Shadows Gray

Chapter Twenty-Two



The directions we get from an old man seem to make sense and Emme and I follow them to the letter. It begins to rain but it’s only a light drizzle that makes our hair curl and it stops as soon as it had started. The basic layout of the city is beginning to seem slightly more logical; at least it’s not as nonsensical as I had first believed. We are in the East side of London, the poorest side but most likely also the most hospitable to the Lost. Sir Halloway is in Mayfair, or at least the old man seems to think so, and it’s a few miles, about three or so. Once again, with nothing else to do, we decide to walk there.

We end up finding the place, not because of my stellar memory of the building, but because I catch a glimpse of the stern, pot bellied driver who had driven me back to East London the night before. Knowing I didn’t make the best of impressions on him I don’t make myself known to him, but we do follow him discreetly for a block or so and he leads us directly to Sir Halloway’s house.

“Oh, this isn’t that exciting, Sonnet,” Emme looks disappointed. “He isn’t that rich after all.”

“No?” I lean my head back and stare up at the home. “Seems rich enough to me.”

“Middle class, at best,” Emme yawns. “Probably has a few servants. Underpaid ones most likely. Probably behind on his bills and has creditors after him. Bet his floozy wife was a spend thrift.” She nods knowingly.

“You can get all that from a house?” I ask incredulously. “My, you’re good. Maybe you should hang up the shingle for Fortune Telling.”

“I do quite well with my chosen profession, thank you.” Emme responds primly, petting down her pretty pink dress and then giving me a wink.

“Ugh. Whatever. Let’s go in. I’m really anxious to see Prue.”

We ring the bell, after lifting our skirts daintily to climb the steps. Emme is daintier than I naturally; I almost trip but I blame the boots Dad stole for me which are far too big. For a tall girl, I have little feet, a claim that Lady Halloway could not boast. That sudden thought stops me in my tracks.

“Oh my word, Emme, wait! I can’t show up wearing his wife’s dress!” I am appalled at myself and my stupidity. I want to scurry off like a wayward little girl, found out by her elders or playmates. I glance around frantically for a tree, a bush, anything to hide behind.

Emme regards me with amusement.

“Goodness, girl, settle down. It’s not like Sir Halloway is going to answer his own door. He won’t even be home, and if he is he’ll be sipping sherry in his library. Come here and quit looking like a silly nut.”

“Really?” I creep back towards her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course, you child. Look smart now.”

The door swings open and sure enough, to my relief and Emme’s credit, there is a maid on the other side. She regards us with a look of expectation on her young face.

“We’re friends of Prue’s,” Emme says. “Can we see her please?”

“The old lady? Aye, I expect you can, though that crazy bag having friends is news to me.” The maid laughs at her own cleverness. Evidently she recognizes us for commoners and is not concerned with the impression she makes. She does not blink at my dress though, and that, at the moment, is all I care about.

“We’ll find the way,” Emme says, bossily, as soon as we are admitted into the home. “Go back to work, girl.”

The maid gives her a look that could melt a glacier but stalks off and we are left to ourselves in the foyer.

“What was that all about?” I speak softly.

“Working girls,” Emme winks. “We understand each other but I can’t say we respect each other, is all. Up the stairs we go,” she whispers cheerfully.

I follow her dutifully, my heart still in my throat at the possibility of running into Sir Halloway while I wear his runaway wife’s stolen dress. Emme peeks into doorways and listens and tiptoes and is so light on her feet that she practically flits around, while I am preoccupied with not making heavy boot stomps on the floor, giving away our location.

“In here,” Emme beckons me over to a door and I hurry to her side. She flings it open.

“Surprise!” Emme says happily.

Prue is sitting up in bed and looks delighted to see us, or as delighted as I’ve ever seen Prue look, which is to say smiling all the way to her eyes.

“Oh, my girls, come in, come in,” she whispers like a small child trying not to get caught. “Shut the door. How are you? How are things out there?”

“Chilly and damp and too far away from you,” I say.

