That said, Alfie could have handled it better, perhaps offering to help Dominick find new lodgings or arrange the delivery of his wardrobe. That would have let him know Dominick’s new address as well, so that if he ever happened to be in the neighbourhood…
But no, it was better to have a clean break. Still, he shouldn’t have snapped at Dominick like that. He’d been kind enough to Alfie to call him “friend” while their working relationship had lasted, it wasn’t Dominick’s fault Alfie had gone too far and fallen in love with him.
He was broken from his maudlin thoughts by the rumbling of his stomach. While Mrs. Hirkins had brought up a fresh tray with every set of visitors, a man could not survive on tea and cakes alone. He had let his foul mood out on her as well, snapping at her once or twice as the day wore on and she announced yet another group come to call. He should go find her and make his apologies, and maybe even grovel a little cheese and pickle out of her before supper. He reached for the bell, but reconsidered. If he was going to grovel properly, it would be best to do it in her realm, not his. He practiced his most remorseful looks as he took the stairs down to the kitchen.
✽✽✽
“No need to pretend around me that you’re sad the jack-weight is dead,” Mrs. Hirkins said without looking up from a ball of dough she was kneading. “He was a bully and a lech and we both know the world is better without him in it.”
She threw the dough on the floured counter with emphasis. “God rest his soul.”
Alfie couldn’t help but smile. Mrs. Hirkins had always been the one person in this house he didn’t have to walk on eggshells around. She’d patched more than one skinned knee and pretended not to notice how many petit fours went missing before tea. But more than anyone, she had also been the one to show him how life among the nobility worked. Even if that did occasionally take the form of chasing him out of the scullery with a broom as it was no place for young gentlemen.
And now it was just the two of them.
“I actually came to apologise for anything I might have done to offend you today, Mrs. Hirkins. It’s been… rather trying and I’m afraid I haven’t been at my best.”
“You were no worse than you usually are, I suppose,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. She crossed over to the sideboard and returned with a plate of cutlets and fruits that had already been prepared. “Here now, this should tide you over until supper, although I’ll be as busy as the devil in a high wind trying to get that ready by a decent hour after you’ve had me running back and forth with trays all day.”
“I’m sorry,” Alfie replied, tucking in. “I should have hired more staff after my mother passed.”
He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until she had set the plate down before him, and focusing on the food gave him an excuse not to look at her as he spoke again. “No need to go to any great lengths for supper. I’ll be dining alone.”
“Oh?” she said, and Alfie wished he could read more from her tone without seeing her expression. “Is Mr. Tripner otherwise engaged this evening?”
“No. I mean, yes. That is, I don’t know what he’s doing. He won’t be dining here this evening though. Or any other evening. He’s moved on.”
“Has he indeed? Well, that is a shame.”
Alfie swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Quite.”
Mrs. Hirkins went back to kneading the dough, discussion apparently over. Alfie picked at his food, his appetite having suddenly diminished.
“When I was a girl,” she said after several minutes had passed, the only sounds between them being the crackling of the kitchen fire and the rhythmic thump of dough on board.
“When I was a girl, I lived in a little village near York. But there weren’t room enough for all of us, so I was sent to live with an aunt here in London. Every night I cried. Missing my mam, frightened of all the noise and people. It seemed like I had been tossed ashore on a strange land all alone. You had the same look about you when your parents first showed up with you on the doorstep, calling you their son but forgetting you were there at all from one minute to the next. Such a sweet thing you were too, until you opened your mouth. Then such filth I had never heard!”
Alfie blushed. He knew that Mrs. Hirkins knew, or at the very least suspected, that his origins were much lower than his parents claimed, but he hadn’t fully appreciated her loyalty in never saying anything. She gestured, and he sprinkled a handful of flour on the table as she held the dough aloft.
She nodded and continued kneading. “So. Frightened and miserable I was. But one day, I met a neighbour lass who lived on the floor above. Jenny.”
