"Exactly. It describes most of the better grade of Covent Garden ware and is updated regularly. There is also a listing of night houses, which are taverns where such women can be met. Common streetwalkers are not allowed in. If you want to try one, the best is Kate Hamilton's in Princes Street, but the places I am taking you tonight provide better quality and service."
"You are too kind." Peregrine leaned back against the velvet upholstery. It promised to be a most intriguing evening.
Their first stop was a conventional brothel, unusual only for the lavishness of its furnishings. They were admitted by a hulking porter who looked like a pugilist past his prime. After accepting a warm welcome, Weldon asked if Madam de Maintenon was available.
Immediately they were ushered into the presence of a tall woman of middle years. The madam was heavy, her red hair of a shade not found in nature, and her smooth complexion from a paint pot, but she still had a coarse prettiness. Peregrine guessed that she had been a beauty in her glory years.
After greeting her, Weldon said, "My friend is new to London, so I knew that he could do no better than to meet you."
Madam de Maintenon looked Peregrine over with frank appreciation. In a voice that sounded more of the East End than Paris, she said, "Pleased to meet you, my lord. If you'd like to see my girls, just take a look through here."
She drew aside a brocade drapery and gestured to ward several small circles of glass set into the wall a different heights. Peregrine stepped to the highest peephole and looked through into a sumptuously furnished drawing room where half a dozen young women sat or reclined in skimpily cut, translucent dresses that left no doubt as to their profession. The system was like that in certain Asian eateries, where the customer could choose his dinner from fish swimming in a large tank.
"The girls are inspected by a doctor every week," the madam said briskly. "Wine and a fine supper are included in the basic price. Special rates if you want more than one girl at a time, unless it's a busy night. Then they're full price. We also offer the best costume shows in London."
"Costume shows?"
"The girls dress up and do a bit of acting," she explained. "Most clients find the costumes very amusing. Governesses, schoolgirls, dairymaids, harem ladies, duchesses, women dressed to look like your mother... we can provide most anything." She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "You're foreign, aren't you? If you're Catholic, you might want to try the nun show—it's particularly popular with papists. We have one gent who likes a shepherdess, complete with sheep, but for something special like that, we need a day or two of notice."
She gave a raucous laugh. "One of my girls can make herself up just like the queen, so if you've a fancy to roger Her Royal Highness, here's your chance. I guarantee that Lisette knows things Victoria never bought of."
"I have no doubt of that." Peregrine wondered how Queen Victoria would react if she knew that her subjects were guilty of such lèse-majesté. "Very intriguing, Madam de Maintenon."
"What would you fancy, my lord?" she asked hopefully. No doubt being called "my lord" was part of the service, like the wine and the fine supper. Dropping the brocade drapery, he replied, "Tonight I am just acquainting myself with what is available. I shall stay longer on my next visit."
They took their leave and returned to the carriage, where Peregrine said, "An excellent establishment of the more conventional type, Sir Charles. Now, what of the more exotic delights you mentioned?"
Weldon laughed. "Not easily impressed, are you? Very well, I shall introduce you to some of the more unusual houses. Shall I include the city's best homosexual brothel in the tour?"
Even though he had expected this, Peregrine's hands curled into fists, the nails gouging his palms. Grateful for the carriage's concealing darkness, he said evenly, "That isn't a primary interest of mine, but it would be useful to know at least one such establishment for possible future use."
The next stop was Soho, at the lavish house of a lady who went by the name of Mrs. Cambridge. Dressed in clinging silk and trailing fur, she proudly displayed her collection of whip thongs, leather straps, needle-pointed cat-o'-nine-tails, curry combs, and much more. Her birch rods were stored in water to keep them supple, and the rooms were decorated with elegant vases full of stinging nettles that could be used if the customer wished.
The lady stroked a thong, saying cheerfully, "Many a dead man has been brought back to life with these."
The lady's pièce de résistance was an apparatus called the Cambridge Chevalet, which she had designed herself. A cross between a rack and a freestanding ladder, it was padded and could be adjusted to a man's height. When the customer was strapped in place for his punishment, holes in the rack allowed a scantily clad assistant to caress him in appropriate places.