Chapter 20
Thalia stared up at the ceiling in a mulish defiance. The clock in the corner must have reached twelve, although it was too dark to see it now. She could light a candle, but that would wake her up for sure.
She hadn’t yet given up on falling asleep. Somewhat angrily, she rolled onto her side, bringing the tangled blankets with her. After a moment of lying there, determinedly squeezing her eyes shut, she let out a low, irritated growl.
It was no good. Sleep wasn’t coming for her that night. With a sigh, she sat up, lighting the candle beside her bed.
The day’s events played over and over in her head. She thought about how Christian had looked when she’d said that name. Sophie. Who was the woman? An old friend? An old lover?
Best not to think about that. The idea of Christian taking a lover made anger surge in her chest. That was ridiculous because a man like him would certainly have had lovers. Why not? After all, gentlemen were allowed to do as they liked, assuming they were discreet about it.
For example, Lord Cunningham, a portly, fat-faced man with an almost comically thin, spindly-looking wife, was well-known to frequent opera houses. That by itself wasn’t a crime, but bringing the opera dancers home certainly was frowned upon. The man had a string of lovers; everybody knew that.
But poor Lady Cunningham had no such freedom. When she went to the opera house with her husband, even to watch an ordinary play, she had to sit tight-lipped and straight-backed as her husband leered over the dancers.
It wasn’t fair, but those were the rules.
Thalia slipped out of bed, her nightgown swaying around her. She moved over to the window, peering down at the dark lawn.
I can’t sleep, and I can’t do anything except pace my room. Jonathan doesn’t like me wandering around the house after we’ve all gone to bed. I bet Christian goes where he likes and does what he wants.
It wasn’t fair. Freedom was just given to men, whereas women didn’t get a chance.
I am not stupider than a man. I am not more cowardly. Why can’t I be free, too? Why can’t I demand answers?
Abruptly, Thalia turned away from the window, shaking a little. She tore off her nightgown and hastily changed into a plain brown wool dress that she rarely wore. She pulled on sturdy boots which were only considered suitable for long walks and shrugged on a dark cloak.
After a moment, she reconsidered and took off the boots. She would put them on when she was outside.
And just like that, she was ready. She leaned over and blew out the candle. She stood in the darkness for a moment, breathing heavily, letting her eyes adjust.
Am I really going to do this?
Yes, it seems that I am.
She slipped out of her room, stockinged feet padding along the hallways.
A night-footman would be sitting in the front foyer, but it was easy enough to avoid him.
She took the back staircase and went through the kitchens.
One of the back doors was easy to unlatch, and she hoped it would still be unlatched by the time she got home.
She crossed the garden, tiptoed around the side of the house, and then stepped into the main street.
A shiver rolled through her.
I’m out on the streets. At midnight. A woman alone.
Now for the hard part. She peered up and down the street, looking for a carriage.
Cabs for hire generally patrolled up and down the streets. She’d seen them go by, and they appeared to be easy to flag down. She’d even seen women clamber into them before. Seldom women alone, yes, but still. Perhaps a nice-looking cab would suit her.
Just as she thought that, a black cab began to trundle down the street towards her, pulled by a dirty brown horse. Thalia nervously lifted her hand, and the cab slowed.
A man peered down from layers of cloaks, eyes glinting from beneath a battered top hat. “You’re out alone, missy,” he leered. “Going somewhere?”
A cold shiver skittered down her spine.
I’ve made a mistake.
“No, sorry,” she managed weakly. “I made a mistake.”
The man didn’t pull away. He leaned forward, his head extending from the nest of cloaks like a tortoise inching out of its shell.
He had a thin, gaunt neck, and his mouth seemed to pull inwards, as if he didn’t have many teeth and his gums were eating themselves.
With the butt of his whip, he shoved his hat a few inches up on a greasy forehead.
“Now, does anybody know you’re out here, missy?” he asked.
Thalia tightened her jaw. She couldn’t remember anyone ever calling her missy. She was Lady Thalia or just Thalia. Missy made her feel small and childish.
That was probably the intention.
“Yes, of course.” The lie sprang to her lips without her even deciding to tell it.
The man grunted. “Tell you what, you hop up beside me. I’ve got a nice blanket here, and we can sit together all cozy.
