Ophelia

Elizabeth entered the backroom of the brothel and was greeted by many women who were changing and preparing for their next client.

"It's been so long, I wondered if you've forgotten about us." The woman in red fanned herself with pouty eyes.

"How could I forget my favorite flower?" Eliza outstretched her hand and allowed the woman to raise it to her ruby red lips.

"Ah! No fair. Rosie is trying to curry favor with Mother!" A younger woman with golden hair stood from her booth with puffed cheeks.

"You're being biased again!" Another girl wrapped in a loose robe had heard of Eliza's arrival and rushed out of the washroom.

"You will hold that tongue!" Rosie pointed her fan in the direction of the girl who was still soaking wet, and she reluctantly returned to the washroom while mumbling to herself.

Eliza walked further into the room and allowed the many girls to overwhelm her with affection. She was still nervous around men and sexual advances, but her approach to women was far different. Even though, aside from monetary motivation, she didn't do much to garner so much love.

"I love all the flowers in my garden, am I not allowed to jest?" Eliza was naturally spitting out these frivolous words and casually exchanged cheek kisses with the many women who were partly dressed. Anyone who knew Eliza in her normal life would have fainted at such a sight. She would have as well just over a year ago.

As a woman with many assets and properties without a man to, 'protect her', she needed support and safety. But most of all, she needed a source of information. Nothing is more valuable than information when it came to conducting business.

She couldn't trust the local guilds because of the possibility they may be working for Lord James. After a bit of brainstorming, she came to the realization that nothing gets more secrets out of a powerful man than alcohol and womanly persuasion.

She found this brothel through a recommendation and bought it off the original owner. He was a drunkard who took advantage of the girls that suffered from loan traps. After buying the property under the alias 'Ophelia', Elizabeth paid off the girls' debts and offered double the salary. That was how 'Ophelia's Garden' came to be.

It wasn't long before she gained the trust and respect of all the workers and the reputation of the brothel skyrocketed.

"What is the occasion?" Rosie led her to a cushioned, velvet seat and sat on the arm with crossed knees.

Eliza folded her hands and smiled, "Before that, I wanted to check on the girls and the condition of their workplace."

The golden-haired woman named Daisy stepped forward and curtsied without a skirt, "Dear Mother, I have noticed that some of the bedding has become soiled beyond repair."

"Is that so? I believe I called in an order just last month. Have the cleaners been slacking?" Eliza tilted her head in questioning.

Daisy threaded her fingers and wasn't sure how to answer. A girl with long, black hair named Dahlia stepped forward, "We've been getting more business than usual, I'm afraid the cycling of sheets has become troublesome to keep up with."

"Hmm, I suppose that's a good thing. If that's the case," Eliza briefly rested her hand on Rosie's knee to get her attention, "please place an order for double the usual. The last thing we need is my flowers lying in soiled sheets."

"U-understood Mother." Unbeknownst to Eliza, Rosie's entire face flushed pink, and she titled her head so her bangs would obscure her hazy eyes. Even just one touch from Elizabeth made her hips weak for some reason.

Eliza's innocent way of interacting with the girls without fear or worry was exactly what drew them in at first. Being treated as an equal while also being impervious to seduction made some women enjoy the challenge while also spurring bashful reactions from others.

"Any other requests?" Elizabeth sat and spoke with perfect etiquette and listened seriously to the complaints of the women. Some mentioned new applications sent in which she still had to decline for fear of spies infiltrating.

One girl named Tulip expressed her possible pregnancy and Eliza wrote a recommendation for a reputable, female gynecologist.

"Give this to her and mention the name Ophelia. She'll know what to do. She's trustworthy so you may share your real identity."

Tulip graciously accepted the letter with misty eyes and pinched her lips in thought.

Eliza, noticing her reluctance, clasped both her hands and spoke softly, "Amy, if you choose to keep the baby, I will make arrangements for proper pay. You deserve a family if you so choose to."

Hearing her real name spoken after so long, Tulip finally let her tears fall and collapsed at Eliza's feet. She buried her face in her lap and wept for a long time. While Eliza rubbed her back in slow circles, others held their breaths while watching their own worst fears.

Pregnancy is a life-threatening situation for sex workers who cannot afford to lose even a day of wages. Not only that, abortions are usually dangerous and damaging to their bodies. That's why their boss is different. She's a woman who puts her workers first, not the clientele.

A few of the ladies finally led the whimpering girl out of the room to her bedroom to rest while Eliza spoke softly to compose the rest.

"I have a task for a few of you. Rosie, Daisy, and Dahlia, follow me. The rest of you, continue with your duties. I'll call in dinner for everyone tonight as well." She guided the group down the hall and through a locked door where her office is. For a well-mannered lady, her office was filled with a surprising amount of clutter and documents strewn about. What the girls didn't understand was that Eliza intentionally kept it this way. Only she can navigate the disorderly organization system. It hides the confidential files under piles of misleading paperwork.

She pulled out a notepad and began writing down a description. "Dahlia, I need you to find a man that matches this description." She handed the paper off to the black-haired woman who quickly memorized it.

"What is his relation?"

"That man approached the Baron while he was escorting me from my carriage."

Rosie scowled, "How did that lousy man learn of your arrival before us?"

Eliza rubbed her forehead in thought, "He must have been intercepting my mail all this time. I'll need a better system going forward. Regardless, he intends for me to attend this Masquerade Ball soon."

She looked over at Daisy who threaded her fingers as though wishing for something.

"I need you to find out what he's up to."

Daisy smiled, satisfied she would be of help to Mother.

Finally, Eliza regarded Rosie with all seriousness. "I will try to get out of this mess myself, but in the meantime, get an invitation to the ball. You have some of the best connections in this business, and I need an ally from the inside."

Rosie flicked back her hair and grinned, "One of my regulars will jump at the chance, I will be there."

Eliza sent them away and then sat on her chair with a big sigh. She originally intended to only check in on the brothel and secure the usual reports. It was her ignorance to assume the Baron would leave her alone once she left her family home.

After ruminating on the subject for a little longer, she felt her gut grumble. "Pasta sounds good for tonight."

...

With a full stomach, she returned to Mr. Taylor's residence at nearly midnight. The girls seemed more desperate for her attention than usual and it was hard to leave any sooner than that.

As though anticipating her late arrival, he had earlier given her the key to the back door that led to a personal set of stairs. She collapsed on her mattress, exhausted from the events of the day. For some reason, every time she visited the brothel, she would return more exhausted than usual. As though something had been draining her energy during the whole visit.

Just like before at her own home, she shuddered at the thought of leaving the window open. It felt like a strong presence was observing her from outside. She felt that feeling once before when she was visited by that demon a few days prior.

As though on cue, the tall, balcony doors burst open with a gust of wind. She bit back a scream and ran towards the glass doors to shut them properly. Before locking them shut, behind the fluttering curtains, she thought she saw a figure sitting on the railing, watching her.

Her heart raced and her legs wouldn't move on their own. Once that person jumped from the railing and there was only the thin glass between them, a sense of panic threw her into action.

She stumbled back to escape but tripped over the ottoman, consequently landing on the ground with a heavy thud. She slammed her head on the hardwood and watched the world spin into oblivion. The last thing she saw were two purple lights, closing in on her.