Too true.
Ada set down her toast. “How awful. There’s no one to trust.”
“Remember that. Suspicion'll keep you safe.”
She stared down at the dark wood of the tabletop, her mood weighed down by frustration. “Our list is growing by the second. Where do we start?”
“The cottage. Someone leased it.”
“Or knew it was unoccupied.”
“Excellent point. Worth pursuing in either case.” He bit his lip and stared up at the ceiling. “My contact at the Yard should have that information. He can—”
“Shhh.” Ada interrupted. “Did you hear that?” A muffled thud, followed by lighter, scrabbling sounds.
“Rats.” Edison shrugged. “Not surprising. Place has been vacant for months.”
Ada shivered.
A sharp bang echoed down the hallway. Even Edison froze.
Ada raised her eyebrows. “Fearsomely large rats.”
“Could be squirrels.” He brushed crumbs off of his shirtfront, but the casual movement didn’t fool her. He was listening hard now. “This morning we need to see my associate at Scotland Yard. There’s that business of your kidnappers to sort out.”
“How will we find out about the—?"
A loud crash, like books thudding to the floor killed off the rest of her thought.
“Not rats.” Edison jumped up. “Stay here.” He grabbed a good-sized frying pan from the pot rack over the stove and bolted toward the front of the house.
*
Edison’s quick thinking had her at a disadvantage. Her brain was still thick with lack of sleep, but her heart raced. She couldn’t sit in the empty kitchen waiting for God-knew-what to bolt through the door. The very thought made her skin crawl.
She needed a weapon.
He’d taken the largest pan. She scanned the room, dismissing the small pairing knife and the tea mugs. The trim saucier with the filigree handle would have to suffice. Ada grabbed it from the hook and chased after him.
He was inching silently toward the front parlor. She tiptoed behind him, the only sound now the rustling of her skirts.
Edison shot her a meaningful glare, which she ignored. The great huff of air he expelled signaled his displeasure with her inability to follow orders.
They crept down the hallway until they came to the first doorway. Edison waved a hand behind him, signaling for her to stop.
She raised the delicate pan high overhead. Edison peered into the first room, then straightened and shook his head. He pointed at the room across the hall.
Nothing in the front parlor, either.
Frying pan at the ready, Edison appeared to be considering the stairway.
The air hung thick and still, as if the house itself didn’t dare exhale. He started up toward the second floor. Careful to pick her skirts up high, Ada stayed right on his heels.
Just as they reached the landing, a dark figure streaked toward the back of the house.
“Got him.” Edison gave chase.
Skirts billowing about her ankles, Ada struggled to keep up. By the time she clattered down the servants’ stairs, her lungs were on fire.
She reached the kitchen just in time to see the dark figure snatch the last of the bread off of the table and sprint out the back door. He was smaller than he seemed upstairs in the dark. And she hadn’t noticed the rucksack slung across his back.
Before Edison could reach him, the slight figure disappeared over the back wall.
Edison latched the door, then ambled back into the kitchen. He stared down at crumbs strewn across the empty table. “I wanted that.”
A weight pressed down on her chest, as if pressing the breath out of her. “Do you think he followed us?”
“No.” Edison headed toward the hallway. “He’s just a street urchin. Had a warm place to bed down until we showed up.”
She prayed he was right. The alternative terrified her.
“If we’d been followed, they would have struck while we were sleeping,” Edison added over his shoulder.
How comforting.
He dove into the library. “He’s been staying here. For quite a while.” He pointed to a chaise in the corner, piled high with blankets. Then he turned to frown at her. “Check your purse.”
“We’ve been here all morning. He wouldn’t be so bold.”
“Care to wager on that?”
Ada ran back up to the dank boudoir. Her purse lay open on the floor below the chest where she’d set it last night. When she picked it up, her stomach churned. Empty. Her change purse, her pencil case, even her silver container of calling cards.
The boy had taken it all.
Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. Silly tears, for her silly card container. In the scheme of things, it mattered not a whit, but she loved that thing. Harrison had presented it to her after her induction into the Chemical Scientists’ Society.
She stared down into the empty bag.
Edison stepped into the room and set a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry about that. Boys like that’ll do anything to survive.”
If one could call bedding down in a deserted mansion without heat or food or companionship surviving. The sad little pile of blankets in the library tugged at her heart.
Suddenly her loss seemed insignificant. “Do you think he’ll return?”
Edison nodded. “He’ll watch the house. Once he’s convinced we’ve scarpered, he’ll be back.”
Absurdly, the thought reassured her. He might be a thief, but the slight build and the youthful energy suggested he was young. And he couldn’t have chosen a life on the streets.
Edison closed in on her. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” she answered automatically, although the sharp lump growing in her throat suggested otherwise.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to prevent the tears from falling.
But then he set his hands on her shoulders, and the dam burst. Ada sucked in a shuddering breath as tears spilled down her cheeks.
“Don’t believe I am,” she managed to mumble before her shoulders started shaking.
Edison wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. At first she stiffened, resisting the contact, but something inside her broke, and she sagged against him, nestling into his arms.
He squeezed her tight and murmured softly at her temple. “We’ll manage this. I’ve been through worse.”
Ada nodded. The sobs were subsiding. His heart beat strong and steady beneath her cheek. She sighed. “Do you think he’s cold?”
“Who?”
“The boy. Do you think he’s got a warm enough coat?”
His chuckle rumbled through her. “We’ll make certain of it. We need clothes anyway. We’ll pick up a few things for the lad, leave them where he’ll be sure to spot them.”
“Thank you.” Ada pressed her forehead against his chest. Her eyes must be red rimmed now, and swollen. To say nothing of her nose and her tear-stained cheeks.
She sighed and pulled slowly out of his arms. “It seems I require a handkerchief.”
With a flourish good enough for a magician, Edison pulled a white square from his pocket and handed it to her. “Milady.”
Besides drying her tears, the handkerchief provided a good excuse to turn away. Never had she felt so vulnerable. So adrift.