Chapter 3 #2
“Ruby—I hope you don’t mind if I call you that?”
She shook her head.
“I’ve had an exceptionally trying day,” Tilly continued, “and I was just about to take tea. Would you join me?”
She shook her head again.
“Well, perhaps if not tea, we could just stand inside the entranceway where it is a great deal warmer than out here? It takes a devilishly long time to heat the rooms, and leaving the door open for long periods will not help with that.”
“Very well.” Ruby stepped inside, and Tilly closed the door.
“Through there is a small office. If you will allow it, we could talk in there. If we stand here, people arriving will interrupt us.”
She was nervous and didn’t want to go into the office. Tilly walked into the room and hoped she followed rather than fleeing because she looked in need of help. She was just taking a seat behind the desk when Ruby appeared.
“Sit. I will not bite, I assure you.”
She did—on the edge of the chair on the other side of the desk.
“Now ask me your questions, Ruby.”
“My sister, Fern—Miss Fern Little—she worked here. One day she didn’t come home.”
“She worked here when it was a lodging house for gentlemen?” Tilly asked.
Ruby nodded.
“That was two years ago. Has your sister been missing since then?”
“Yes. Her duties included cleaning rooms and washing clothes. One day, like I said, she did not return home.”
The woman sat still as a statue as she spoke, no hand-wringing or wriggling.
“And you’ve been looking for her since?”
“I have. The authorities dismissed my concerns, saying Fern had likely run off with a man.” Her eyes shot to the left and then to the right in nervous agitation.
“I came here and asked about her when she didn’t return to our lodgings, but no one would speak to me.
I persisted, but in the end, they refused to open the door to me, and then one month later, the place was empty.
The doors bolted, and the drapes drawn.”
The words were spoken with no emotion, and Tilly knew that wasn’t because she didn’t feel any, but because she was numb to the grief.
A hard shell had formed around it, and Ruby clearly dealt with her pain through composure.
Tilly had firsthand knowledge of this level of grief, even if she’d been a child when she’d experienced it.
Some emotions you never forgot, especially those that felt like your heart was being crushed inside your chest.
“When I realized the building was once again occupied, I approached you.”
“Your parents—”
“Are dead. It was just us. Fern is my older sister.”
Is.
She wanted to believe that even after two years without a word, her sister was alive. It broke Tilly’s heart to see her pain.
Turning to the desk, Tilly picked up her pen, dipped it in the ink, and then began to make notes.
“I’m going to write down what you tell me, and then I will ask people I know if anyone knows your sister, Ruby.”
The small sound that came from her was like that of a wounded animal, but no emotion showed on her face. “I would be g-grateful.”
“Do you think your sister would have left London voluntarily?”
“No. She would never leave me.” The words were a vow.
“All right. Now, do you remember her mentioning any names of people she came into contact with? An employer or someone lodging here? Anything would help.”
Ruby looked down at her hands briefly. “She told me once that she thought things here were not what they seemed.”
“In what way?”
“Fern said there used to be unusual noises coming through the walls and that sometimes she would find bloodied cloths waiting to be washed.”
That was odd, Tilly thought. What reason could there be for bloodied cloths?
“There was always an odd scent inside here too. Fern described it as a very thick, cloying smell.”
There was no reason for the hairs on Tilly’s arms to rise, but they did. She stifled the shudder.
“The only person Fern was allowed to speak with was the butler. She saw others, but was forbidden to talk to them,” Ruby continued, “which is often the way in our world,” she added with the first trace of bitterness in her voice.
“And was she mistreated in any way?”
Fern looked at her hands. “Some men would grab her and say vulgar, suggestive things, but Fern said she always escaped. There was a room downstairs that the butler used to let the maids hide in when men became overly aggressive.”
Bastards.
Ruby continued with her story. “Two maids left suddenly,” she recounted.
“Fern said it was odd, as they’d seemed happy enough, but first one left, and then the other followed suit two months later.
They’d been Fern’s friends and hadn’t mentioned they were thinking of leaving their employment.
She used to worry that something had happened to them. ”
Tilly wrote down everything Ruby told her. She didn’t know what she’d do with this information, but she felt she needed to do something.
This entire story felt off, and she had a sense that Fern had not disappeared of her own accord.
“Where do you live, Ruby?”
“Flower and Dean Street in the East End.”
Tilly kept her expression clear, but the thought of this small, pale woman living in such a place made her weep. Even she had heard of Flower and Dean Street, which was in the heart of the Spitalfields rookery, one of the most notorious slums in London.
“And you live there alone?”
She nodded. “I have a dog,” Ruby added quickly, as if that made everything all right.
“What work do you do?”
“I take in sewing.”
Tread carefully, Tilly, she thought as Ruby lifted her chin. She was feeling threatened, and sometimes pride was all some women had to hold on to.
“Do you really? Are you very busy at the moment? Because I’m in desperate need of someone to help me here.
You see, there are still curtains to be hemmed correctly.
And I have a need for napkins and many other things.
” She saw a flash of excitement in Ruby’s eyes that was just as quickly extinguished.
Hope was a dangerous thing for some people, as it had once been for Tilly.
“In fact, I would like to employ someone full-time to fix torn hems and help out around here. There would also be some cleaning, and the position would be a live-in one.”
Tilly made herself shut up and continue to write notes.
She was often someone who worked on impulse, and something inside her had been screaming at her to help this woman from the moment she’d seen her.
Of course, there was also Margaret to consider if Ruby agreed, as she would have to work with her, but she wanted to do something for this sad and terrified woman.
Was she wrong to offer the position without knowing more about Ruby? Yes, but then had her parents not gone on instinct, Tilly’s life would have differed vastly from the one she lived today.
She’d done things like this before, and sometimes it had not worked out as planned, but looking at the woman before her, she knew she had to do something.
“I-I can’t…” The words fell away as Tilly turned to look at Ruby. “My dog. I will not leave him, you see.”
“Would he be a good guard dog? Because I’ve been thinking about getting one for those purposes. There are plenty who are not happy about this club, Ruby, and a growling dog may deter them should they continue to vandalize the property.”
She watched Ruby struggle with her needs and her pride to understand that someone was suddenly giving her something she’d never believed she’d ever again have. Hope.
“Of course, I expect your dog to be well-behaved and not bite any of our members. The men out there, however”—she waved at the wall behind Ruby—“he is more than welcome to take regular bites out of.”
“Y-yes,” she whispered. “I fear I cannot come for a week, as I have—”
“That will work well,” Tilly assured her, waving her explanation aside. “So, would you like to take up employment in this establishment, Ruby?”
A single tear slid down her cheek. “Yes, please, Miss Wilson,” she whispered. “I would like that very much.”