Chapter 21 Take what? Where?
Having donned her coat and hat, Luna returned to the sidewalk, cradling something gently in her hands. Mr. Grimm gave her a look as she drew near. “What do you have there?” he asked.
Luna held up her find for his inspection. “Houndsnose!” she declared. “Fresh from Garden. I thought I’d spied a cluster of them yesterday.”
It was a flower—a wild flower with a sturdy stalk and a big yellow blossom shaped like a long snout. It smelled a bit like wet dog but was pretty enough, and Luna happened to know it made an excellent tea for the treatment of bunions. But that was not to the point just now.
Despite Mr. Grimm’s deepening look of concern, Luna plunked the flower—complete with its whole root system, carefully preserved—down on the sidewalk, just where the dirt trail left by the tiger lily petered out.
“Watch,” Luna said and held her breath with anticipation.
She’d already taken time to secure the wildflower’s stalk with a leash of floral twine, which she gripped firmly with one hand.
With the other, she made a little flapping motion.
“Go on,” she murmured encouragingly. “Sniff it out, boy, there’s a good houndsnose. ”
The flower sat on its thick taproot for a moment.
Then, slowly, the yellow blossom began to twitch with interest. It bowed its petals and began nosing—for want of a better word—along the sidewalk.
Suddenly, one arrow-shaped leaf flicked upright like a tail on alert.
With a sudden burst of energy, the flower lurched down the sidewalk, tugging at the leash.
“There!” Luna cried, and turned a triumphant grin to her employer. “I’ll take it from here, Mr. Grimm!”
“Take what? Where?”
“I’ll follow the houndsnose, let it lead me to the tiger lily. I’ll be back with both of them before closing with any luck.”
Mr. Grimm’s expression shifted from bewilderment to deep concern. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be seen traipsing around the city with . . . with an animate flower on a leash.”
Luna shrugged. “No one pays attention to what anyone else is doing here in Eastside. They’re all much too busy with their own business.”
Even as she said it, a delivery boy on a bicycle zoomed by, ringing his bell loudly, followed soon after by a trio of gentlemen in smart overcoats, carrying on an intense conversation—mumble-mumble-the-economy-mumble—never casting so much as a glance at Luna, her employer, or the flower straining at the end of her floral twine.
She lifted an eyebrow in a silent, See what I mean?
Mr. Grimm looked unconvinced. He sighed, however, and said, “Very well, Miss Talbot. But I’m coming with you.”
“Oh, no need, Mr. Grimm! I’m quite certain I can—”
“Our missing lily was in hot pursuit of Lord Bruxley, who has shown you demonstrative disrespect.” Mr. Grimm’s face took on stern lines, a contrast with his habitually shy demeanor. “I don’t want you trailing after that man and inadvertently giving him ideas.”
Luna snorted. “That man doesn’t need any help forming ideas all on his own.”
“Even more reason for me to accompany you.”
She opened her mouth to remind him of what she’d declared only minutes ago, about her ability to fend for herself .
. . but Mr. Grimm was already sprinting back to the shop.
In short order, he’d called to Debbie, “Watch over things, will you?” flipped the sign to CLOSED, and locked the door.
He slipped the key into his waistcoat pocket as he hastened to rejoin Luna and the houndsnose. “Shall we?”
Luna hadn’t the heart to reject such determined chivalry. She turned her attention to the flower and said, “Go on! Find the lily, boy.”
“Boy?” Mr. Grimm queried as they set off at a trot, pursuing the animate plant. It moved with a strange, root-legged gait, not quite like anything in the animal kingdom, but quick.
“It feels like a boy to me.” Luna shrugged, and added crooningly, “A very good boy, then!”
The leaf-like tail, still on alert, wagged slightly in response.
But the nose-blossom remained close to the ground, and Luna could almost swear she heard sniffing sounds, actual sniffing sounds, despite the noise of the automagic cars zipping by.
The plant led them up Addle Street, took a turn onto Pembroke, then paused for a long sniff around the base of a streetlamp.
Luna feared it might be distracted by the interesting aromas left behind by city dogs, but then her eye chanced to glimpse a sliver of orange speckles.
Gasping, she crouched and plucked the tiger lily petal from the faded sidewalk bricks. She held it up for Mr. Grimm to see. His brow furrowed with deep concern. “We’re on the right track, at least,” Luna said.
“I only hope there will be something left of the fool flower by the time we find it.” Mr. Grimm shook his head bleakly. “Tiger lilies have no sense of self-preservation.”
The houndsnose wasn’t keen to leave the lamppost, but Luna tugged it in a few different directions until it seemed to catch the scent again.
It set off in a hurry, directly toward the busy intersection of Addle and Pembroke.
“No!” Luna protested, yanking the flower back before it was crushed beneath a passing automagic mobile. “We can’t cross here!”
“There.” Mr. Grimm pointed to the other end of Pembroke where a crosswalk lay. Luna picked up the houndsnose—which whined piteously and wriggled in her grip—and they hastened to the crosswalk.
When the light turned, signaling for them to cross, Mr. Grimm tucked a hand through Luna’s elbow.
Luna tried not to notice. It was, after all, such a simple gesture, not really worth attention.
And yet, despite her protestations of self-sufficiency, she couldn’t help a little warm flush of pleasure at that small sign of gentlemanly protection.
It was rather nice, she admitted in the privacy of her heart, to have someone looking out for her again.
Even over something as mundane as crossing the street.
When they reached the other side, Mr. Grimm did not immediately remove his hand either.
Luna felt rather unduly conscious of the warmth of his grip as they made their way back down the far sidewalk, until they stood across from the lamppost once more.
