About ten minutes have passed since your awakening. This 'Undertaker' had made good on what he said, finding you a long black robe to wear. It was baggy on you, but at least it was warm.
He's taken you into a small parlour room, located next door to the room you'd risen in. He hands you a cup of tea in a flask, and you incline your head in thanks.
'So then, me dear, I do believe I owe you an apology. When I came across you on me way back from the shops, I was sure you were dead! I couldn't just leave ya there, given me profession an' all, so I decided to take you back to me shop. I figured you had no family, so I was just going to treat you like any other Jane Doe and give you a quiet little send off. I didn't expect to find you awake on me table, that's for sure! That was priceless!' He descends into a fit of giggles, and you're not sure what to make of him. Sure, he probably did you a favour by taking you off of the streets for a while, but how could anyone find this funny? For all he knew, you were dead, a corpse on a slab. Anyone else walking in on that could have had a heart attack! But there he was, reacting calmly at first, now giggling about it! Giggling! This man was a strange one for sure. You only hope he's not the dangerous kind of strange.
His laugher subsides. 'Oh, that reminds me.' He pulls something from his pocket and gives it to you; it's your 20 guineas! 'This was hidden in that dress of yours. I was goin' to keep it, given that you had no use for it. But now that you do, it's only right I give it back. It's a little too late for the dress though; it was so dirty, I couldn't just leave you in it. I threw it out with the rubbish.' He smiles, a touch of apology in it. You say nothing, just stare at the money in your hand, memories of how you got it flooding your mind. You'd sold yourself to the very devil, just to earn money for food. You'd fallen so far, you don't recognise yourself anymore. You start to cry.
'Hey now, don't cry. I can't bear to see pretty girls so sad. Tell you what, why don't I draw you a bath? You can wash up, and I'll make us some supper. Would you like that, me dear?' You nod, somewhat astonished by his kindness. Most men would have thrown you out by now. Perhaps he was after something in return? That sounds about right. The men in your life never did anything for you without gaining something in return. Why should this man be any different?
He disappears, presumably to start your bath, and you finish your tea in silence, contemplating your situation further. He reappears just as you finish your drink.
'Your bath is ready, sweetheart. I've made it nice and hot for you. I've even made some little soap bubbles in the water. There's a clean towel, flannel, and bar of soap by the side. I've also put aside some water in a bucket for rinsing. Take as long as you like. I'll have supper ready by the time you come out!' He gestures toward the bathroom, and once again you incline your head in thanks.
He isn't lying about the temperature; it's the hottest bath you've ever taken. It feels so good against you, the warmth seeping into your aching muscles. You recline in the tub for a while, letting yourself enjoy a moment of relaxation before your thoughts turn dark again. Your eyes scan the room, half expecting to see a peep hole in the wall or something. Yet you see nothing, just a small cabinet full of little glass bottles, a sink, and a toilet. 'Must be his only facilities. My old house had three baths and four toilets, none of which were in the same area.' You realise how snobbish your thoughts sound. You should just be grateful for this man's kindness, at least while it lasts.
Sighing, you grab the soap, and begin cleaning yourself. The grime that comes off of you makes the water turn brown, which makes your stomach churn. It hasn't been that colour since your childhood, when you'd come in covered in dirt after helping mother in the garden. But this was a different kind of dirt; this was filth from the street, and it was all you were worth now.
You take care to clean thoroughly between your legs, seeking to erase all evidence of this afternoon from your body. You wonder if he really will seek you out again as he stated earlier. Maybe if you do it enough times you'll be able to afford a place to live. Somewhere where you can whore yourself out properly. Who's to say he's the only man willing to fuck you? There must be plenty of men just waiting for a woman like you to give them a quick shag. After all, your pride is already in ruin. Why salvage it when you can make a good living out of it?
Carefully considering your options (or lack thereof) you wash your hair slowly, and rinse yourself off with a the water provided. A brisk rubdown with the towel leaves you feeling clean and dry, and you put on the robe from earlier. As you open the bathroom, the smell of stew hits your nostrils, and your stomach shouts out in hunger; that must be the supper Undertaker spoke of.
You follow the smell into a small kitchen-diner, where you seen Undertaker standing by a stove, apparently checking on supper.
'Ah, there you are me dear, I take it you had a pleasant bath? Take a seat, I'm just finishing off supper.' You sit as far away from the stove as you can, still a little weary of him. He seems to pick up on this.
'I'm not going to bite you, sweetheart. I've got a stew here that's probably a lot tastier!' He giggles again, and you can't help but smile a little this time.
'What's this? She smiles? Oh thank goodness, you really had me worried for a while. To think of a young woman not knowing how to smile makes me feel very sad indeed. Anyway, supper is ready. Help yourself to as much as you want. You're looking rather too skinny for me liking.' He sits opposite you and hands you your utensils and a bow, before letting you dish out yours first.
