Magdalene was a little disturbed when Sir Bellamy hardly reacted to the sight of her women, all sitting together near the fire. Letice and Ella were embroidering. Sabina had apparently been singing; her lute was in her lap, her fingers still in position upon it, but she must have stopped as soon as she heard the snick of the latch. Magdalene had hoped that so much beauty of all different types would distract him from her. Not that she planned to allow him access to any of the women without the normal fee—that would be tantamount to admitting they had something to hide—but she would have been more comfortable if he showed more interest and desire.
Ella jumped up as soon as they were in sight, laying aside her embroidery. She did not mind the work and did it reasonably well, if not with the exquisite skill Magdalene had, but she loved her other work much more.
“Have you brought a new friend?” she asked eagerly. “He is very pretty. My name is Ella. I am pretty, too.”
Magdalene heard a faint, strangled sound from Sir Bellamy, but did not turn to look at him. “Go back to your seat, love,” she said to Ella as the girl started forward. “Sir Bellamy is, indeed, a friend, but he has not come here to lie with any of us. He is on the business of the Bishop of Winchester.”
Ella blinked, and her pretty mouth drooped with disappointment, but she obediently went back to her stool and picked up the embroidery. “Does that mean he can never come to bed? Surely when his business is done—”
“Hush, love,” Magdalene said, smiling. One could not help smiling at Ella’s dedication. “That is for Sir Bellamy to decide, and you know we do not urge our friends one way or the other. But I wish to make known to him Letice and Sabina now, so work and be quiet.” She turned to him. “Sir Bellamy, the small, dark woman is Letice; she is mute and cannot greet you. And the woman with the lute is Sabina. Please speak so she will know where to direct her conversation; she is, as I mentioned to you, blind.”
“Blind, mute, and….” Bell swallowed and did not finish his sentence because Ella was looking at him with bright interest and he could not call her an idiot to her face. He turned abruptly to Magdalene. “Why?” he asked. “Do you collect discards?”
“Do my women look like discards?” she snapped angrily. “Each one of them is beautiful, clean, skilled at her work. Discards indeed! I searched long and hard before I found my women.”
That was not really true. Ella had been cast out of a house, bruised and bloody, and had fallen almost at Magdalene’s feet. She was weeping hysterically, totally unable to understand why she had been so treated, repeating over and over that she had done her work well and carefully, that she had not broken anything or stolen anything. Only after she had got the girl home and clean and calmed did Magdalene learn that Ella had been in both the father’s and the son’s beds in that house, that she had thought that the greatest fun, was always eager to return, and never once asked to be compensated. It was, of course, the women of the household who had mistreated her and driven her out.
Letice and Sabina had been chosen more deliberately. Letice had come herself, having heard of Magdalene’s house through the rumor that flew among such places. Because she was mute, the whoremaster for whom she worked had used her for what she knew was dangerous and dishonest work—like placing genuine seals on false documents. Letice did not mind the dishonesty; she was only fearful that she would be thrown to the wolves when the true guilty parties were suspected. Still, she had been resigned until the whoremaster decided she could be given to men who enjoyed hurting women because she could not scream. Then she had fled.
Sabina had been sold to Magdalene by another whoremistress, who complained that she was altogether too popular because her clients were forever leaving without paying. Since she could not name them nor point them out without touching them, it was almost impossible for the whoremistress to wrench the money out of them. That was unimportant to Magdalene, who collected the fee before the client joined his woman or, from many clients, received a weekly or monthly stipend that permitted reasonable access by appointment.
“Apurpose?” Sir Bellamy asked. “You chose them apurpose?”