“You look nice as well,” I told Clarence with a wave to his crisp black suit and gleaming patent leather shoes.
He offered me his elbow, and I hooked my arm in his. Despite his obvious exhaustion, he gracefully escorted me to the carriage.
A rough breeze kicked at my curls, and I pulled my black velvet cloak tightly to me. Rain would ruin my elaborate hair and cover the gown’s train in mud. And how will rain affect the Spirit-Hunters’ mission?
I nodded to Willis, who sat with the driver on the back of the Wilcox carriage. He tipped his hat.
Clarence swung open the carriage door and hefted me in. I started when three leering faces emerged in the darkness before me.
Clarence guided me to a seat, plopped on the bench across from me, and slammed the door shut. “I took your advice, Miss Fitt,” he said. “Allow me to introduce my newest guards.”
I squinted to see them. They were tough-looking men. Though all three wore shiny top hats, they looked more like men one would find patrolling the streets at night. Broad shoulders, bushy mustaches, and stiff postures.
“They’re Pinkertons,” Clarence explained. “The best of the best.”
“Ah.” The Pinkerton National Detective Agency was well-known for its top-notch private security. Its motto was We Never Sleep. Even President Lincoln had hired them. Although, that hadn’t worked well for him in the end.
“How appropriate,” I murmured in a syrupy voice. “The men who never sleep to guard the man who never sleeps.”
Clarence laughed hollowly. “Well, perhaps now I can sleep.” He slouched back in his seat and rested his hands behind his head. “I’ve also decided to send Mother and Allison on a trip to our seaside cottage. They are at home packing as we speak. You were right to suggest more protection, Miss Fitt. Why, I haven’t felt this at ease in two weeks!”
So the Wilcox women were not ill at all. The carriage rattled to a start. None of the Pinkertons moved or even flinched.
“I’m glad I could help,” I said dryly.
“Yes. It’s wonderful to relax.” Clarence’s tone was light, and he was almost like his old charming self. If three stone-faced guards weren’t with us in the carriage, I might have enjoyed him again.
As if in response to my musings, Clarence said, “I must admit, Miss Fitt, I actually enjoy your company.”
My eyebrows darted up. “You sound as if this surprises you. Some people do like me, you know.”
He only laughed again. “Yes, yes, of course. Pardon me—I merely meant that although you have a vexing habit of never acting quite as I expect, I still enjoy my time with you. Perhaps that’s precisely why I like you … or perhaps it’s because you are the only person who knows of my situation. Either way, it makes your mother happy to have me around, and it makes my mother happy to see me showing such interest in a young lady—even one such as yourself.”
“Honestly, Mr. Wilcox, do you hear yourself? You insult me at every turn.”
He grinned and leaned toward me, setting his elbows on his knees. “Yes, and you’re a wonderful sport about it.”
I sighed dramatically. “Are we still going to the opera?”
“Of course. And these men will be joining us. The three extra tickets shan’t go to waste.”
“Oh.”
We descended into silence. This evening was turning out far different than I’d imagined. I couldn’t even dream of escape—not with those Pinkertons there.
I tried to concentrate on something else, to lose myself in the clack of the horses’ hooves, the rattle of the wheels, and—land sakes! Snoring!
I leaned forward and peered at Clarence in the darkness. The man had fallen asleep. I wilted back onto my seat, and the Pinkerton nearest me said, “I reckon he’s tired. Don’t wake him.”
Pshaw. I glared at the man and then turned my stare out the window. Why had Clarence even bothered to take me out if he intended to sleep the entire time? As intriguing as he might have been, a sleeping companion was utterly useless. I doubted our mothers would be particularly pleased to know he’d left me to make conversation with the Pinkertons.
A quarter of an hour passed, and we clattered to a stop on Arch Street. Clarence twitched to life and dragged himself from the carriage. He tugged me out with him, and I fought the urge to resist. As he spoke to Willis and the driver, I hugged my cloak tight and glanced around.