You take a bite of the stew; it was delicious! The meat was so tender it practically dissolved in your mouth, and the vegetables tasted fresh, like they'd only just come out of the ground. You wolf down your bowl, and make to go seconds, before remembering where you are. You stop yourself before you can. Suddenly, he pulls your bowl towards himself, grabs the ladle, and fills it again, before pushing it back to you. You look at him, curious.
'I told you, have as much as you want. I can't eat it all by meself after all. Besides, it's been so long since I cooked for anyone. It's nice to see someone else eating what I've made. How is it?' You make a start on your second bowl before finally saying something for the first time since you met him.
'It's wonderful!' You exclaim happily, grinning widely. You seem to have forgotten all your initial misgiving about him. Undertaker grins back at you.
'Good, I'm glad. About time someone gave you a good meal I bet. How long have you been on the streets for, if you don't mind me asking?' You swallow your mouthful, and consider your options; do you tell him the truth, or give him a false story?
Not wanting to repay his kindness with lies, you opt for answering truthfully. 'About a month. My husband divorced me and kicked me out of the house. I've been living in an alleyway ever since.' He seems quite sympathetic.
'Dear me, what a terrible thing to do to a young lady. Do you feel comfortable telling me why he would do something so awful to you?' You hesitate, but there's something about him that makes you want to tell him your story.
'My husband had been cheating on me for years. At first I thought all the women visiting him were clients or something, but I soon discovered I was wrong when I walked in on him having sex with one of them. I wanted so badly to leave him, but he wouldn't let me; he started using force to prevent my leaving. Then just over a month ago, my former husband and I visited the manor of Lord Phantomhive. I…' you falter, unsure if you should confess all to a total stranger. Before you can continue, Undertaker interjects.
'Let me guess, you were seduced by the butler, who then proceeded to tell your husband, presumably providing some kind of evidence? Your husband divorced you, and used your infidelity as leverage to get some kind of payout, before casting you aside and moving on to the next poor woman?' You look at him, stunned. How did he know?
Your question must have been written all over your face, because he answered it without you even asking. 'I work for the young Lord Ciel on occasion, providing him with information in exchange for a fee. I take it that you must be the former Mrs. Scottington? Servant and Master both were in here asking about him a while back. If I had known they were to involve you in their little scheme, I would have kept my mouth shut. I do not like it when innocents end up involved in things such as this.' Well, shit. And you were just starting to like this man.
Undertaker sees your distress, and tries to calm you. 'Me dear, I swear on me life that I didn't know they would use you in such a way. I am truly, deeply sorry.' You wish you could see his eyes, to see if there was any truth in them. Alas, they're covered by his hair, so all you can do is trust your gut instinct; that he's telling the truth.
'It's alright. It's a little late in the day for apologies. I think your kindness has made up for your part in my misfortune. But if you'll excuse me, I really should leave now.' You stand up, but he makes to stop you.
'Leave? Now? But it's dark outside. And terribly cold. Why not stay the night? I've a bed that's more than comfortable, you're welcome to it.' And here's the catch; this man wanted repayment for his kindness after all.
'If I stay the night here, you'll let me go in the morning?' You need to know where you stand; is this a one-off repayment, or would he expect you to remain longer? He did do a lot for you tonight, maybe he wants individual repayments on everything. A fuck for finding you, a fuck for feeding you… or would once be enough?
'If you really want to, you can leave first thing. I won't stop you. Now come, the bedroom is this way.'
You follow him, going into yet another room ('his 'home' really is rather big,' you think to yourself.). This room contains only one thing; a large and rather dusty-looking double bed.
He shakes the duvet, trying to shift some of the dust. 'Here we are, a little bit dusty, but it should be plenty comfortable!' He looks at you and grins.
Steeling your nerves, you remove your robe, baring yourself to him. He looks at you, genuinely perplexed, as you saunter over to him. As you reach out to him, he gently grabs your wrists, stopping you.
'As long as it's been since I've had a beautiful woman approach me naked, I think you should get some rest. If you do decide not to scurry off first thing, I'll be making pancakes for breakfast. If you need anything in the night, just knock on the coffin in the main room with a crimson cross on it. That's where I'll be sleeping. Goodnight.' And with that, he releases his hold on you and exits the room, leaving you feeling perplexed. 'So when he said I was welcome to his bed, he meant just that; that I was welcome to it. Just me. No catch. Well, shit!' your thoughts rapidly turn from confusion into embarrassment; you'd let this total stranger see you totally naked, AGAIN, and had attempted to offer yourself to him. Today was just the worse.
Suddenly feeling very tired indeed, you decide to crawl into the bed naked. Not your usual bedroom attire, but there was no way you were sleeping in that robe; you'll boil to death!
As you drift off, you try to think of a plan for tomorrow. Should you stay for breakfast, and talk more with the Undertaker? Or should you leave, and start your new life as a common whore?
'Best to speak with the Undertaker', you think. 'If he's helped me this far without reward, maybe he'll be willing to help me a little more. After all, he did seem sorry about all that's happened to me…' becoming too tired to think anymore, your thoughts dissolve into nothingness, and you fall into the inky darkness of dreams.