Chapter 5 #3
“Sarah was odd last night. She was late, so I went to meet her, and when I found her on the bridge she seemed . . . upset. And when I asked why, she said she hadn’t wanted to walk home in the rain because she was afraid of getting sick and losing her position.” I bit my lip.
“You think she was lying to you?” He looked dubious.
“Well, no. I think it was true.” I hated the thought of Sarah lying outright. “But it may also have been a shell for something else.”
He rested his fork and knife on the edge of the plate. “Do you think she might know something about this? Could she have seen something as she walked past the Fairleigh house? Or someone?”
The way he’d arrived so easily at a similar conclusion meant I wasn’t over-worrying. I was likely worrying just enough. “It’s possible, isn’t it?”
He put up two hands to caution me that it wasn’t the only explanation. “Whatever she was hiding from you—if she was hiding anything—it might have nothing to do with this.”
I snicked my tongue in frustration. “If the article had given the address, I’d at least know if it was on her way home.”
James’s silence made my gaze return to him. His hazel eyes were on mine, watchful. “Almost seems that if Sarah did see someone, it would have to be someone she knew, wouldn’t it?”
“For her to bother taking notice of him?”
“For her to bother hiding it from you,” he corrected me.
A spike of fear ran down my spine. “You mean she might’ve seen someone she recognized. A Castle man in Mayfair. And she’d know he didn’t belong.”
“Can you ask her outright?” he asked. “If she did see someone, it’s likely eating at her. She’d probably be relieved to tell you.”
I looked at the mantel clock. “Not tonight. It’s too late. But I could try tomorrow. Though if I cause trouble for her by going to the house, she’ll be furious.”
We were silent for a long minute. At last, he pointed his chin toward my supper. “Are you not hungry?”
I looked down at my plate.
James folded his napkin and set it aside. “Then I’ll take you home.”
The very absence of resentment threw a wave of regret over me. He’d spent his hard-earned money to bring me to a nice restaurant, with music and a fine meal. It should have been a lovely time. But I couldn’t think of what to say about it. I couldn’t apologize for my fears.
He held my coat so I could slide my arms in, donned his own, bid his friends good night, and followed me out into the street. At the corner, he raised his hand for a cab, helped me in, and got in afterward.
I sat staring out the window, desperate to see Sarah for just thirty seconds, long enough to ask one question, though logically it made no difference if I saw her tonight or early tomorrow. She was safe in her bed in a West End house with other people and a servants’ door with a metal bolt.
James let me be as we rolled toward Elephant and Castle. Perhaps he sensed the wave of anger rising inside me, anger toward myself for having let Sarah convince me nothing was wrong. A groan escaped me. Every time I loosened my grip on the reins of my worry, something bad happened.
“What?” he asked.
“I wish I had enough money she didn’t have to go to work,” I muttered.
“Wouldn’t keep her safe.”
I glared at him. “That’s a bloody awful thing to say.”
“Is it?” he asked, his voice subdued. The cab was dark, his face shadowed, his expression invisible.
“I hate the thought of losing people I love, Kit. It scares me more than dying. But I don’t care how much money we have.
We can’t always keep the people we love safe.
” His voice fell, as if the weight of the thought dragged his spirits low.
“I’d like to think so, but it’s just an artful dodge I’m playing on myself. ”
The rawness in his voice melted my anger and put a burn into the back of my throat that I couldn’t swallow down.
We reached the far side of the bridge.
“How could she not tell me?” I asked, my voice cracking over the words. “She’s never lied to me outright before. She knows I can’t bear a lie. Not from someone I love.”
He didn’t reply.
The hansom jolted over a pitted patch in the macadam, and my hand came up to the leather loop strap. The edges were frayed and sticky from other palms, but I didn’t let go.
The more I considered, the more my imagined version of the previous evening seemed plausible: Sarah coming from Mayfair—the streets well lit—and by one gas lamp’s light, seeing a Castle man, perhaps on the corner or coming toward her on the pavement.
I shivered.
Would she have known not to speak to him? To turn away? Or God forbid, would she have greeted him? Had they come face-to-face?
If it was a Castle man, he likely never intended to commit murder; it was the surest way to draw police attention.
It had started as a robbery—but once the servants had seen him—well, he’d have no choice.
But the murders would be discovered, an investigation mounted, and if he’d seen Sarah, he knew she’d suspect him.
He’d kill Sarah to keep her quiet.
My left hand clawed the edge of the seat, and James put his on top of it. The warmth of his showed me how cold mine were.
“Wait till you talk to her before you go too far down that road,” he said.
I managed a nod, and he removed his hand from mine. He remained quiet all the way to the inn, where we dismounted and he paid the driver. I looked at him uncertainly. Wasn’t he going back to Fleet Street?
“I’m staying with Emma. She’s expecting me.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Good night, Kit. Try not to worry. Sarah’s a sensible girl.” With that, he turned away, vanishing into the shadows.
But Emma’s was in the other direction.
Full of misgiving, I picked up my skirts and followed. As I rounded the corner, a strong hand came out and grasped my arm.
I yanked back—until I saw it was James.
“Where are you going?” I hissed. “You can’t ask about Sarah—”
“Jaysus, Kit!” He rolled his eyes skyward as if I was being ridiculous. “What do you take me for?”
My voice hardened. “This is serious, James. I need you to promise you won’t—”
Every bit of humor vanished from his face. “When have I ever betrayed you, or been unfair? When did I ever fail you? Or arrive too late?”
The fierceness of it startled me, and I stepped backward for space to sift my memories of our badger dodges.
Foremost of my recollections was laughing with him afterward.
But he wasn’t wrong. He had never let the mark get beyond a kiss or two, and he’d always made me take more than half the poke.
“You’re doing most of the work,” he’d say. “It’s only fair.”
The way he looked now, his eyes deadly serious and fixed on mine, gave me a peculiar feeling, like the pivoting of a small screw, a gear of a watch slipping a quarter turn under my fingers.
Was it possible I’d been wrong about him—or had he changed from what I once knew, and I was just noticing?
Was this what Sarah had been trying to tell me?
“Didn’t I?” he asked. “Keep you safe?”
“Yes.” It came out barely above a whisper.
His expression eased. “Then trust me now. I’m not going to ask anything, and I won’t mention Sarah. I’m just going to listen.”
I swallowed. “Listen where?”
“Caleb’s game,” he said. “Half the Castle men will be there. If I hear anything, I’ll send you word.”
“All right.”
“Go home,” he said. “Sarah’s safe for tonight.”
As he dropped his hand from my arm, I nodded again.
“I’m going.” I took a few steps, but as I heard his footsteps fade, I returned to the shadows to watch.
Across the street, he swung open the door to the staircase that led up to the rooms where Caleb ran his spieler.
There James paused. By the light in the stairwell, I saw him in profile, and his right arm down, he spread his hand, all five fingers wide.
It had been our signal, during our badger days, that the dodge was on, that I needn’t worry.
But the very fact that James could walk into that game, without a second thought to wonder if they’d welcome him, meant he was still a Castle man.