Chapter 9
Nathaniel peered out of the window as their hired brougham rattled into Clerkenwell.
The gas lamps flickered weakly here, proving no match against the encroaching darkness.
Clenching his jaw, he scanned the maze of narrow streets and alleys, the tightly packed houses and crooked lanes, his senses alert for any sign of danger.
Once a village on the outskirts of London, Clerkenwell had long since been swallowed by the city’s relentless sprawl. By day it held a strange mix of characters—respectable artisans, tradesmen, and watchmakers on the wider avenues—but at night, the rougher edges emerged.
The smell of coal smoke and refuse assaulted his nose. A drunkard stumbled across the street in front of them, earning a curse from the driver and a flick of the reins. Nathaniel’s mouth set in a grim line.
“I could have come by myself. This is no place for you,” he said without looking at Alice. She sat opposite him, her face hidden in the shadows of her cloak, but he could feel the steel in her gaze.
“Further proof that you have indeed gone soft since your retirement. This isn’t even the most dangerous place we have visited.”
He raked a hand through his hair. Damn it, she wasn’t wrong.
She rarely was when it came to their work.
There had been a time when he wouldn’t have thought the dangerous neighborhood was too much for Alice.
In fact, the danger would have thrilled them both.
They’d faced down armed spies in Vienna and outwitted French agents in Paris, always side by side. Equal partners.
Now, he seemed to be going soft, as Alice suggested.
Or maybe he was getting too old for this, he found the adventure of spying didn’t seem as exciting anymore.
The thought of Alice in harm’s way was especially unbearable.
But he knew Alice would not countenance being coddled.
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
“So what if I have changed? If my preferences have shifted?” He gestured around them.
“This used to feel like a grand adventure, but we are not in our twenties anymore. As I’ve gotten older, I’m more aware of the dangers.
The risks we take on every single mission.
I feel the responsibility to protect us heavier upon my shoulders.
I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. ”
“So you would rather I wait meekly at home while you frighten the poor woman out of her wits?” Her voice was calm, reasonable—infuriatingly so. “If she’s alone and terrified, a man pounding on her door might send her fleeing into the night. She needs a woman’s reassurance.”
She was right, and he had absolutely no argument against that reasoning.
“You’re impossible,” he muttered.
A hint of a smile curved her lips. “A bit late to be so overprotective, don’t you think? After all, I’ve been on my own for the past five years. You have not even been aware of what dangers I’ve faced, much less been there to protect me.”
That last statement cut deep. Not only had she exposed his failure to protect her as a husband should. But how could he let her go on her own again after this mission? He’d be forever worried about her.
The thought was unbearable.
There was no more time to contemplate his dilemma, for the carriage jerked to a halt on a narrow cobbled street lined with soot-streaked terraced houses.
Nathaniel climbed down first, scanning their surroundings.
An old crone sat on a step, her head wrapped in a shawl, rheumy eyes following them with interest.
“A few coins might loosen her tongue,” Alice murmured and he nodded.
It worked. The woman sat on her doorstep day and night, and few things escaped her notice.
A heavily pregnant woman who was newly arrived in the neighborhood was notable enough to warrant her attention.
The woman spat out a house number, wiping her hand on her skirts before clutching the silver Nathaniel pressed into her palm.
The house in question was farther down the street, on the opposite side from the old crone’s.
It sagged slightly to one side, and its windows were dark and unwelcoming.
He rapped sharply on the door. No answer. He knocked again. From inside came the faintest scuffle, the hurried tread of feet, then a crash. Alice and he exchanged a charged glance. Instinct surged, and Nathaniel threw his weight against the door. It splintered inward.
The smell hit him first—iron and sweat, fear and blood. Alice’s boots squelched as they stepped into the narrow hallway, guns drawn against possible assailants. A dark stain spread across the boards, leading toward a back room where muffled cries broke the silence.
