Chapter 5
“Ellen!” Hester cried as she raced down the tatty hall of their boring house. “I’ve done it. I’ve done it,” she cried.
Opening the door and dashing into the small home, she looked about the dimly lit space. She wasn’t surprised that there was no fire lit and that it was cold. They didn’t really have the funds for keeping it warm all the time, but her heart was beating fast and she felt triumphant.
Now she and Ellen were going to be able to pursue her dreams, open a shop, and everything would turn around. At long last, everything would be better. There would be no more struggling, no more hardship, and somehow, step by step, they would make a success of it.
She stepped farther into the dark room, looking about, her stomach suddenly turning with worry, and she spotted Ellen sitting in the corner, her shoulders shaking as she faced the damp, stained wall.
“Ellen,” she ventured, her voice changing from excited to fearful. “What is it?”
Ellen buried her face in her wrinkled hands, her wilted mobcap shaking as she trembled. “Nothing, Hester. Nothing,” she whimpered, turning away slightly.
Hester’s mouth dried and her blood iced. “Ellen, there must be something amiss. Why are you sitting in the dark like this?”
Ellen paused and then she sobbed, “I used up the last of the candles, and I was saving some for when you came back.”
“Oh, Ellen,” she breathed, so touched it hurt. “That’s so very kind of you, but I spoke with Captain Briarwood, and everything is going to be fine. He’s going to give us the funds for our shop. Our lives are turning around.”
“Oh, good,” Ellen said from her hands, but she did not lower them from her face.
In the dark, Ellen’s shoulders sagged, and the fact that the good news had not altered her attitude spiked Hester’s concern. Something was terribly wrong. Very, very wrong. A wave of apprehension stole down her spine, and tingles prickled along her neck.
“Ellen?” she asked again softly, taking a tentative step forward.
“Oh, Hester,” Ellen sobbed, shaking her head, “I’m so sorry.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I went out,” Ellen managed. “I had a little extra saved, and I thought I would buy you something just in case you were successful, but that it would also be nice to have a little treat if you were not. A little pick-me-up, so to speak. I thought to get us a pie for dinner, a hot one. It would be so nice to have a pie for our dinner.”
Her stomach clenched, dread filling her, for there could be no good in the tale about to unfold. “What happened?”
Ellen slowly lowered her hands. On the side of her face was a great purple bruise, angry and ripe and pulsing, with a gash down the center.
“Oh, Ellen!” she cried out and dashed forward. She fell to her knees before the woman who had looked after her since she was a little girl. “Who did this? Tell me.”
Ellen’s face crumpled and tears spilled over her worn and wounded face.
“I was bringing the pie home and someone tried to take it from me, but I didn’t want to let them have it.
And then I saw it was but a boy. He couldn’t have been twelve years old.
He was in ratty clothes and he had no shoes.
The state of his teeth…” She shuddered. “I started to give it to him, but before I could, he hit me hard. It was just his hand, but I think he must have had a weapon for it knocked me back so hard and the pain… I fell to the ground. Into one of those horrid puddles on the street. My clothes are soaking and covered in mud and…” A great sob tore from her throat.
“He took our dinner. I’m so sorry that I let him have it. I’m so sorry that I wasted the money.”
Tears filled Hester’s eyes, and she felt a wave of shame so fierce she almost couldn’t breathe. Ellen was apologizing to her when she was the one who had brought Ellen to this life.
“Oh, Ellen, it is I who am sorry. Sorry that I have done this to you.”
Hester took Ellen’s shoulders gently and pulled her towards her, taking the older woman in an embrace. She kissed the top of her head, along her mobcap, as if Ellen was now the little girl.
Hester held her carefully and vowed, “I shall never let anything like this happen to you ever again. You need a physician.”
“I do not,” Ellen insisted. “We can’t afford one anyway. Just a bit of water. That will do it.”
“I will not risk an infection,” Hester returned. “Ellen, your cheek has been cut, and I do not know if I have enough firewood presently to boil water. I thought we would be able to buy everything tomorrow when Captain Briarwood arranged for the first installment in our agreement.”
“I can wait until tomorrow,” Ellen said stoically, wiping her tears with the backs of her hands.
Her old friend was cold, wet, and wounded. They had no heat. They had no light. There was no food…and she needed a physician.