Only when she bent to put the houndsnose back down did he let her go, and Luna discovered she rather missed the slight pressure of his fingers.
But she hastily shook off that feeling and focused on the matter at hand.
The houndsnose began sniffing noisily up and down the sidewalk.
It soon caught the scent again and charged around the bend onto St. Aldate’s, then a few more winding turns, before beginning the uphill climb onto King Kybald Row, where the trolley cars ran on thaumatically-charged lines.
At least Lord Bruxley seemed to have stuck to sidewalks for the most part .
. . unless the tiger lily had given up its pursuit of Lord Bruxley.
How could they possibly guess? It might be wandering at random even now, stalking a new victim.
Hopefully it wouldn’t give some poor, unsuspecting soul a fright.
Lord Bruxley deserved what he got, but most people don’t deserve to be terrorized by rampaging perennials.
Afternoon faded into evening. This walk was proving rather longer than Luna initially anticipated.
She could feel a thin place forming rapidly in the sole of her left shoe, and a seam on her right was starting to gape.
Green Mother willing, she’d be able to stuff them with enough cardboard to keep going until she’d saved up for a fresh pair.
Mr. Grimm paid a generous wage, of course, but Mrs. Boggs, now she knew there was a money supply on hand, had become quite relentless in her rent-collection endeavors.
She kept adding penny charges to simple things, like using the front stairs or wiping one’s feet on the foyer mat.
Luna was half-tempted to leave a stash of her earnings buried in Garden, just for safekeeping.
Her shoes had not yet given out entirely, however, when the houndsnose turned off King Kybald into a very posh neighborhood.
The kind of neighborhood where tall, brick walls surrounded peaked gables, and the sidewalks were lined with decorative trees, each provided with its own miniature, wrought-iron fence and surrounded by planters of pansies and impatiens.
Luna’s eyes bugged. Even Mr. Grimm let out a little blustering breath between his lips. “I don’t think we’re in Lower Eastside anymore,” he said as the houndsnose led them to a large, white gate over which a gold-plated sign hung, declaring: brUXLEY HALL - KEEP OUT.
“No, indeed,” Luna agreed, peering through the gate bars.
“This is Toff’s Ville, and no mistake!” A long winding drive lay before them through green grounds.
Actual grounds, in the middle of a city!
What a thing. Quite extensive too, with little garden bends and avenues and wrought-iron benches tucked away under bowers.
If this was indeed Lord Bruxley’s place, well!
He did all right for himself, apparently. Didn’t make him any less of an ass.
The houndsnose slipped between the iron rails of the gate and tried to tug its way down the drive, pulling Luna’s arm. She yanked it back, gentle (it was a flower, after all), but firm. “No, no,” she said, “you can’t go charging in, there’s a good boy.”
Mr. Grimm slipped his hands into his pockets and sighed despondently. “I suppose this is the end of the line.”
“Why is that, Mr. Grimm?”
He pointed to another sign, also nailed to the gate post: NO SOLICITING. “Something tells me, that would include any requests to hunt about the grounds in search of wayward plant life.”
“We could say we’re looking for a lost kitten?”
Mr. Grimm shot her a look. “Do you think the sort of people who live in a place like this would have any use for other people’s lost kittens?”
“You never know. They might be nice.”
At this, Mr. Grimm pointed to the original sign above the gate. “These are Bruxleys,” he said. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
Luna grimaced. Apparently the tiger lily did manage to stay on Lord Bruxley’s heels all the way uptown. She hoped the man hadn’t done anything dreadful to the poor flower, but knew she’d probably better keep such hopes in check.
Picking up the houndsnose—which trembled with eagerness to continue the chase—she absently stroked its yellow head until it calmed.
Meanwhile, she surveyed the wall: tall, brick, imposing.
And beyond it, what looked to be large hedgerows of spiky holly bushes.
But there! A few yards to the right, a stout tree branch protruded over to shade a portion of the sidewalk.
“That’s the way in,” she said, pointing.
“What?” Mr. Grimm turned his head sharply.
She met his gaze, unflinching. “We can’t come all this way and just give up. One of us will have to climb over and fetch the poor lily.”
His mouth gaped for a moment, opening and closing on a series of silent protests. Finally, he managed: “That would be breaking and entering.”
“Not breaking,” Luna protested. “I’m not proposing we break anything.”
“Trespassing then. Bad enough where the aristocracy is concerned. They won’t bother to call the wardsmen, you know. They’ll just feed us to their pigs or something equally grotesque.”
Luna puckered her lips and shook her head. “You’ve been reading too many sensational dime novels, Mr. Grimm.”
“I’ve never read a dime novel in my life.”
“Besides, can you imagine someone like Lord Bruxley keeping pigs?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Look.” Luna turned to face him frankly.
“You yourself said we can’t have magical flowers prowling about the city.
It would be bad for the shop. We could end up with a Reputation”—she enunciated the capital with emphasis.
“Or, worse still, it could bring the SSSD snooping round. No indeed, Mr. Grimm. We’ve got to fetch that flower back, one way or another.
” She cast another covert look up and down the street.
“I don’t see any security cameras. The Bruxleys are old fashioned, at least.”
“Old fashioned enough,” Mr. Grimm muttered, “they probably have a patrol dragon on the grounds. Fed entirely on solicitors, unwelcome guests, and random folk swept off the sidewalk unawares.”
But Luna merely laughed and slipped the soothed houndsnose into her pocket. Then she marched to the part of the wall over which the branch protruded. Hands on hips, she took the measure of both wall and branch and nodded firmly.
“There’s no two ways about it,” she said. “You’ll have to get me up on your shoulders, Mr. Grimm.”