Families and couples in lavish evening attire traipsed all around the street. Women in pastel gowns shimmered under streetlamps, and their dragging skirts whispered like a symphony of moth wings. The men, all dressed in their long black coats and black top hats—identical copies of Clarence—guided their ladies to the granite steps and tall white columns before the Arch Street Theatre’s entrance.
Carriage after carriage rattled up and deposited the beautiful and the wealthy of Philadelphia. And, like me, they all examined everyone else. Yet, if they sought familiar faces or merely wished to critique their neighbors, I couldn’t say. Either way, I was suddenly very grateful for my new gown. For the first time since leaving girlhood and frocks behind, I felt I was a match for my society.
“Eleanor!” A girl’s voice shouted.
I twirled around to see Mercy nearby, her sister, Patience, still climbing down from a carriage. I waved.
Mercy daintily lifted her skirts to approach me, but then she paused. Her smile wavered and fell.
Fingers grasped my arm, and I flinched. But it was only Clarence. I gave him a tight grin—the Virtue Sisters would be delighted to know he was here!—and I glanced back to the street.
Patience had joined Mercy, and they glared at me. The hatred and envy was so thick, I staggered back.
Clarence steadied me. “Are you all right, Miss Fitt?”
“No—yes … yes. I’m fine. Let’s go in.” My voice broke over a lump in my throat.
Here I was unwillingly on the arm of Clarence Wilcox, but all the Virtue Sisters would see was Eleanor Fitt of the fallen Philadelphia Fitts on the arm of the most eligible bachelor in the city.
Maybe these people would talk with me and play croquet, but they still lived by the judgmental rules of class and wealth. And for a very brief moment, I wished I could go back in time to when Mercy had smiled.
But then I set my jaw and pulled back my shoulders. If their friendships were based on such meaningless things as name, then did I truly want them in my life?
Clarence and I reached the top of the steps. The grooved columns towered up beside us, and cheerful light poured from the open theater doors.
I peered back at the street. The Virtue Sisters were nowhere in sight, but my gaze hit on a small figure lounging against a gas streetlamp. My breath hitched. It was Jie! Jie!
What was she doing here? She nodded at me, and I nodded back. All my concerns over society vanished, for here was someone I knew I could call friend.
A fresh energy pumped through me. This evening wasn’t ruined yet. There was still time to do what needed doing. Pinkertons, Clarence, Patience—none of them mattered. I still had a chance. A choice.
Porters bowed as we passed through the theater doors. Glistening crystal chandeliers greeted us, and for the first time I was able to fully inspect Clarence’s newest bodyguards. They each wore ill-fitting black suits and well-fitting black scowls. They reminded me of those Russian dolls that all fit inside one another, for the three men could have been triplets if it weren’t for their differences in size. Small, medium, large.
They looked dangerous and dependable, but I knew I could handle them.
Clarence guided me through the theater’s entrance hall. Our feet clicked on ornate marble floors and up the main staircase. On the second floor, we walked silently down long, bloodred carpets until we reached a private balcony. Once inside, Clarence plopped into a seat and lounged back. Two men settled into seats, and one stationed himself at the balcony’s entrance. A single vacant seat was at Clarence’s right, but I avoided it. I was too excited to stay still.
&
nbsp; My mind buzzed with curiosity over Jie’s presence outside.
I hustled to the balcony’s edge and gazed at the theater’s ceiling, a painted dome that reflected the gas lights and bathed everyone in yellow warmth.
I felt good—not happy per se, but in control. No one and nothing could stand in my way. This was my life.
When the first strains of music began, I moved to my seat. I glowered at the small Pinkerton who sat at my right. He offered me a flimsy, paper program, and I snatched it from his fingers. I flipped through the pages, only pretending to read them.
I needed a plan.
“Have you the time?” I asked Clarence.
He eased out a pocket watch. “Five after nine.”