She stopped, and stared at the dough, before giving her head a quick shake and continuing.
“Oh, what a delight she was. We went everywhere together. She knew all the best jokes and hiding places. Beautiful too, with hair black as night and the sweetest brown eyes. She had a box full of ribbons from men trying to court her, but she would have none of them, though she could charm the birds from the trees if she felt like it and could make you laugh with just a look. I was never so happy as when I was with her.”
Mrs. Hirkins had stopped kneading again, her knuckles clenched white in the dough but her eyes empty, staring through it to a time long past. Alfie’s mouth was dry. It certainly sounded like… But he didn’t even know if there was a word for two women who were like he and Dominick were. He gently laid his hand on the back of hers. She startled.
“Were you…” Alfie wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking. Were you in love? Were you the only one who felt that way? Were you heartbroken when you discovered things between you weren’t what you thought they were and you were left alone?
“I don’t know.” She spoke softly, and that said more to Alfie than anything else. Loud, strong, fearless Mrs. Hirkins, who was never afraid to say exactly what she thought, quieted by the memory of a girl she’d known a lifetime ago.
“What happened to her?” he whispered.
“She died. A fever that winter. One day we were laughing and stealing sips of mulled wine, and the next she was gone.”
She put her other hand on top of Alfie’s and just stood there, her rough and flour caked hands clinging to his. “That spring I met Mr. Hirkins, and the rest you know. He’s as good a man as any other, and I wouldn’t trade my babies and grandbabies for the world. I have no regrets there.”
She looked up at Alfie then, her eyes filled with her old determination once more. She spoke slowly, as if each word was a point he was not allowed to miss.
“Since you came to this house, Master Alfred, I have never heard you laugh so much as you have these last few weeks. It’s a precious gift, that. And it warmed my old heart to hear it as I walked the halls. I think-I think my Jenny knew how I felt. I think she had to. But I was always too scared to say the words aloud. And then she was gone. I would have given all the years of wondering for just one chance to let her know.”
Alfie thought about it—all the years stretching out before him, empty and alone. Maybe he would find someone else someday, someone who was “as good as any other” but that person could never replace Dominick. Dominick had been in his heart almost since the day he was born, and Alfie knew he would be there until the day he died. He’d been thankful before, that he’d never told Dominick he loved him, but now he couldn’t bear the thought.
But unlike Mrs. Hirkins and her poor Jenny, Dominick wasn’t dead. Alfie still had a chance. And maybe he had been right this morning, and Dominick didn’t feel the same, but if he did… If he did!
He jumped up, knocking back the stool he’d been sitting on.
“Thank you Mrs. Hirkins. Thank you.” He gave her hands another squeeze and kissed her on the cheek. “I’m sorry, I have to go—”
“Off with you then,” she coughed, trying to cover a sniff. She tossed him a kitchen rag. “Making an old woman cry. And look at the state of you! Best wipe that flour off if you’re going to be presentable. And don’t you worry about supper, I’ll be
here to make sure you have something warm when you get back. And I’ll make enough for two.”
Alfie gave her another quick kiss and dashed out of the kitchen, barely remembering to grab his coat and cane as he clattered out the front door. He had gone thirteen years without Dominick, and didn’t plan on spending a minute more alone.
Chapter 27
The cab took him close to Spitalfields, but no amount of money could convince the driver to roam the streets while Alfie searched for a landmark. He had only the vaguest remembrance of where Dominick lived, having only visited it the once and at night to boot, but Alfie was not going to let that deter him.
He paid the driver and set out on foot, stride as fast and confident as a man who knew his business. His hand gripped his sword cane in such a way as to suggest to any potential thieves or muggers that there were easier pickings to be had elsewhere. Despite appearances though, he really did have no idea where he was heading.
The sun began to set, and he feared he’d have to call off his search for the night. His steps slowed. Who was to say Dominick was even at the same rooms Alfie had seen all those weeks ago? Surely with the hundred pounds Alfie had told him to take, he could have already found himself a place in a much nicer area. Or he could have even left London entirely.