I’ll take you where you want to go, and you needn’t give me any money.
How about that? I bet you don’t have much money, but I’ll take you there, never mind a few detours on the way. What do you think about that, eh?”
“No, thank you,” she responded crisply. “You’re very kind, but—”
“Now, you listen here,” he interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, angry hiss. “You get up on this seat, or I’ll clamber down and drag you up, you hear?”
If I turn and run back to the house, will he follow me? And if he does, can I outrun him? Should I try?
“No, thank you,” she insisted, body braced to run. A cold breeze tugged at her cloak. “Move on, please, sir.”
“Move on, she says,” the driver growled, setting aside his whip and shuffling to the edge of his seat. “I’ll teach you to tell me what to do, girl.”
Before Thalia could break into a run, a crack echoed through the air. Both she and the driver froze. Then there was a second crack, and the driver screamed, clapping his hand against his cheek. Blood welled up through his fingers.
“You move on, friend!” boomed an unfamiliar voice from behind.
Flinching, Thalia spun around. A second cab had come rumbling up, unnoticed, while she argued with the lecherous driver. This man held a whip in his hand, poised. She was sure that the end was tinged with blood. He pointed it warningly at the lecherous man.
“You leave her alone, you hear! And this is my patch, you know that! Piss off!”
The driver snarled out a curse and scrambled back to his seat. Seizing the reins, he spat in Thalia’s direction—she was fairly sure that the spit didn’t even clear the cab but just landed on his seat—and then drove off.
Thalia watched him go, heart pounding. She felt sick. When he was gone, she glanced tentatively up at her savior.
This driver was dressed much the same, with layered cloaks around his shoulders and a top hat. He was a large man, even under all the layers, with wide shoulders and a round, pleasant face. Clicking his tongue, he dragged his gaze away from the receding cab and back down to Thalia.
“Well,” he said, “you’re lucky I turned up when I did. Old Tom isn’t a respectable man. I wouldn’t want a daughter of mine to get into his cab, not even if she had to walk ten miles otherwise.”
“Yes, I suspect I’m something of a fool,” Thalia responded, voice shaking.
The driver chuckled. “You’re too young to be out alone. Frankly, I don’t think that any women ought to be out at night, not in London. Now, have you money for a cab fare home?”
“I have money for a cab fare, but I’m not going home.”
The man sighed. “Well, you had better come with me, girl. It’s up to you whether you want to wait for another cab, but you’ll not get better than me.”
Thalia bit her lower lip. “I… I suppose I’d better.”
He nodded. “Now, it’s up to you whether you want to climb inside or sit beside me. It’s warmer inside, but you can keep a better eye on your surroundings if you sit beside me.”
Thalia considered and decided that she didn’t want to be locked up in the cab.
“I’ll sit beside you,” she decided.
The driver gave her a hand, and she managed to haul herself up onto the high seat beside him.
It was the first time she’d ever sat on a driving seat.
Jonathan never allowed it. He had a fine, high-sprung phaeton, but he never took her with him.
She was allowed to ride but never to drive, which was a shame because she thought that driving looked interesting.
The driver didn’t talk much to her, collecting the reins in his hands. He glanced at her and smiled. “Where are we going, then, girl?”
“T-T-Thornhill Abbey if you please.”
The driver stared at her for a long moment, then threw back his head, laughing. “Oh, lass! I should have known. A pretty thing like you, so genteel, out alone! I might as well tell you that I’ve delivered many pretty young women to that address over the years.”
Color rushed to Thalia’s face. She cleared her throat, folding her arms angrily. “I am not a woman of ill-repute if that’s what you’re saying!”
“I am making no accusations, don’t you worry. I’m a discreet man, and in any case, I don’t fancy judging others. The Good Book warns us what happens if we judge others and don’t love our neighbors, and that’s all there is to it. You can live your life, and I’ll leave mine.”
That seemed fair.
The driver clicked his tongue, flicked the reins, and off they went. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and smiled.
“See, that whip is only for show. And for whipping people, of course. People generally deserve it, but my horses don’t.”
Thalia chuckled and leaned back in the seat. Some of her anxiety began to fizzle away. The driver seemed a kindly, paternal sort who meant her no harm.
