Nora didn’t argue. “You do seem out of sorts this morning. Maybe some more rest will do you good.”
The door opened and Lucy Goodwin poked her head into the room. “Good morning, Selah,” she said, making no attempt to hide her disapproval. As a devoted follower of the tenet “early to bed, early to rise,” Lucy considered sleeping late a character flaw of the highest order. “Are you unwell this morning?”
Nora glanced at me and mouthed, “She doesn’t know you fainted.”
That explained the disapproval. “I’m fine, Lucy. Just overslept is all.”
“Hmm.” She frowned, then looked back to Nora. “It’s time to go. Andrew and Jane Saxby are waiting downstairs.”
“I’ll be right there,” Nora promised. When the door closed she bent over to kiss my cheek. “Thank you for listening to my silly prattling. You’re the best friend in the entire world.” I stared after her as she walked to the door. Placing a hand on the knob, she turned back to me. “I almost forgot. Do you remember that poor wretch from the docks? The one I gave a couple of pennies to?”
A small spasm gripped my stomach. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I saw her again at the theater when James went to fetch the carriage.”
“Did she touch you?” I demanded.
“Good heavens! What a question, Selah.” Nora made a wry face. “Rest assured, my hand bears no sign of ill use from the gentle press of gratitude I received in exchange for another penny.”
My eyes flew over Nora, scrutinized her from head to toe. The boy had been stricken within seconds, but under normal circumstances the disease took days or even weeks to rear its ugly head. Not that these were normal circumstances.
“Don’t give me that look,” Nora said, misinterpreting my reaction. “You would have done the same in my place. The poor girl looked half-starved and judging by the condition of her clothing, she is either an orphan or pretty well near one. When I inquired into her situation, she made the oddest remark about how I am the one nesting amongst vipers.” Nora paused contemplatively.
I remained silent while grappling for the right words to warn her away from the wretch.
“Do you think she meant Cate specifically or London in general? I wanted to ask, but James returned and she ran away.”
“I...I...don’t know.” My thoughts had turned into a tug-of-war. Nora deserved to know of her danger, but I could hardly blurt out what had happened at the docks or last night without giving myself away. “I don’t have a good feeling about that girl. You really need to—”
“Nora!” Lucy’s stern voice came through the door, making us both jump. “Stop dawdling and get downstairs. The Saxbys have waited long enough.”
“I’ve got to go,” she apologized. “We can talk more later.”
The door closed, and I stared at the now empty space, my mind lurching like a maddened horse. The little wretch must have gone straight from Cate’s to the theater after attacking the boy. Why go there out of all the other places in London? Had Nora been purposefully targeted or was the girl looking for me?
Panic urged me to fly after my best friend. I pushed it back and focused instead on the available facts. Somehow, the wretch had acquired the skill to kill swiftly and, no doubt, could have struck Nora with the same efficiency she had used on the boy. Yet, Nora looked the epitome of good health this morning. While I mulled this over, another idea crept into my head. Was it possible that their encounter had been dictated by happenstance rather than premeditation? The girl could have been passing by on route to another destination, and having recognized Nora from the docks, hoped to gain nothing more than another penny.
The panic began to subside, soothed by the reasonableness of this new theory. But no matter her motivation, she was bad news and Nora had to be warned against further interaction. Prohibited from sharing the whole truth, I would frame my own knowledge into horrible stories being whispered through London—perhaps about a habit of harming small children for fun. Worded the right way, I wouldn’t even have to lie too much. Certainly, Nora couldn’t turn a blind eye, no matter how sorry she may feel for the girl.
My nerves somewhat restored, I glanced toward the window. Nora was right about the day and I decided not to waste any more of it. Throwing the covers back, I got out of bed to pull the bell for Beth.
Once dressed, I washed a few bites of a scone down with a cup of tea before clearing a spot on my dressing table to write a note to Julian. With the quill in hand, I stared down at the blank parchment, debating how best to start. Numerous salutations came to mind, one seemingly more suitable than the rest. I dipped the quill into the ink and started to write:
Dearest Julian,
My hand wavered, nearly struck out the intimate salutation. At the last second I decided to leave it.
Thank you for the basket.