Sorrow gripped his throat as he feared they had arrived too late. Someone had gotten to the widow first, and if she wasn’t dead yet, judging by the amount of blood and the whimpering sounds coming from the room, she would be soon.
But when they entered the room, the sight that met their eyes was much different than what he had expected, if no more reassuring.
She was there. Mrs. Phipps. The young widow’s face was pale as milk, sweat plastering pale, limp hair to her temples.
But she didn’t seem to be bleeding from any wounds.
Rather, she knelt on the floor, clutching her belly, a soiled blanket beneath her. Her eyes darted up, wild with terror.
“Stay back!” she gasped. “Don’t hurt me—please!”
Alice was already moving, putting away her gun. Sinking to her knees beside her. “Mrs. Phipps, we’re not here to harm you. My name is Alice. This is Nathaniel. We’re with the Foreign Office. We want to help you.”
Nathaniel crouched behind Alice, his hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him. “Get a doctor. Quickly.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second.
He didn’t want to leave the women here alone.
Unprotected. But it was obvious it was too late to remove the widow to another location.
And she needed a doctor or midwife urgently.
He nodded sharply and raced toward the carriage still parked outside, his boots pounding down the hall.
Alice turned back to the widow, concern and pity twisting in her gut at the sight of the young, terrified woman in such desperate straits. “You’re safe now. Help is on the way.”
Whatever Mrs. Phipps saw in Alice must have reassured her somehow, for the smallest glimmer of hope shone in her eyes, and her hand clutched Alice’s as if holding on to a lifeline.
Another spasm took hold of her, and she doubled over, panting as she clutched her belly. Alice tried to soothe her as much as she could. God, how could she help this woman if Nathaniel didn’t return soon with a doctor or midwife? She knew next to nothing about pregnancy or the birth of a baby.
But she knew that the bed was more comfortable than the cold, hard floor. The least she could do was get Mrs. Phipps comfortable.
When the spasm subsided, she helped the widow to stand. “Here, let me help you to your bed, Mrs. Phipps. You’ll be more comfortable there.”
The young widow nodded and stood with Alice’s help. “Call me Clara,” she said, taking a few labored steps to the bed, before collapsing gratefully on it.
After that, time blurred between Clara’s labor pains.
It felt like hours, but it was probably not even an hour yet since Nathaniel had departed.
In the meantime, she busied herself doing all she could.
She fetched water, wiped the woman’s brow, murmured reassurances.
And silently prayed that Nathaniel would return soon with the doctor.
In the breathless lulls between pain, Mrs. Phipps talked.
“My Tommy…he wasn’t a bad man,” she whispered.
“One mistake… They blackmailed him. Forced him to pass messages. Steal documents. He wanted to stop. He planned to tell someone—but they killed him.” Fresh tears spilled from the woman’s face, and Alice remembered it wasn’t even a month since her husband had been assassinated and she had been forced to run.
Alone. Scared. Pregnant. Alice’s heart twisted at what this woman had suffered.
But the best way to protect her now was to catch the people who did this to her and her husband. “Did he ever say who forced him?”
The widow shook her head weakly. “Only… ‘Lord A.’ That’s all I know.
I don’t think even Tommy knew the identity of his tormentor.
He would always describe the man as a shadow.
A hooded figure.” A sob wracked her body.
“I thought if I delivered the last package at the Black Swan, they might leave me alone. But then I saw that man—Dimitri, Tommy called him. I caught him searching my home the day after Tommy died.” She stopped on a sob.
“Our eyes met, and I saw murder in them. That’s when I knew for sure Tommy’s death had not been an accident.
He skulked away that time, for there were other people in the house, but I knew he’d come back for me.
Because I had seen him. That’s why I ran.
I grabbed what I could and left my house before he could come back. ”
“You were right to run,” Alice said gently.
“But they’ll find me. Sooner or later, they will find me. They know I’m a threat, a loose end. They are powerful. They are everywhere. They know everything.”
