell me to the Colonies as a slave or servant. And the alternative is to stay here for my teeth to be ripped out, then die of the infection or end up a drab without good looks. For even if Milady did die it would be too late, he'd hardly trade one gum hag for another. She nodded her assent.
"Well, good!" said Dennett, in delight. "Now, I do not say that I can bring it off, but by God I'll try! First of all I'll go speak to the master and see how he fares with keeping her at bay. I have a little sleeping draught would do the trick most excellent, if only she would take it! Then I'll try to ease some cash about, into some useful palms."
He crossed to the door and rapped on it. Before they heard a step he cocked his head at her. His foxy face was sly.
"One thing, Deb," he said. "I'll try to stop it but I fear it is inevitable. Before the teeth come out because he still thinks they will the master will have your body, he will go to any lengths. If he comes through that doorway, with me or without, that is his intention. For God's sake, for the sake of everything, do not resist."
Deb saw it all. You've sold me, haven't you, she thought. The bolt was drawn back noisily, on the outside. You've sold me, he will have me, then you'll take my teeth. She turned away as the mountebank went out.
It was not the master who came through the door an hour later though, it was Amelia Wimbarton. Deb had heard the noises on the stairway, quiet noises, and had stiffened as she lay upon the bed. Before she'd stood, and smoothed her shift down, she had forced her mind to say to her once more, and to mean it, that she would endure this thing, this raping by the master, then if the mountebank did betray her she would fight them to the death rather than lose her teeth, she would rend and tear and battle until they would have to beat her beyond saving. As the door had opened she had bitten her lips, and braced herself.
The mistress, who had come in so quietly, must have gained her entry through force of personality or through cash. She closed the door behind her, and her eyes were wide and staring, with enormous pupils, wild. She had taken off her veil, and her face was still impossible to look at. Deb's eyes lit on her eyes, slid downwards till she caught the nose, and careered upwards as she gasped, involuntarily. And the stench. From across the room, immediate, horrifying. Deb might have had a flood of sympathy, but she knew she was to die.
The pistol, small and bright, appeared from underneath a drapery at her right side. Deb gasped once more, almost choking as her throat went tight with fear. She raised her hands in front of her, fingers crooked.
"No," she said. "I '
"Be mine, that's what he said," said Mistress Wimbarton. Her voice was thick and slurry, but the thought incisive, like a knife. "Be mine and live happy ever after, happily and rich. We will marry for love, he said, and hang the Doubting Thomases. I would do anything to please him, which is why I bought your teeth."
The thoughts were incisive, but they were completely mad. The smell was overwhelming Deborah, she was becoming faint. She tried to speak, to plead, but nothing came.
"You'll be better dead," said Mistress Wimbarton. "The pain is awful, to lose your teeth, and what comes afterward is worse. I agreed to go on pleasing him, do you understand, for he loves me and your teeth would please him in my head but now it's you he wants, it's you. He's on his way here, with that filthy man. One to hold you, one to ... oh Jesus, Jesus, I was beautiful."
She walked towards Deb, and as she did so Dennett came through the door, and Wimbarton. Dennett had a cudgel in his hand, and a rope, but for a moment both men stood amazed. As the barrel of the pistol rose towards her, Deb made a small and breathy noise, not a scream but saturated in fear, and Wimbarton let out a squawk, propelling the mountebank across the room with an almighty shove. Dennett, yelling, struck out wildly with the club, the end of which caught Milady in her awful face as she tried to turn. As she went down the gun went off with a flash that closed Deb's eyes, and a shattering, ringing bang. Falling in her turn, she saw Dennett fold up like a clasp, as the master ran into the thick, blue, acrid smoke that bade fair to fill the room. Outside, women screaming, on the stair.
Oh God, she thought, Dennett is dead. They came to have me, then to tie me down. Oh God, my teeth are saved.