The Black Country

by Alex Grecian

  Day gripped Claire’s arms and ushered her back up the porch steps and into the house, glancing about the whole while at the empty and now ominous lane that ran down along the wide-open park.

  “Do you mean to say,” Day said, “that someone has escaped from a prison?”

  “More than one.” The boy was excited, his small pale face lit up from inside. “A daring escape from Bridewell. A legion, a host, at least twelve or a hundred bloody murderers are on the loose.”

  “Twelve or a hundred? You’ve left yourself a wide margin.”

  The boy nodded. “It’s all hands tonight. Sir Edward wants ever’body.”

  “Get in here, boy.”

  Day waited while the boy scampered past him into the house. He took one more look up and down the street, closed the blue door, and bolted it. On his way to the stairs, he pointed at a chair in the receiving room.

  “Sit there,” he said. “I won’t be a moment. Got to put on some shoes.”

  “I can find my own way back to the Yard, sir.”

  “Not if what you say is true. You just wait here for me and I’ll make sure you arrive back there safely.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Day hurried up the stairs with his wife. As he ran, he let the slippers fall from his feet and clatter down the stairs behind him.

  Chapter 3

  Claire wasted no time, pulling out a suit from the wardrobe for him and hurrying to the dresser where he kept his cuffs and collars, studs and buttons in the top drawer. Her nightgown swirled around her as she moved, and he took a moment to appreciate her natural grace, even as uncomfortable as he knew she was.

  “This isn’t . . . Most of your collars are at the laundry,” she said. “They won’t be delivered until later today. This is the only one left, and you haven’t worn it in ages. It’s limp.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Day quickly stripped to his underwear and began to dress himself.

  “I’m setting out your special cufflinks. The ones Mr March gave you last Christmas.”

  “Those things? They’re ridiculous. Like something from a penny novel, toys hidden here and there, completely defeating the regular purpose of a thing. And they’re enormous! I’m sure the ordinary cufflinks will be fine.”

  Claire sat heavily on the edge of the bed and watched him button his shirt. She pulled her dressing gown tighter around her and retied the sash.

  “Where did you go, Walter?”

  “Nowhere. It was hot in here. I needed to get out of the house for a bit.”

  “To get away from me, you mean.”

  Day stopped looking for cufflinks. He picked up the box she had set out for him and went to the bed. He wanted to put an arm around his wife, to comfort her, but he felt suddenly awkward and so he busied himself fastening his shirtsleeves.

  “I’m anxious, that’s all it is.”

  “I know this isn’t what you married.” Claire looked down at her belly, swelling into her lap. “But Walter, I miss you when you’re gone.”

  He smiled at her. “I was taking a walk. That’s all it was. Couldn’t sleep.”

  He straightened his cuffs and put an arm around her, and she settled against him. Then she straightened up and grabbed his hand.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Oh, I skinned my knuckles on a tree. It’s nothing.”

  “Walter?”

  “Really. It’s nothing. Don’t be silly.”

  “I’ll be as silly as I please.” She kissed his hand. “Let’s put an ointment on these scratches before they fester.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Put ointment on them anyway. Indulge me.”

  “I always indulge you. You are the smartest and prettiest and silliest person I know, and I have to keep you happy or you’ll remember you might have married old Sam Whatsisname instead of me.”

  “That’s true. Let’s never forget good old Sam Whatsisname. So you didn’t meet any prettier girls on the towpath tonight? Girls without giant bellies?”

  “I prefer giant bellies. How did you know I walked along the towpath?”

  “I’m sorry, Walter, but you smell like horse manure.”

  “That was a choice. I thought you might appreciate a new perfume.”

  “If only it were new. Horse manure has become your regular scent, you know.”

  “I’ll step in different kinds of manure and get your opinion. We’ll see what you prefer.”

  “Please do.” She pulled back and looked at him, serious. “Oh, Walter, you are happy, aren’t you? Or, at least, not too unhappy?”

  “I am very happy every waking moment I spend with you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I hate to leave you again, but I’ll be back as soon as I possibly can.” He rose and went to the bedroom door, paused with his hand on the knob. “You’ll be all right?”

  “We have at least two weeks before the baby’s due, and I have Fiona here if I need anything. Don’t worry. Just be careful and come back to me today. I refuse to raise this baby by myself.”

  “Of course.”

  “And, Walter?”

  “Yes.”

  “You might think about putting on your trousers before you leave.”

  Day looked down. He was bare-legged, in just his long woolen underpants and socks and garters.

  “I thought I might give the other boys at the Yard a show.”

  “Let’s save that for another day.”

  “Oh, very well.”

  Day rushed to put on his trousers, and Claire fetched braces for him. He gave her a quick kiss and dashed out of the bedroom to the stairs. He was reasonably certain he would have remembered his trousers on his own, but his thoughts were completely muddled. He only hoped that Claire hadn’t seen the fear he was hiding from her.

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