I peered in the program. The first intermission was in an hour. Would Jie still be standing there at ten? I had no way of knowing since I didn’t know precisely why she was here in the first place. I tugged at my earring and forced my mind off the subject. I could do nothing at the moment.
The lights dimmed, and the opera began. Clarence quickly slumped over into a heavy sleep. None of his guards drifted into slumber, of course.
The first act passed at an excruciatingly slow speed. I constantly adjusted my train or massaged my scalp, and the performance did nothing to keep my mind from wandering.
I used to love the opera. Much like I swooned over Shakespeare’s exotic lands, I longed to see the magical worlds of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte or Wagner’s Die Walküre. To see Germany and Austria—the lands that had inspired such beautiful music and tales.
But not tonight. Perhaps never again, in fact. How could I dream when I knew I could act instead? And with all the strange and deadly things in the world, what was there even worth dreaming about?
Elijah. No matter what Mama said, I knew that Elijah cared about me. But sitting here watching a silly opera was not helping him. I had to leave. I had to talk to Daniel and get answers. I had to get away from here and put my mind and body to use.
Not soon, but now. Enough waiting.
“I must go to the necessary,” I murmured to Clarence, but he didn’t budge. I shook him lightly, but the only response was a sputtering snore.
I turned to the squat Pinkerton. “I must go to the necessary.”
“I’ll eth-cort you.”
I almost laughed at his squeaky lisp. It was so unexpected. Instead, I puffed out my chest and wrinkled my nose.
“You’ll do no such thing. Have you no manners, sir?” I snorted and jumped up. “I am not the one in need of protection. You must stay with your employer.”
I scurried into the hall. Willis was there.
“My head pains me,” I told him, my chin held high. “I will hire a hackney home.”
He moved toward the balcony door, presumably to wake Clarence.
I caught his arm. “Leave him. He sleeps soundly, and he needs the rest.”
Willis narrowed his eyes, and my confidence wavered. I couldn’t let him wake Clarence. I was so close to escape.
“I daresay this is as safe a place as any for him to slumber.” I pursed my lips and arched a single, prim eyebrow. “You may tell Mr. Wilcox to call on me in the morning. I expect him to inquire after my health. Thank you.”
I swiveled, my gait as imperial as I could make it, and I marched down the carpeted hall out of the footman’s sight. When I reached the stairs, I ran. My blood pounded in my ears. For all my bravery, I was terrified of discovery. Clarence’s outburst yesterday had been as unpredictable as a summer storm, and if I slowed to let my mind think, I’d be lost to cowardice.
I raced through the now-empty main hall. My footsteps echoed off the marble tiles. The porters at the front doors exchanged shocked glances. I could imagine the sight I must have presented—a flushed ball of purple silk and rustling skirts. No matter. I whisked past them and flew out into the Philadelphia night. My feet thudded on the theater’s stone steps. Despite the stormy breeze that hit me, I sweated beneath my gown.
Jie lounged against the same streetlamp, and at the sight of me she straightened.
I jogged to her. “What’re you doing here?” My ribs heaved against my corset as I strained to catch my breath.
“I was waiting for you. Your maid isn’t so nice, yeah? I went to your house to find you, but she wouldn’t tell me where you were.”
“What’d you do?”
“I said I’d rip out her eyes and knock her teeth loose if she didn’t tell me.” She scowled, and the bruise on her cheek from the library attack made her look positively menacing.
I laughed a full, bubbling, stomach laugh. It was the first time I’d done that in weeks, and it felt good.
“I need your help,” Jie said when my chuckles subsided. “I don’t think I can trust Daniel tonight.”
Fear flapped into my throat like clawing bats. Daniel is a murderer.
“Wh-why?” I gulped. “Is there something wrong with him?”
Jie popped her knuckles. “Just something funny. I dunno. This factory makes him … makes him skittish. We need another hand in case things go wrong.”
“And you thought of me?” The fear in my throat eased back.
She shrugged. “Why not? You got legs and arms like the rest of us—you just need some trousers.”