The dangerous part is done. Or is it?
Now, she had to confront Christian.
As they drew closer to the abbey, her nerves returned. Anxiety coiled in her gut, fluttering like countless butterflies. She leaned forward, tugging her shawl around her. Gradually, she became aware that the driver was looking at her.
“You seem nervous,” he noted after a while. “Are you looking forward to meeting this fellow or not? Because if you’re not, I can take you straight home, no trouble.”
“It’s not an assignation,” Thalia insisted, although she was not entirely sure what else it could be. “It’s just a… just a meeting.”
Well, that is lame, isn’t it?
The driver chuckled but said nothing in response. She thought she saw a warm, almost affectionate look in his eyes.
“Well, we’re only young once,” he murmured.
She was not entirely sure what that meant and decided against asking for clarification.
At last, they reached the bend that led to Thornhill Abbey. Through the iron gates, there would be a long, cobbled drive, winding all the way up to the house.
“Can you… can you stop for a moment?” Thalia burst out, reddening a little. “Just so I could gather my thoughts. You see, I’m not exactly expected.”
The driver lifted an eyebrow but said nothing, quietly guiding the cab over to a shadowy spot by the side of the road.
“Not expected?” he murmured softly. “What does that mean?”
She reddened further. “I need to speak with him. I might as well tell you now that there is nothing romantic about this visit. Nothing at all. It’s another matter entirely.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I hate to contradict a lady, but I might as well tell you that over the years, I’ve taken probably hundreds of young ladies to visit their beaus.
Some cab drivers are unsavory fellows. You should know this; you encountered one.
But I have a reputation for treating women properly.
As I said, I have daughters of my own and a fine wife.
So, more often, they choose me. Sometimes gentlemen will hire me to bring their lady-friends, fiancées, or wives to them.
Sometimes the ladies will ask me themselves.
But they all have one thing in common. They all have the same look in their eyes as you do.
Excitement, nerves, determination. Oh, some of them sit beside me, some sit in the cab, but it’s all the same.
You see, a woman going on a… an adventure is an easy thing to spot. ”
Thalia gaped for a moment, struggling to find the words.
“You are impertinent,” she said, somewhat weakly.
He gave her a faintly amused look. “Impertinent but not wrong, my dear.”
“I am not on the sort of adventure you’re talking about. I am not!”
“Ah, my mistake then,” he said breezily, turning forward and seizing the reins. “In that case, you’ll be ready to go on up and meet your friend, whom you look at just like a brother. Isn’t that right?”
While Thalia was trying to come up with something, anything, to say, movement caught her eye.
A large black horse came trotting down the driveway.
A man sat in the saddle, broad-shouldered, familiar despite his voluminous riding cape.
He barely glanced their way, and she was sure he could not see the cab in the shadows.
The man was, of course, Christian. He turned, trotting away in the opposite direction, quickly gathering speed and moving to a brisk canter.
“Oh, bother,” she hissed, leaning forward. “That’s him!”
“Ah,” the driver sighed. “Well, you did say you weren’t expected. Back home, then? Or is it an urgent meeting?”
“Rather urgent, I’d say,” she mumbled, staring miserably at Christian’s retreating back.
A thought occurred to her, and she glanced meditatively at the driver.
He cleared his throat. “No.”
“I haven’t even asked you anything yet.”
“And yet the answer is no.”
“Oh, please,” she begged. “We could catch up with him if you set off now.”
The driver grumbled under his breath and bunched up the reins in his hands. “Me and my soft heart,” he growled good-naturedly. “I hope you know you’re paying for this.”
“I have money. Just don’t let him out of your sight. This really is very important.”
“Yes, yes, you mentioned how very important it was to find this man in the dead of night, for whom you have no feelings whatsoever. Perfectly normal.”
She decided not to respond to that.
They had just begun to gain on Christian when, quite without warning, he broke into a dead gallop. He rode faster and faster, and the cab struggled to keep up. The wheels rattled, and the horses sweated.
The driver swore under his breath. “It’s no good,” he puffed. “We’ll not catch him. Not at this speed.”
“I don’t want to catch him. I just want to keep him in sight.”
The driver shot her a tired look but did not slow down the horses. On they rode.