Hester steeled herself. She knew what she had to do. There was really only one thing to be done.
She took Ellen’s hands and drew in a breath. “Come, Ellen, we’re going.”
“Going where?” Ellen demanded, her voice wavering. “We have nowhere to go. Please, please, I don’t want to go to the workhouse.”
“Ellen,” she protested, shocked, “you know that I would never send you to such a place.”
Ellen nodded. “Forgive me. I just feel completely out of sorts. My emotions have overtaken me. I know you would never do such a thing, but you and I have so few places to turn now.”
Hester grabbed the cat who had been sitting in the corner, alarmed by all the emotion, and tucked him into a covered wicker basket they used when they needed to transport him. They were leaving this place. Leaving for good. And she wouldn’t leave Alabaster here.
“Come,” Hester said again, and she put the basket down, then carefully helped Ellen to stand.
The older woman winced as Hester wrapped her own cloak around Ellen’s shoulders.
It did not matter how cold it left her. She was no longer worried about herself.
She had a duty to Ellen. Ellen’s shoulders bowed, a final humiliation in her journey of supporting Hester.
How would she ever be able to show her friend her appreciation for all that she’d given up? She already knew. She’d swallow her pride. Something she should have done long ago.
She’d taken the first step today, but now she needed to jump in. No hesitating, no looking back, no silly pride.
With the cat in his basket in one hand, Hester took Ellen out the door, through the tiny little hallway with the cracked walls and the leaking ceilings and the smell of rot, down the creaking stairs, and out onto the street.
She walked Ellen slowly through the darkening night, avoiding tramps and puddles, until they came to the closest thoroughfare.
She spotted a hackney coming down it and held out her hand.
The hackney pulled up, but the driver, perched in his seat, looked at them quite skeptically. “I don’t do charity rides.”
The horse’s livery jangled as the animal paused for rest.
Hester drew herself up. “I would like you to take me to Heron House.”
“Heron House?” the hackney driver echoed, his face twisting with disbelief. “That’s a good way far off. Not in the city at all, it’s not.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, desperate to convince him. “When you get there, you’ll be paid handsomely.”
The driver’s eyes narrowed, and he shrugged his shoulders under his heavy, mud-stained coat. He eyed the wicker basket dubiously but said nothing. “I don’t know if I should trust that.”
“You’ll be paid,” she said in the most blue-blooded accent she could produce.
She’d let some of it fade over the years, but as she called it back to her, her entire posture changed.
Her energy changed, and standing there in her old clothes, in her boots that had holes, she transformed into a woman that people obeyed.
The man’s eyes flared. “If you say so, miss.”
“It’s not miss,” she countered, arching a brow. “It’s my lady,” she said.
“My lady,” he said apologetically before he tsked sadly. “Well, you look quite down on your luck, my lady.”
He wasn’t wrong, and so she gave him a rueful smile. “I am, but I am returning to those who will give me my luck back, and I promise you will be rewarded handsomely if you take us there.”
“Right then. Get in,” he instructed.
Carefully, she opened the door and handed Ellen in.
She climbed in after her and slammed the door shut.
The hackney rolled into the night. Soon, they would pass through the west of London and head out along the Thames to the beautiful house that she’d visited earlier today.
That she should have brought Ellen to. That she never should have left.
She should have found a way to throw herself at the mercy of the owners.
Deep in her bones, she knew Calchas Briarwood would help her. She had no doubts about that. It had been so easy for him to agree to give her a bit of money. He’d have offered her protection too if she’d asked for it, and now she felt she had no choice but to do just that.
She only wondered what he would ask for in exchange. Perhaps nothing, but she knew, in the end, that one always had to pay their debts. She could go to her parents. It was true she could, but theirs was a price that even she was not willing to pay.
Calchas bounded down the wide stairs in search of his grandmama.
Night had fallen on Heron House, and most of the house had already gone out to the theater, to dinners, to card parties, and other sorts of events.
He had been invited to an art opening, to the theater, to the ballet, and to three balls.
He had declined them all because he was still reeling with the pleasure of the day.
It was hard to describe how it had actually made him feel to do a bit of good. He had completely forgotten that he could have a purpose outside of war, which was completely ludicrous, given the fact that he was surrounded by do-gooders.