Free Willing by Michaela Wright Page A

shot her a glare and disappeared into the back rooms.
    Octavia yanked Constance away from the landing and hissed into her face, her shoulders hunched as though frightened. “You can’t go, Connie. Tell me you won’t go!”
    “If Roger is coming along - I haven’t had any trouble thus far, why would that -”
    “I weren’t lyin! I swear to you, he’s trouble.”
    The driver cleared his throat and the two women glanced over the railing to find the wiry haired man idly waiting by the door, oblivious to them. Still, she felt caught, as though he might hear them besmirching his Master’s name.
    “Roger!”
    Constance heard Berty hollering, then hustling into the bar below. She watched the robust woman slump against a barstool, flustered. “Sorry, love. Still can’t find the fool.”
    Constance felt Octavia squeezing her arm, as though she might anchor her to the spot and replayed the warning of Detective Jenkins in her mind.
    Constance took a deep breath. “Sir, I don’t want to keep you longer than necessary. I’m so sorry, but I will have to decline the invitation.”
    Both the driver and Berty’s faces went slack, but Berty was the one to speak first. “Connie, you don’t want to disappoint the man.”
    She glared at Berty, appalled that she would push her out the door after what the detective said. “I’m sure His Lordship will understand a woman’s preference for chaperone.” Constance turned her attention to Gregory, whose brow was furrowed. “Please accept my apologies, but if my bodyguard is not available, I will not be able to attend this evening.”
    “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind, Miss?”
    Octavia hissed softly at her shoulder, “No. Say no!”
    Constance straightened and smiled, and suddenly, despite the warnings of that morning, felt a strange pang of remorse at refusing an opportunity to see Alisdair. Still, she nodded. “I am sorry you had to come all this way, Gregory. Please send my regards.”
    And with that, Constance turned from the landing, ignoring Berty’s frustrated calls, and walked down the hallway toward her room. Despite the regal air of her actions, her stomach was churning with nerves.
     
    “Well, you’ve cocked it up royally, you have. Had yourself a regular that paid a month’s wages in a day, and now you’ve cut that tie. I understand you weren’t comfortable, but by God – for that kind of money -”
    Berty was in rare form. Normally, Berty wouldn’t speak a single word to Constance for a few days to show her disdain, even go so far as to turn one of Constance’s regulars away, but today she had much to say. She’d waited a few hours, fuming and glaring in silence, but by tea time, she’d barreled up to Constance’s room and was railing from the rafters. Several of the other girls chittered down the hall, listening to Berty’s diatribe. They didn’t know Constance’s crime, but Berty made sure everyone knew she’d committed it. It was mid-evening now and Constance was certainly the talk of the Keg and Barrel - and Roger still hadn’t turned up for his night’s work.
    “I’m sorry, but -”
    “You’re sorry? You’ve never seen the kind of money that man was bringing in. In one bloody night!”
    Constance felt a sudden surge of righteous indignation. “Perhaps I should have. Might’ve motivated me to endanger myself further for your profit.”
    Berty was pacing across the carpet at the foot of Constance’s bed, her hair wild about her head. She’d come to rail at Constance after trying to pull her hair out, it seemed.
    “You little bitch.”
    “There’s a bloody monster killing girls in the street and you’re mad at me for wanting to stay in tonight? Even that detective would -”
    Berty lunged at her, pointing a finger into her face. “Your Lordship might’ve gotten you a nicer room, but I promise you this’ll be the last night you sleep in it.”
    “Wait, you gave me this room because of -”
    “Did you think it was