Alfie’s steps slowed. As far as he knew, Dominick hadn’t any real reason to stay. He had no family of course, Alfie knew that, and he hadn’t seemed to have any close friends either. He’d spoken warmly once or twice of the man Jimmy, who’d been the one to throw in the towel for him that night in the ring, but that was all. He might already be beyond Alfie’s reach forever.
Just as the thought was beginning to fill him with despair, Alfie looked down the narrow street and saw a sign for a pub with a cur carved roughly into the wooden panel, its once bright paint now flaking but still recognizable in colour. The Red Dog. The same pub where he had first seen Dominick boxing and followed him out into the night. His heart beat faster. They hadn’t gone too far from the pub to get to Dominick’s rooms. If he was still around, Alfie could be with him in just a matter of minutes. If he could remember the way.
He cocked his head for a moment, trying to remember, then turned left. This time, his determined gait as he strode into the gathering night was not just an act.
✽✽✽
Alfie was pleased when only two wrong turns later he was standing in front of Dominick’s lodging house. He stepped inside and hesitated. Would it be better to plan out what he was going to say or to go up immediately and beard the lion in his den, so to speak? On the one hand, he knew he had to get his words exactly right, as he would likely never have another chance. On the other, the suspense was already driving him to distraction, and he doubted dragging it out would improve matters.
The sound of an almighty crash followed by a howl of pain in a familiar voice ended his deliberations. He ran up the stairs, tripping over his own feet as he took them two at a time in the darkness.
He reached the third floor, vaguely noting that none of the other occupants of the house had been drawn out by the fight. He didn’t blame them. On the streets, minding your own business was the best way to keep out of trouble, but another cry from Dominick had him longing for reinforcements. He rushed down the hall without considering his own safety. He didn’t need to know what he was rushing into. If Dominick needed help, Alfie would be there.
The door to Dominick’s set of rooms was open, and Alfie stood a moment in the doorway, letting his eyes adjust enough to the low light to make sense of the scene before him. Two men were struggling on the floor. Based on size and bulk alone, the one on his back was clearly Dominick, but Alfie at first did not recognize the man on top. Then the man leaned forward into the shaft of moonlight coming through the window and Alfie remembered his face. It was the same man he had seen watching the carriage when Dominick had bought them pies from that pub. This close, Alfie was struck again by the thought that there was something familiar about him, but that was immediately rendered unimportant when the light caught the edge of a blade in his hand. The man had a knife to Dominick’s throat.
Alfie inhaled sharply. Neither of the fighters had noticed his presence, too consumed in their combat. He raised his cane, meaning to strike Dominick’s attacker, when Dominick turned his head towards Alfie as if he knew, even though his eyes were closed, that Alfie was there. Then he spoke.
“There’s one thing you need to know, Baz. Alfie didn’t take your place. You were never the Crawford’s first choice. I was.”
Alfie let out a cry of shock. If that was true, Dominick was the one who should have been an earl. He was the one who should have lived the last thirteen years in comfort rather than fighting to earn a few coins or having to choose between whoring himself out and starving. Dominick should have been whisked away to a life of privilege. Alfie was the one who should have been left behind. But if he had, he would not have survived. He had never been as strong as Dominick, and the things Dominick had endured would have killed him.
And even as a child Dominick knew it, and made the choice. He had intentionally started the fight that day, not to stop Baz, but to save Alfie.
Dominick opened his eyes at Alfie’s cry. There was such a look of wonder there, of shock and joy and fear, thirteen years—a lifetime—of meaning in just one look. Alfie only hoped Dominick could read a fraction of the same feelings on his own face.
“You,” hissed Baz. He reared back. Alfie reached forward, trying to stop him. Dominick turned and looked up at his attacker, just as Baz brought the knife down and sunk it into his chest.
