Dancing in Red (a Wear Black novella) by Heather Hiestand, Eilis Flynn Read Free Book Online

was carrying a fresh case of the Irish flu the way respectable
housewives turned Nellie away when she asked for work. Eventually, after weeks
of searching, she found work as a temporary barmaid, taking the place of the
owner’s daughter, who was recovering from having given birth. They would only
give Nellie a bed in the stables, but it was warm and comfortable enough,
though it smelled terrible. At night, she rubbed her stomach and wondered if
the child inside would be a boy or a girl. She had felt the first flutterings
of the baby a week before and the sensations had grown to be a daily occurrence
since, until today. She worked for the babe, she ate for the babe. Right now,
everything she did was for the babe.
    “You are so silent, wee one,” she whispered.
“Sleeping, are you? Shall I sing you a lullaby?”
    She crooned quietly to the babe inside
her, shifting on the straw to find a comfortable place to sleep. Her back had
been hurting all day, the pain increasing by the hour.
    “Nellie, girl, where are you?”
    The rough voice of the pub owner woke
her from a tired doze some time later. She blinked and sat up, rubbing her
back.
    “Mr. Pelham?” she asked, pulling a
candle toward her and lighting it.
    “If you want to earn a few shillings,
girl, there’s a man here asking for a companion for the evening. I won’t judge
if you need the money. He’s in the room above the kitchen.” Pelham stepped
toward her, until she could see his kind old face in the small circle of light.
    Nellie blinked, her thoughts warring
between a need for money and the desire to not be any more of a whore than she
already had been. She stood to ask some questions about the man, but as she did
so, she felt a wave of intense pain grip her belly, then she saw the dark stain
in the straw, felt the thick dampness of her petticoats, smelled the coppery
death of blood.
    His face went pale as she swayed. “I’d
best send my wife to you,” he said, turning around and hurrying away.
    She sat down on the dirty straw, knowing
that there was no point in pretending she could do anything but wait for the
pains to go away.
    It took a day, but by the time she had
recovered from the worst of the bleeding, she knew she’d never feel her baby’s
movements again. She’d seen similar things growing up in Dublin, and knew that
the body of the babe, such as it was, would be expelled from her in due time.
    She cried for a few minutes. That was
all she permitted herself.
    Two weeks passed, and she remained dizzy
and muzzy-brained through it all. The Pelhams’ daughter returned to work and
while they allowed Nellie to remain in the stables on her straw bed, they no
longer had any work for her.
    “I found you a position,” Mrs. Pelham
said one day soon after that, coming up behind Nellie as she attempted to wash
old bloodstains out of her red shawl.
    The Pelhams’ daughter had admired the
fine work and Nellie was contemplating giving it to her in thanks for all the
family had done if she could only soak out the stains.
    “A position?” she asked, brightening.
    “Yes. I know you have to work. You will
grow weak from the lack of food. We cannot keep you here on charity any
longer.”
    “You’ve done enough, for which I thank
you,” Nellie agreed. If only she’d had family nearby, or Ecton had been less
slimy. At least her connection to the prince had been severed forever. When she
had her looks back she’d rise again and one day he would see her name on a
billboard on The Strand at some fancy theater. She could do it.
    “Do you want to know about the
position?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Nellie said, trying to
concentrate. Her mind had been wandering of late.
    “It’s basically the work of a tweeny. I
know you are too old for that, but at least it is work, which is saying
something for an Irish girl. It’s at a new hotel by Victoria Station. You’ll
light the fires in the rooms and help with the cleaning. It’s respectable
work.”
    “Thank you,