The Pleasure Merchant Read Free

Retrieving the locks from the shelf where the thick braids sat coiled like serpents, he swaddled them in tissue, tied it all with a ribbon, and then wrapped the parcel and the wig-powder together in brown paper, tying it with twine.
    “I say. Look at the size of that wig!”
    Master Callow had followed him; he was peeking into the workroom and staring at the massive hairpiece on the stand. Tom opened his mouth to request that he leave—customers were not typically allowed in the back room—but bit off his protest, afraid of seeming rude.
    “Is the owner going as Charles the Second?”
    “No, John Wilmot,” said Tom absently as he tied the knot on the parcel. “Mr. Maun—ah, the gentleman’s tastes run to the poetic rather than the political. But, I say, would you mind not…” Callow was thoughtfully fingering one of the perfect curls he’d been laboring over, and it took all Tom’s willpower not to strike the boy’s soft hand away from it. The nerve! Even though he could see no harm had been done, it annoyed Tom that the young scoundrel had put his hands on it in the first place.
    “I beg your pardon!” Callow dropped it and raised his hands, backing away slowly, making a show of it. “Well, it’s a very fine piece; I imagine it will cost him a pretty penny. Speaking of which, how much will my odds and ends be?”
    “The hairpieces? Altogether, ten guineas, with the powder.”
    “ Ten guineas? I bought myself a decent enough wig for seven pounds just last month!”
    “Hair is very dear right now…”
    Master Callow sighed. “I suppose it serves me right. Well… I only have five on me…”
    “Does Mr. Bewit have an account here?”
    “I expect we’ll open one as you’ve been so kind in my time of need. Will five be enough to…”
    Tom hesitated. Mr. Dray did not like to extend credit to strangers, but neither would he want Tom to refuse service to gentlefolk. “Of course, Master Callow.”
    “Good, good.”
    Tom thought the lad was reaching for his coin purse, but instead he withdrew a fine pocket watch. It was silver, with a rose inlaid in what looked like carnelian and jade. Callow checked the time.
    “How nice, I’ll be early for my next appointment,” he said, sounding most satisfied. He noticed Tom looking at the watch. “Pretty little thing, isn’t it? It was made in Versailles, for my mother.”
    “It’s exquisite.”
    “Inside and out.” Callow opened the watch to show the face. The silver backing caught the early morning sunlight streaming through the window, catching Tom square in the eyes.
    “I find its sound most soothing, don’t you?”
    Callow Bewit seemed unaware he kept blinding Tom with flashes of light. Between that and listening to the ticking Tom began to feel queer and a bit sick, like the time he’d lost his breakfast to the Thames during a windy crossing. He felt his heart beating in his ears, he was going to faint…
    “Steady now!”
    Callow helped him into a chair, and he had just settled himself when Mr. Dray’s daughter Hizziah came into the room. Even feeling as queasy as he did, he noticed she was looking particularly lovely in a pale blue morning gown trimmed with foamy white lace. Her light brown hair tumbled naturally all about her rose-pink cheeks, curling around her neck.
    “Tom? Oh, I do beg your pardon,” she said, dipping into a curtsey. Callow left Tom’s side, looking at Hizziah with considerable interest.
    “It is I who should beg your pardon, madam,” said Master Callow, bowing gracefully to the young lady. Hizziah blushed to be addressed so familiarly by the young stranger.
    “Is he—are you quite all right, Tom?”
    “He just came over queer all of a sudden,” supplied Callow.
    “Yes, I’m fine now, Hizzy—Miss Dray,” he said. Indeed, just as suddenly as it had come upon him, Tom’s nausea and disorientation were gone; he couldn’t even remember what had precipitated it. He and Callow had been concluding their transaction,