Free Wilde, Jennifer by Love's Tender Fury

him. She sighed, wearing a bored, resigned
expression.
    "We
'ave time for one more trick, luv," he said, leering.
    "Yeah,
sure." She sighed again and let him lead her away.
    I
began to rearrange my things in the shabby valise Angie had been guarding. We had
been permitted to bring a few personal belongings with us, and before we
departed, Millie, the maid, had risked the wrath of Lord Mallory to bring me
some of the clothes I had left behind at the house. The girl had picked out the
most elaborate, expensive gowns I had, garments that would be of little or no
use to me in America. Once on board, I had traded them for more suitable
things, exchanging one of them for a sewing kit, as well. Thanks to Jack, I had
been able to have the new things laundered, and I had spent hours altering them
to fit me. They were a motley collection, true, but they would serve me much
better than silks or bronze taffeta.
    I
had just closed the valise when the locksmith came down to put the shackles on
us. The guards shouted commands, and I lined up with the other women to have
the iron bracelets with chain suspended between them put on my wrists. Angie
was the last in line, an aggravated expression on her face as she rubbed her
backside. When my turn came, I patiently submitted to the locksmith. These
shackles weren't nearly so heavy nor so tight as those I had worn in the cell
on Bow Street, and I was relieved to find our ankles weren't to be shackled as
well. All the same, it was humiliating, a pointed reminder that we were criminals,
the lowest scum in the eyes of society.
    Properly
shackled, we waited. Two hours passed, three, and we sat in silence in our
bunks, even Angie's ordinarily high spirits dampened. The air was fetid, the
floors covered with filth. It was a wonder any of us had come through it all
alive. Several of the women were deathly ill. All, with the exception of Angie
and me, were pale, drawn, battered, hair hanging over faces in limp locks. Who
would want to buy any of them? Two or three of them would certainly not recover
from their illness, and none of the others looked capable of even the lightest
work—much less Like candidates for a brothel.
    I
could tell from the motion of the ship that we were coming into the harbor.
Sounds of great activity could be heard above. Finally there was a loud,
scraping noise of wood against wood. The great ship rocked mightily, seemed to
shudder all over, then grew still. Blackstone had gone up on deck to await
orders, and the other two guards prowled about with menacing expressions, whips
in hand. Two or three women were weeping silently. The others sat on their
bunks sunk in lethargy. A huge brown rat scurried across the floor, but no one
paid any attention to it. We had all grown accustomed to the rodents that
thrived below deck. Angie gave an impatient sigh and reached up to run a hand
through her blond hair. The chain suspended between her wrists clanked loudly.
    "You'd
think th' bleedin' sods'd 'urry up an' let us outta this 'ell 'ole! It's 'ot as
blue blazes down 'ere. 'Ey, Barnes," she called, "When're we gettin'
outta 'ere?"
    "Pipe
down, slut!" he bellowed.
    "That's
gratitude for you," she told me. "For weeks 'e's been stickin' it in
me. Now that we've landed, I guess th' romance is over. Oh, well," she
added, "what can a girl expect?"
    It
was almost an hour before Blackstone returned. We were lined up and marched up
the stairs and onto deck. After the dimness below, the sunlight seemed
blinding. Across the railing I could see stacks of boxes and cargo piled up on
the dock and, beyond that, a row of grayish-pink brick buildings with slate
roofs. There was much activity on shore. The whole town, it seemed, had come to
watch the felons disembark. Jack Reed was nowhere in sight. I was glad. We had
said our goodbyes, and I didn't want him to see me shackled like this.
    Angie
was in line behind me. "I wonder where we are," she said.
    "Jack
said we'd be landing in Carolina," I replied,