She walked from the room and went to the kitchen where she prepared a meal for the girl. She shook her head. Poor little mite. Still, Mr Dumas was a rich man, and in fairness not really a nasty one. Providing the girl did as she was told, everything would be fine, and she didn’t look like a fighter. Not like the last one. A red-headed bitch with a tongue that could cut glass, and a scream to match. It had taken a few good hidings from her father and a stern talking to from her mother to bring that one round, and by then Mr Dumas was fed up. The mother had finally taken her to Nellie Deakins and if she, Maria Horlock, knew anything about it, the little madam would soon wish she was back here. At least Mr Dumas would only bother her once a day. At Nellie Deakins’ she was guaranteed six or seven fellows, and not all as clean and kind as Mr Dumas. Once Nellie had got the big money for the actual breaking in, the girl was worthless to her. Unless she was very young, when Nellie would use the piece of linen and the chicken blood trick a few times.

Mrs Horlock shook her head at the skulduggery of Nellie Deakins. Well, at least that little red-headed bitch would get her comeuppance there. This one though, this Eileen, seemed an amenable little thing. When she had scrubbed the child’s body she had checked for tell-tale hairs around her privates but there was nothing, not even any raised follicles, so she wouldn’t get anything in that department for a while yet. And a few leading questions had ascertained she hadn’t started her periods just yet. Oh, Mr Dumas was going to get his money’s worth with this one. The tiny budding breasts were like little plump cherries. Hard little nodules, just the way he liked them. She’d fill out though, this one, be all breasts and hips in a few years. But by that time she should have learnt enough to keep her in good stead for the rest of her life. Plus Mr Dumas always gave the girls a decent leaving present. One young lass had walked out of here with fifty pounds in her pocket!

Eileen allowed Cissy to pour the water over her body, ridding it of the residue from the bath water. Then Cissy wrapped her in a large white towel and dried off her hair. Pulling a comb through it gently, she began chattering to Eileen.

‘Mr Dumas will insist you bathe every day. Me, I only have to once a week. You’ll have the run of the house, but you can’t go out without Mrs Horlock or one of the stable boys with you. That’s not ’cos you’re a prisoner or nothing, it’s in case you get robbed of your togs.’