“Nothing to offer,” Allison said sharply, “and you ignore me.”
I spun back to her. “I’m sorry, but I’m leaving town at this very moment.”
“Leaving?” She blinked, and some of her frost melted. “Why? To where?”
“France, and I have no time to waste.” I strode past her and into the empty parlor. A quick scan through the window showed no one on the streets. Yet.
Allison stomped into the room. I turned to find her cheeks bright with fury. “How dare you ignore me, Eleanor! I’m here to see you.”
“Really?” I pursed my lips. “I’ve come to your house dozens of times, and you’ve always turned me away. So why are you truly here, Allison?”
For several moments we watched each other in silence. Mary’s footsteps pounded overhead as she raced to add my final measly belongings to a carpetbag.
But at last Allison spoke. “My mother,” she said slowly, “forbade me from seeing you. In fact, if she knew I was here right now, she’d kill me.” Then, like a bursting dam, words poured from her mouth. “But I need answers, Eleanor. I can’t wait anymore! Mother wants me to marry a rich man, you see, but I can’t. Night and day, I’m forced into company with nasty old bachelors and nastier old widowers.”
Gooseflesh pricked down my arms. Allison might have been telling my story from three months ago.
She stepped toward me. “I have to know what really happened with my brother. Mother might believe the newspapers, but I don’t. Tell me how Clarence died.”
I didn’t move. Allison deserved an answer, yet I couldn’t give it to her. Not when my life was threatened and every second counted. Mary clattered down the stairs. “Eleanor, I’ve got your bag!”
I didn’t even spare Allison a glance before spurring myself back into the foyer. Mary held out an old black carpetbag. Her hands trembled. “Now what?”
“Now,” I said, turning cautiously to Allison, who hovered in the parlor’s doorway. “Now I leave.”
“No.” Red flared onto Allison’s face. “You can’t just go. I asked you for answers.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat though I actually meant the words. I had wanted to tell her the truth for so long. . . .
I shoved my left hand into my pocket, and withdrawing Jie’s letter, I turned to Mary. “This is where I will be going. I’ll telegraph once I’m in France.”
“France!” Mary cried, taking the envelope. “What’s there?”
“The Spirit-Hunters.” I shot a glance at Allison, but other than a tightening in her jaw, she did not react to this name. I could not help but wonder: did she already know that the Spirit-Hunters had not killed Clarence?
I hefted the carpetbag from Mary’s hands, forcing my mind to remain in the present. “Did you put the emergency money in the bag?”
“Aye. And your brother’s letters too.”
“Good. I’ll be going straight to the wharf.”
“I’ll take you,” Allison inserted. “To the wharf.”
“What?” I spun toward her. “Absolutely not.”
She glared. “Yes. If you are going to run off, I want answers first. You will ride with me.”
I narrowed my eyes, and she matched it with her own stare. Two girls who’d once shared tea and gossip were now bound together by death.
But then it occurred to me that if I accepted a ride, I could move more quickly. I could even say good-bye to Mama, for her hospital was on the way.
Best of all, though, Marcus didn’t know Allison. He wouldn’t recognize her carriage, and I could travel to the wharf unknown. So although part of me felt bad for accepting Allison’s offer under such selfish circumstances, most of me simply wanted to go.
“Fine,” I finally said.
Allison nodded once, and her eyes grazed over Mary. “Where will your maid go?”
“I’ve family in California, Ma’am. Eleanor gave me money for a train weeks ago.”
“You must remember to stay in touch with the solicitor,” I reminded Mary. “Father trusted him, but still—I’d feel better if I knew you telegrammed him regularly. At least until the house sells.”
Mary bowed her head. “Of course.”
“You’re selling the house?” Allison demanded. “Is that how you have enough money for a train ticket?” The look in her eyes—the implication that I’d gotten my money through some nefarious means—set my temper alight.