“Wonderful and glorious and so England-y!” says Emme. I roll my eyes at her exuberance.

I sit down on the bed and squeeze Prue’s hands. “How are you? Is Sir Halloway buying anything you’re selling, you old liar?”

Prue bats away the notion that anything less would be possible the same way I’ve seen her bat away flies from her food cart. “Just a matter of time, girl. I slipped something special into Gertie’s breakfast that she served the mister this morning so now I’m just waiting for it to take effect.”

“You poisoned Sir Halloway?” I can’t help myself; I gasp.

Prue glares at me. “I ain’t stooping to murder. I just made him a little sick is all. ‘Sides, that woman’s cooking is awful enough on its own. Probably kill him herself if I gave her enough time. I’m just hurrying her termination along faster.”

“You’ve always had the imagination in this family, Prue,” Emme winks. “That’s why you and I get along just fine.”

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you again, that’s for sure. I suppose it’s nice that I am. Seeing you, I mean.” As far as emotional displays of vulnerability, that’s about as mushy as I’ve seen Prue in recent memory.

“Do you want me to braid your hair?” Emme asks and picks up the brush on the table by the bed.

“That’d be nice. Sonnet, you can rub my feet, that’s a good girl.” She settles herself comfortably and stretches out her feet.

“How do I always get stuck with the feet?” I complain.

“Because we’ve seen your hair styles,” Emme points out. “Right now you look like a flock of eagles made a nest in your hair.”

“Hey, I just got here! It’s not like I own a hairbrush at the moment, much less shampoo or a fancy little bonnet like yours.” Emme’s bonnet is pink to match her dress and pinned at a flirty, saucy angle on her strawberry waves. “Besides, eagles don’t flock.”

“I haven’t been here any longer than you and I managed to make do and not look like I just crawled out of a grave. Don’t glare at me; I’ll brush yours out next.”

“Oh, will you please?” I mutter. “Prue, I can’t massage properly if you keep being so ticklish!”

Like a group of giggling girls at a slumber party, the three of us pass away an hour or two, listening for steps on the landing – me, prepared to jump under the bed at a moment’s notice if Sir Halloway walks in on us – and when Emme and I take our leave, Prue’s hair is plaited around her head the way she likes it, mine is brushed into submission and pinned up like a proper Victorian lady’s would be, and my hands smell like feet.

********************

“Home again, home again?” asks Emme, cheerily as we wander back the way we came.

It has begun to drizzle rain again, causing humidity and curly hair once more and I bemoan my poor, smooth hairstyle which barely got a chance to live and thrive in this weather before it died an untimely and sudden death.

“Home, street home,” I agree, and we pick up our pace.

********************

“I need to talk to you,” I tell Israel once we finally get back to our dingy little alley way. He has brought us all two dried apple pies and for a while there is nothing but the sound of munching and happy bellies growling. I report to everyone that Prue is well and fine. Dad has been successful enough at a day of pick-pocketing to have a pocket full of shillings and a couple pound notes that he oddly enough, turns over to me. Is this a step to temperance, I wonder? More likely; he just doesn’t want to be caught red handed.

The last thing I want to do after mine and Emme’s long walk is take another walk, but I want to talk to Is alone. The shock of traveling has worn off for the most part and I need to let my mind go back to America and what happened the night before we left. I need to know just how he knew where to find me and also if anyone had bothered to ask Luke where I might have gone. Luke knew about the old house; he should have known that’s where I was. Why wasn’t I found sooner?

Once we’re away from the others, I ask these questions. Israel’s face is as guarded and unreadable as ever and he pauses before answering me.

“We did go to Luke’s shop that first day, but it was closed down. I couldn’t find him; tried the coffee shop and Prue mentioned places she had seen him before but no luck. Tried the next day and he was there but he said he hadn’t seen you. He said you’d been trying to find Rose and he started suggesting places to look, but we’d searched them all. We tried the soup kitchen, tried Penny, even went to her house, went and found Harry and Matthias. At one point, he and I separated and he went driving like a bat out of hell. Met up later at the house and that’s when he mentioned the abandoned house you two had went to on your date.”