I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “All right,” I said. “But let’s get away from here before I’m caught.”
“The men you came with.” She pointed to the theater. “Where are they?”
“Occupied.”
She flexed her arms. “Perfect. Let’s go.” She grabbed my hand and towed me into the street. “I’ll hail a hackney. Since you’re wearing that silly dress, we can’t walk to the Exhibition.”
“No one wears silly gowns in China?”
“Oh yes,” she said. “We have silly clothes too.”
“You’ll have to show me one day.”
She heaved open a hackney door and shot me a toothy grin. “That’s a deal. But first we have to survive tonight.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I fear you have wasted your time by coming,” Joseph said a half hour after I’d fled the opera house. His lips pinched together. “I don’t know what Jie has told you, Miss Fitt, but we do not need you.”
I huddled under my cloak, wishing Joseph would turn his worried gaze elsewhere. He, Jie, and I stood in the lab. A lone lantern flickered from the worktable.
“She’ll be a lookout,” Jie said. “We go in the factory, and she stays outside.”
“No.”
“We need her help.” She waved toward me. “What if Daniel loses his nerve?”
Joseph stood taller. “Daniel will be fine with only you. I trust him. And this is not Miss Fitt’s job, but it is our job.” His gaze flicked to me. “You have been a great help to us before, but there is too much risk for you this time.”
“But—” I started.
“Please.” His lips twisted down with apology. “I appreciate the offer. Truly, I do, but you should leave.”
“No.” I felt like an idiot standing in the middle of the laboratory dressed in layers of silk with a trail of lies snaking behind me. “I can help. Besides, it’s my brother who’s missing. I have to do everything I can to save him. It’s my duty.”
Joseph shook his head. “Miss Fitt, we are in a difficult place right now. The Dead grow strong, our help is limited to men who run and scream at the sight of a walking corpse, and we are about to break the law—something I have never done before.”
“Which is why I can help.”
His eyebrows drew tightly together. “No—do you not see? Ultimately, your presence here only complicates matters. You are a woman of … well, of high society.”
I inched toward him, winding my fingers in my skirts. “And? You’re a gentleman, so you must understand that society has nothing to do with the Dead!”
His shoulders sagged. “You misunderstand. The consequence of injury to your person—it outweighs the need for your help. Daniel will be
fine with only Jie.”
“No,” I pleaded, though I saw the logic of his argument. “No.”
“Miss Fitt, we do not need your help, and I think it best you go. And this is not a request now. It is an order.”
I dropped my eyes and swallowed. My breath shook as I tried to keep my exterior calm. I had thought—no, I had hoped Joseph would want me here just as Jie did.
Bricks of defeat hung over my shoulders, threatening to drop at any moment and crush me. I’d made a risky escape for nothing. Daniel wasn’t even here for me to question. Joseph did not need me, and I would succumb to frustrated, useless tears if I did not keep breathing.
I turned and shuffled from the lab into the empty darkness of Machinery Hall. I didn’t even bother to lift my gown from the floor.
I would have to hire a hackney home and sort out my newest tales of deceit. Clarence would need to be dealt with. Mama too …
A figure formed in the shadows. My heart jolted, and I threw my hands up, ready to fight. But it was only Daniel.
“You scared me,” I said.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was so soft I could barely hear it.
His gaze roved over me. “You look …” His eyes stopped at the open expanse of my neck and chest, and he twisted his face away. “You look different.”
My heart bounced, and for the second time that evening I was pleased with my gown. “I was at the opera.” I smoothed at my bodice. “Evening attire, you know.”
“No, I reckon I don’t.” He stepped toward me and slid his hands into his pockets. He inspected me again from top to bottom, and I inspected him right back. I searched for signs of wickedness. In the faint glow of moonlight that trickled through the hall’s windows, all I could see was the lanky young man I’d grown accustomed to.
“What did you mean,” I asked, “when you told me you had a lot of making up to do?”
Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly - Trilogy) Page 17