Chapter 10 #2
He sank down on the edge of the bed. “Well, you were the one who had been incarcerated and—” He broke off before finishing the sentence.
“I figured there must be some reason you weren’t trusting them with the whole truth.
” He gestured toward the letter on the tray. “This seems to suggest you were right.”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
We sat silently for a few moments, contemplating our precarious circumstances, until Sidney voiced a question that was emblematic of one of the reasons I loved him.
“So what do we do?”
It wasn’t voiced in lip service, having already decided our next course of action.
And it wasn’t feeble or uncertain, asking me to guide him.
Rather it was a request for collaboration.
An implied acknowledgment that we were in this together, whatever came, and so we would have to find a way out of it together.
“For the time being, I think we must watch and wait.” I picked up the letter, staring down at the place where the secret message had disappeared, the paper drying to a brittle stiffness. “If we tried to leave, I don’t think they’d let us. And even if we succeeded …”
“It would only make us look as if we were guilty of something.” He frowned. “Did you send a message for Xavier with Nimble?”
“I considered it, but I’m not sure how to contrive it.” I explained my concerns about O’s men watching us and Nimble being searched.
Sidney’s expression made it clear he was not happy with this development. “I’ll speak to Nimble and see if he was followed or harassed.” He began to rise. “By the way, the raiding party didn’t find the hole through the wall into the town house next door.”
“They didn’t?” I asked in surprise, guessing they must have, and that it would appear decidedly damning. Even though we had not been the ones to knock the hole in the wall in the first place, we had taken advantage of it.
The family that had lived there had begun a renovation, but then when the troubles had all started, had halted it presumably until peace prevailed again.
Their contractors had been the ones to accidently tear a hole in the wall adjoining the two residences on the uppermost floor.
We had merely expanded it and removed the back of the guest bedchamber’s wardrobe, positioning it in front of the hole.
In this way, we could sneak into the neighboring home and exit through its back garden when we needed to come and go unobserved.
“No. Though Max now knows of it. I had to tell him, when he arrived.”
“They’re both staying here, then?” I asked in some relief. In the hubbub of my arrival, I’d not yet had a chance to inquire about the particulars.
“Yes.” He took the letter from me, folding it and setting it on the side table as he picked up the bowl of almond soup I’d removed from the tray to make room. “With the state of things, and you being detained at the Castle, I figured it was for the best to offer them a room.”
I watched as Sidney carefully returned the soup and shifted the tray closer to me. “I’m glad you did. There’s strength in numbers.” And it meant that he had not been all alone, imagining the worst.
“Now, eat,” he ordered. “I can’t imagine the food they fed you was very good.”
“For the most part, it actually wasn’t bad,” I admitted, picking up my spoon. “But I think they were feeding me from the officer’s mess.”
Sidney looked doubtful. “Regardless, you need to rebuild your strength.”
I reached out a hand to grasp his when he would have gone. “I’m a little sore and bruised, darling, not an invalid.”
His eyebrows arched skeptically. “A little?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to lie, but there had already been enough of that. “It comes and goes.”
He seemed reassured to be given a straight answer. A spark lit his eyes. “There’s a sweets shop on Capel Street, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” I replied uncertainly. “But I don’t need sweets, Sidney.”
“Of course, you do,” he countered, continuing to meet my gaze levelly, as if urging me to grasp the implication.
I inhaled swiftly, finally realizing what he meant. “Yes, it’s across from the library.”
The library that was used as a letterbox by Collins and his men. The library Alec sometimes frequented.
His lips creased into a slight grin at our conspiring. “I’ll take the Pierce-Arrow.”
“Be careful,” I urged as he turned to go.
He nodded, pointing at my tray. “I expect half of that to be eaten or no sweets for you.”
I smiled at his nagging. “Go!”
“I mean it,” I heard him call as the door shut behind him.
I stared down at the abundance of food before me, my smile fading.
The emotions tumbling around in my breast were in such a tumult, I didn’t know how I was going to manage to eat any of it.
Not when I wanted to scream and then flop back on my bed and stare at the canopy overhead and never move again.
I closed my eyes, trying to focus on anything except the tightness inside my chest. That’s when I heard whistling.
It was a jaunty soldiers’ tune; one whose words temporarily eluded me, but which Nimble probably knew if I’d asked him to sing instead of whistle.
Overhead, I heard the floor creak and the faint rumble of voices, suggesting Max was chatting with George.
Belowstairs, the telephone jangled, and a piece of fabric snapped as if being unfurled.
On the street below, children’s voices called to one another and a motorcar sounded its horn.
It was these noises of everyday life that brought me back to myself, slowing my breathing and settling my pulse, and eventually convincing me I had to at least try. Even a single bite was more than before. One movement, one step, one moment at a time.