Who: Zipporah Baskt and Leah Allen What: First encounter Where: Zipporah's Flat When: December 1st 1888 Ratings/warnings: PG
Zipporah came out into her living room bearing a tea tray and a warm, encouraging smile.
“Your friend, she will be fine,” she said, setting down the tray. “My auntie, she is one of the best in the city for problems such as these.” She gestured to the tray. “Please,” she said, “have some tea while you are waiting? And a sandwich, if you should care for one.”
It wasn’t entirely unusual for women to come to the Bakst house in pairs -- especially these days, when there was strength in numbers. Miriam was seeing to the woman who’d needed attention -- Georgie -- in back; it was a simple enough procedure that didn’t require Zipporah’s assistance. Her friend was an uncommonly pretty woman despite her current expression of concern, and Zipporah had taken on the role of hostess before -- soothing worried friends and expectant fathers was a part of the job.
Leah nodded and tried not to let her worries get the better of her. When Georgie had confided the problem and asked for her to come along she’d feared the worst. The other woman had been her mentor and first (best) friend at Miss Lydia’s, and Leah had been tempted more than once to let her know who she really was. So to hear that everything would be all right was music to her ears.
She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and met the other woman’s eyes. “Thank you.” The main room of the apartment was barely larger than her bedroom back home, and simply furnished, though the furniture appeared to be of good quality and fairly new. The immigrants seemed to be doing quite well for themselves. Satisfied that her friend was being taken care of, Leah slipped her gloves off and put them in her handbag before settling into one of the chairs to take tea.
Zipporah stilled for a beat as she noticed the distinctive ring on the other woman’s finger.
She’d recognize it anywhere -- she’d spelled it herself, on commission from the rather mysterious Mr Allen. They’d been orbiting around one another for a few months now, and she had gained some insight into the man, but he was still largely a handsome, rather charming cipher.
The ring was one of two he’d requested -- linked rings so he could tell whether the owner was in danger -- the sort of link one could only establish with family or lovers.
She wondered which one the blonde woman was.
She nodded at the woman’s hand. “You are close with Mr Allen, then?” She said, matter-of-factly. “He is known to me. An... associate.” She wasn’t quite certain he’d qualify as a friend, but there was a certain degree of shared trust, and she had done business with him.
Blue eyes snapped up to stare at her hostess, and Leah wondered just who she was besides a healer. The tone of her voice and body language didn’t suggest her father had taken the young immigrant for a lover, but there was a definite familiarity in how she spoke about him.
“What do you know about Gabriel? And about the ring?” Leah’s voice held no accusation, merely curiosity. It was too soon to go revealing information until she knew more about this woman. Maybe she’d tell her and maybe she wouldn’t, but there was no reason ‘Vickie’ would have a ring from Gabriel Allen like the one she had on her hand.
Zipporah set the tea things aside carefully -- this sort of answer demanded concentration -- and she met the gaze evenly.
“I know the ring because I made it,” she said, quietly. “I have worked with him in the past on a few different matters, and he asked me to make two of them, for peoples he wished for to keep safe, and that is one of the two.”
She shrugged. “I know some other things too,” she added, “but one of them is that he is a man who appreciates discretion, and would not want peoples telling things to others about him that he would not want spread about.” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “However, you are one of two persons in the world he wished most for to keep safe, which changes things.” She smiled a little, carefully. “So what should you wish to know?”
“I don’t think there’s anything about him I don’t already know.” Leah couldn’t help the small smirk that played across her face as she said the words. She might not know everything he was up to, but she knew everything important in his life.
“I’m more interested in learning about you. How Gabriel Allen came to know a young immigrant woman well enough to know about her special gifts and that she was the one to craft such important instruments.” If Zipporah satisfied her curiosity well enough then she’d reveal who she really was, if not then ‘Vickie’ would help Georgie when it was time to leave and get her information from her father when she went home.
Zipporah laughed a little at that, reaching for the tea and pouring her guest a cup before doing the same for herself.
“He is very observant,” she said, conversationally, looking up with a sparkle in her eye. “He runs a brothel, and me and my auntie specialize in the health of the woman.” She grinned. “What can I say? He knows of a useful thing when he hears of it. I also know protective magics, and we have some friends in common.” She added some jam to her tea and stirred it in. “It is a small world we live in, is it not?”
“He certainly is at that.” Leah murmured with a smile, bringing the tea to her lips. For all that Zipporah was an immigrant she’d certainly learned how to make the national beverage of the British well enough. She supposed it was to be expected.
A laugh escaped her lips at the explanation and Leah found herself nodding. “And yes, it most certainly is a small world.” The door Georgie had disappeared through was still closed, and a glance at the clock suggested it would stay that way for a little while yet. She had time. Everything she’d heard corresponded with the description Una had given of the other woman, and if both Una and her father trusted Zipporah that was good enough for her.