“You’re not alone anymore,” Alice soothed her, wiping her brow, which seemed much too hot. “My superior is a powerful man as well. We can protect you.”
The widow clutched Alice’s hand. “You can’t. But my baby… Please, promise me you’ll save my baby.”
“I swear it, dear. You need not worry about a thing but delivering your baby. We’ll protect you both.”
It was nearly midnight when Nathaniel returned, a breathless doctor in tow.
By then, Alice had grown frantic with worry as the birthing pains were coming so close together and she was absolutely at a loss about what to do.
She gratefully guided the doctor in, thinking things would improve now that a competent doctor was in charge.
Instead, everything got worse. So much worse.
The birth was long, messy, and harrowing.
The cramped room smelled of sweat and blood, Clara’s cries echoing off bare walls.
Nathaniel waited in the tiny front parlor, pacing like a caged animal.
She could hear the floor creaking under his boots.
Every once in a while, she would come out to report on the progress… or lack thereof.
Then, at last—a baby’s cry. Alice exhaled sharply, sagging against the wall. Surely now everything would get better.
Except it wasn’t over. Clara’s pains didn’t stop, and soon, the doctor announced there was another baby.
Twins? Oh, God. Could Clara survive another such difficult birth? Alice continued to press cool clothes against the woman’s forehead, which seemed to get hotter as time went by. She was bleeding so much. Her strength leaving her like water from a broken pail.
She grabbed the first baby. A boy. Cleaned and swaddled him as best she could with a clean small blanket she found folded inside the wardrobe, which contained the meager preparations the widow had been able to make for the arrival of her baby.
Alice took the baby to the mother, whose gaze had become unfocused and distant with pain, fever, and blood loss.
But at the nearness of the baby, she summoned a bit of strength and smiled at the child.
“It’s a boy,” Alice said.
“My beautiful baby. So tiny and helpless.” A tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and disappeared into her hairline.
Alice brought the baby to Nathaniel, her face grave. “Here,” she said, placing the baby in his arms. “There’s another. Twins.” She left a stupefied Nathaniel holding a baby as she returned to the widow’s side.
By the time the second child entered the world, Mrs. Phipps was spent.
Her breath rattled. “The papers…” she whispered.
“Loose floorboard…under the dresser…you’ll find them there.
Tommy’s journal, letters. Please…save my babies.
They have no one.” She used the last of her strength to grasp Alice’s hand as she pleaded for her babies.
“You have my word,” Alice murmured, holding her gaze as tears burned her eyes.
With a final, shuddering breath, Mrs. Phipps stilled, her grasp loosening. Alice looked at the doctor, who touched a hand to Clara’s wrist, then her neck and somberly shook his head.
Still numb with shock, Alice wrapped the second baby, a girl, in another clean blanket, the way she had done with the boy.
Then she placed her gently in a wicker basket she found in the house, lined with a pillow and blanket.
Another one of the preparations Clara had made.
She grabbed the handle and came to Nathaniel, who still paced with the tiny baby in his arms. The baby was too quiet.
“Is the baby well?” she inquired.
“He’s sleeping,” her husband replied, placing him in the basket next to his sister.
“Clara didn’t make it,” Alice announced somberly, and Nathaniel cursed under his breath. “We need to move quickly. They need nourishment and care. I promised their mother I would take care of them.”
“Shall we go to Dalton’s?”
Alice shook her head. “No, I have a better idea.”
Nathaniel’s eyes met hers, and he nodded once. “Take the carriage. Get them to safety. I’ll handle matters here.”
“Clara said there are documents hidden in a loose floorboard under the dresser.” Alice heard her own voice as if from a distance. Low, monotone, numb with shock. “Her husband’s journal and some letters. Make sure to retrieve them.”
“I will.” Nathaniel took a step toward her, as if he wanted to add more, but in the end, he just said, “Take care, Alice.”
With a last glance and a quick nod, she turned, grabbed the basket, and left the home with her precious charges.