Alfie screamed as Dominick crumpled, curling in on himself and rolling on his side away from Alfie. No! Please, God, no!
Baz rose to his feet and stalked towards him. The knife in his hand was red and dripping. Behind him, Dominick groaned weakly. Baz glanced back at him and spat.
“Ignore him, he’ll bleed out in a minute or two. This is between you and me.
Alfie was still as a rabbit caught in a predator’s sights. It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t allowed. Dominick couldn’t be dying. Not ever, and not now, not when Alfie hadn’t had a chance to tell him he loved him, had always loved him. He was so close, just feet away, but Alfie couldn't get to him.
Baz’s whine of a voice barely broke through the anguished keening of his thoughts.
“Well, if it isn’t little Alfie. You do clean up fine. I guess it don’t matter now which of us it was supposed to be. I’m going to take every penny of it out of your hide. Why don’t you put that stick down and I’ll go easier on you, eh? Maybe I’ll even be kind enough to slit your throat before I cut out your tongue?”
Alfie realised he was still holding his cane aloft and brought it down hard. Baz caught it and sneered, his ugly face twisting until he looked like every nightmare Alfie had ever had. He had spent his entire childhood believing that one day Baz would kill him if Dominick wasn’t there to protect him. It looked like he was right.
“Not so brave without your cocksucker to protect you, are you? I was going to be nice and let you kiss your whore goodbye, but now I think I’m going to start by slicing up that pretty little face of yours instead.”
“Don’t talk about him that way!”
“The whore? He’s trash. A flea-bitten dog that should have been put down years ago. You know I offered to let him in on your cousin’s scam and he was too stupid to take me up on it? And now it turns out he could have been the one to have everything you got, but look where he is instead. Bleeding out in a filthy room, where he’ll either rot until the neighbours complain of his stink, or be taken by resurrectionists. Fitting, eh? That the whore’s body gets sold even after he’s dead?”
Alfie’s fear turned to rage, blinding hot in its intensity. Everything inside him fell quiet.
“If he doesn’t leave this room alive, then neither do you.”
Baz still clutched the end of the cane, so Alfie pulled back. He flicked his thumb over the hidden catch and drew
the sword within from its sheath.
Before Baz could realise what had happened, Alfie lunged. His body, honed by years of pouring out his fears and frustrations through fencing, moved instinctively with a perfect attaque au fer, knocking the knife from Baz’s hand.
Baz looked shocked and stumbled back. He recovered quickly, stepping away from Dominick’s prone form. In a flash he had another knife in his hand. He spat and cursed under his breath, but Alfie didn’t react. He advanced slowly, step by careful step, until he could strike again, this time a cut across Baz’s arm that had him shrink back, but not drop the knife. Alfie attacked again and again, a remise of small moves keeping Baz on the defensive.
“Dominick is a good man, the best man I have ever known,” Alfie said, never halting his flurry of strikes. Baz was bleeding freely now from several smaller wounds, but Alfie wasn’t done with him yet. “He is kind, and brave, and generous. He makes me happy.”
Here Alfie’s voice broke. His hand wavered just a fraction. Baz parried the sword aside with the cane sheath he still held and leapt, the knife in his other hand slicing through the air over his head.
Alfie dropped to a knee and drove up with all his might.
There was a gasp followed by a gurgle. Baz was suspended over him, pinned in place with Alfie’s sword stuck straight through his chest, a direct strike to the heart. Alfie watched the knife slip from Baz’s slack fingers and rose, pushing the blade through his body to the hilt. He leaned in close as Baz’s eyes dimmed.
“He makes me happy,” Alfie whispered. “And I love him more than a vermin like you could ever comprehend.”
He let go of the sword and let it fall, taking Baz’s lifeless body with it, the man already forgotten as Alfie walked over to Dominick and dropped to his knees beside him.
“Please,” he said, hand hovering over Dominick’s back, too afraid to touch him in case he was already still, unable to roll him over just to find him slack in Alfie’s arms.
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