“It wasn’t a date. I don’t think.” I object.

“Whatever,” he answers shortly. “He was upset he hadn’t thought of it before and he was mad at himself. He had walked all the way from his house to tell us because he said his truck had died. I borrowed Gladys’ car and found the old house. It was pretty easy to know which one since my car was sitting in front of it. No one was there obviously; I checked the whole place, so I left and kept driving. Eventually I saw you leaning against that tree like a ghost.”

“You were mad,” I interjected. “You were like an avenging angel or something. I was hoping for hugs and you threw me in the car like a sack of potatoes.”

“I was mad? Of course I was mad!” Israel looked at me and glared and it was that night all over again. “You keep running off searching for someone we don’t know is really there and you refuse to ask for help. We slept all that first night without you, not even knowing you weren’t in your room. We could have traveled without you and never even knew what happened. Do you think your dad could handle that again, after Rose?”

“I know,” I say miserably. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just knew she was out there and I kept missing her and it was making me crazy. I thought if I could just catch up to her and make her see…make her want to be with us…I didn’t know I’d get locked in that awful place. I stayed awake so long, hoping you would do the same for me.”

“Well, we did. Anyway, when we got back, you probably didn’t see him, but Dawes was there. He didn’t say anything; just watched to make sure you were alright and then walked back into the night.”

“He must have felt bad for not thinking of the house sooner. I wish I could have talked to him before we left,” I stop walking and sit down on the cobblestones to give my feet a rest. The stolen boots are rubbing raw blisters on my heels and they sting. I pull them off and wiggle my toes in relief. “Did you see the book?”

“What book?”

“On the old couch in that house. And that line drawn in the dust, like someone had been there?”

“No, I was a little busy looking for you or your dead body, whichever I found first,” he answers drily.

“Well, it was creepy. I may have been wrong about Rose being there, but someone definitely was.”

“Someone who locked you in?”

“Yes. And then let me out. Which was even stranger.”

“You were deliriously tired,” Israel points out, but he doesn’t sound as though he believes what he’s suggesting anymore than I do. “Maybe it was never locked?”

“It was locked,” I say firmly, standing again. “And then it wasn’t. And I was too upset and hurting to try to find the person. I just wanted out of that house. I didn’t realize I was walking the wrong way until later. Then I just gave up. I was almost asleep when you found me.”

“Well, we’ll most likely never know what happened.”

“I suppose you’re right. And my chance to find my sister may be lost forever,” I am glum and my voice reflects that. “Let’s change the subject. What did you do today? Have you any ideas for lodging?”

“Yes, but you aren’t going to like it.” Israel starts walking again, back the way we came, towards our makeshift family. I step back into my boots, not bothering to lace them up and run awkwardly to catch up. The heels of the too-big boots slap against the ground.

“What do you mean I won’t like it? Whatever does that mean?”

“I met a young doctor. He has his own practice not too far from here. He treats the poorest and lowest, some of who don’t even pay. It’s a bit of an underground thing really; not many know he’s there and that’s the only way he can keep it going, otherwise he’d be swamped with patients. This district is abominable and rife with disease and crime. He came from a wealthy enough family, but they cut him off when he married a Chinese woman. That’s how I got him to trust me and offer me a position.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What? I’m confused.”

“Well, besides my medical knowledge which he could put to use too.”

“Yes, besides that.”

Israel looks uncomfortable. “Well, I had to appeal to his sympathies. So I made it seem as though we had more in common than we actually do. Besides being young doctors, I mean.”

“I don’t follow; you don’t come from a wealthy family and you aren’t married to a Chinese woman.”

“She doesn’t have to be Chinese; I’m already the ethnic minority here, remember? She only has to be white in order for me to have that social difficulty in common with him.”

I stop walking. “You didn’t?”

“I did. I saw my chance and I seized it.”

“Me?” I squeak.