Decision made, she put down the cup briefly and held out a hand. “Leah Allen, pleased to make your acquaintance. I will ask you not to repeat that to anyone from Miss Lydia’s unless I tell you otherwise beforehand. They know me as Vickie Smith and I’d rather my true name stay separate from that world.”
Zipporah paused, and her eyebrow raised.
“Leah,” she said, taking the hand and shaking it. “I am most pleased for to be making your acquaintance as well,” she added, “and I shall not speak of your true name to anyone.”
“Thank you.” Leah retrieved her teacup after shaking hands. She was taking a bit of a risk trusting Zipporah so early but if her father and Una both vouched for her Leah assumed she was worthy of the trust.
One’s true name was indeed a powerful gift given, and she nodded her head graciously to be the recipient of such trust. “You are not his wife, I do not think,” Zipporah replied, a little smile flashing across her face, “although I may be wrong on that count. Are you his sister, perhaps?” She laughed a little. “It can be difficult, for to tell the ages of a person at times.”
“No, I'm definitely not his wife.” The concept was a bit repulsive to her, though she understood Zipporah had no way of knowing her relationship to Gabriel. She took a sip of tea. “Nor his sister. Gabriel is my father, in my case if you thought me to be as young as you appear to be you'd be right.”
“Ah! I see,” Zipporah replied, a few pieces falling into place. She wouldn’t have pegged Gabriel as a family man, not from appearances alone, but it made a certain degree of sense, and she looked back to Leah with a considering eye.
Gabriel’s daughter was a beauty -- the sort of effortless beauty men write songs and poems about -- but that was no surprise, given how ridiculously pretty her father was. She was golden and well-formed, and carried herself with a confidence that spoke of either being a very good actress, or being secure with her place in the world.
Or both, given she had a secret identity.
She paused at that, and then her cheeks flamed rather brightly as she connected another few dots. Gabriel’s daughter had a name she used when she associated with people in his brothel. She wasn’t quite certain what she thought of that.
She cleared her throat. “You are very kind, for to bring your…” she looked at the door. “Your friend,” she ended with.
“Georgie is my friend.” Leah insisted, then paused. “At least as much as she can be without knowing who I really am. She helped me when I needed it. When she asked me to come with her of course I said yes.”
She eyed Zipporah, wondering exactly what she thought of her father and the business he ran. “Nobody at Miss Lydia’s is forced into doing anything against their will. My father wouldn’t allow it and neither would I.”
Zipporah paused, and considered carefully before nodding her head and biting her lip.
It was ironic in a way -- she knew Gabriel better, but hearing as much from his daughter carried more weight.
“I do not know you well,” she said, “but you are good to your friend, and your father has only ever treated me with respect, and his friends trust him, as do I. There are… there are ways of living I am not used to, that are not part of my world, but…” she shrugged. “I am not one for to pass judgement because of that.”
Mollified, Leah resumed drinking her tea. She still thought it horrible that some women had no other option but to sell their bodies, but sometimes that was the only option left for them. All the more reason for her to work toward the day when women had the same rights and opportunities as men. “Hopefully places like Miss Lydia’s will be unnecessary one day, but believe me I've heard horror stories about what some places are like.”
Maybe one day she'd tell Zipporah why she joined the academy in the first place, but not on their first meeting. “We do have a friend in common, a woman who has been around for a long, long time and has an allergy to iron?”
“Una?” Zipporah replied, a little surprised and pleased. “Yes, indeed. I think she might have written of you in one of her letters. She is a great lady.” She nodded her head in agreement with Leah’s assessment. “And I agree, very much so. On all counts. Some of the women who’ve come here...” she frowned, and shook her head. “They are miserable indeed. And they would be considered criminals, as would I for helping them. Hm.”
“And all because they’re trying to survive, or make sure their families survive.” Leah continued to thank her lucky stars she’d been born wealthy. Sure she’d had to use Miss Lydia’s as a way to have a regular supply of ‘food’ to survive once she’d manifested, but that had only been because of her station in life and to avoid scandal. Poor women might not have that luxury, and they certainly wouldn’t have the Madam and the owner looking out for them!
“Una is a wonder. She’s known my father all my life, I can’t say I’ve known her much until recently though.” Children were supposed to be seen and not heard after all.
“How wonderful,” Zipporah replied, smiling. “I have only just met her myself. It is…” she bit her lip a little. “It is unexpected, the way a person of her… of her standing and race might be friends with a person such as me. I would not have thought it possible, from what I thought I knew of the world.” Her smile warmed as she nodded over to Leah. “And now I have met you, and I can see why she likes you.”
“We’re all ants compared to Fae like her,” Leah waved off the depreciating comment. “Anyone, regardless of what station we were born to ought to be flattered that beings like that are interested in us and are willing to be friends.” She for one certainly wouldn’t ever want to see a Sidhe angry with her.
She smiled back at Zipporah and raised her teacup in salute. “And I think I can see why she likes you too.”