A Gift for Guile (The Thief-takers)

by Alissa Johnson

  Although she wasn’t inclined to mention it aloud, she understood why Samuel questioned the risk she took in coming to town. It was dangerous for her here. And having spent the last nine years rusticating in the country, she was a little out of practice when it came to facing danger—a fact she’d been acutely conscious of when she’d been alone.

  She drew plenty of attention today, of course. Some people gawked at Samuel, either because they recognized him or simply because of his size. Others seemed to find the sight of a woman in deep mourning out for a stroll with a fashionable gentleman in Spitalfields simply an interesting spectacle. But those extra looks didn’t bother her today. With Samuel at her side, she felt safe. Cautious still, but emboldened.

  They came to a stop outside a tavern. Samuel frowned at the sizable group of men visible through the window, then turned and studied the bustling street.

  She knew exactly what he was thinking. Was it better to leave her outside alone or expose her to the sort of men who drank in the middle of the day?

  “I’ll wait here,” she offered, not because she was particularly afraid of the men inside, but because the scent of tobacco smoke and ale never failed to bring up memories that made her queasy.

  “Stay close,” Samuel instructed. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  When he left, she turned and watched the passing pedestrians, hoping for a glimpse of the boy or young man they sought.

  “Spare a coin, mum?”

  She looked over her shoulder at the unexpected question and discovered a man lounging against the wall not ten feet away. He stood in the shadow of a neighboring shop blind, and his head was bowed low. All she could see of his features beneath the brim of his hat was a bullish chin.

  Her skin prickled with nerves. He’d not been there a moment ago. She was certain of it. And people who hid their faces couldn’t be trusted.

  She ought to know. “I’m afraid I—”

  “Have a heart. I only need enough for a crust of bread.”

  It didn’t look as if he was in immediate need of feeding. He looked hale and strong, and his workman’s clothes, while worn, were free of patches and frayed ends. She glanced at his feet. Beneath several layers of caked-on dirt was a very fine pair of boots.

  She wondered what poor sod had been forced to relinquish them.

  This man didn’t need her coin, and she was tempted to deny him just on principle. But if he decided to press the matter…

  She dug into her bag and retrieved a coin, which she held out for him. Better she waste a little money and be rid of him quickly.

  The stranger stepped to the edge of the shadows and reached for the coin. His fingers closed over her own and lingered.

  She snatched her hand back. “That’s plenty for something to eat. Now—”

  “You can’t do better?” He cocked his head, as if studying her, and she noticed a small, indented scar on the side of his chin. “You look as if you could. Looks as if someone set you up proper.”

  Something in his tone made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She shifted the grip on her parasol.

  It was dangerous for her here.

  “That is all I have for you, sir. Be on your way.”

  “Oh, I think you’ve—”

  The shop door opened behind her. A second later, Samuel was at her side. He took one look at the man and moved to stand in front of her. “Problem?”

  The man hunched his shoulders, bent at the waist, and bobbed his head like a serf genuflecting to his master. “None, sir. Not a bit of it.” He held the coin up and began to back away, bowing all the while. “The lady showed me a kindness, is all. Bless her. Sir. Mum. Fair day to you both.”

  Samuel took a step forward, but Esther stopped him with a touch on the arm and a shake of her head. They had quite enough on their hands without bothering with a false beggar.

  As the stranger turned a corner and disappeared, uneasiness gave way to annoyance. “Oh, he was all deference and good manners with you, wasn’t he?” she grumbled.

  Samuel looked down at her. “What did he say to you?”

  “He wanted coin, that’s all.” He’d been aggressive about it, and he’d been strange. But this was London. Aggressive and strange were to be expected.

  “He was hiding his face.”

  “I noticed.” Transferring her parasol to the other hand, she wiggled the tension out of her fingers. “I also noticed, as I’m sure you did, that he was considerably too large to have been the man from the station.”

  “Men don’t hide their faces unless they have a reason.”

  “I suspect someone wants him for something.” The fine boots, like as not. “But he’s not the man we’re looking for, and if we start chasing after every suspicious, overzealous beggar in the city, we’ll never get around to doing anything else.”

  Samuel considered this a moment before agreeing with a single nod. Taking her arm, he ushered her away from the tavern.

  “Did you learn anything inside?” she asked as they crossed the street.

  “No.”

  “Pity, but—oh, look there.” She pointed toward a trio of young girls sitting on the curb and industriously arranging the small piles of flowers at their feet into nosegays they placed in baskets.

  “The flower girl in the green dress was here on Tuesday. I didn’t speak with her, but she might remember the boy.”

  All three girls scrambled to their feet as Esther and Samuel approached.

  The girl in green held out her half-filled basket. “Flowers for the lady, sir?”

  “Thank you, no. I’m looking for a boy. Somewhere near to eight years of age, dark hair, large eyes. He was on this street on Tuesday, possibly carrying a note.”

  “Big eyes and dark hair?” the girl in green repeated.

  “You know him?” Samuel asked.

  The girl looked him over with a shrewd expression, then tapped her basket. “I’ve carnations, violets, roses, and lavender, sir. Sweetest you’ll find anywhere. And only two pennies a bunch.”

  Samuel heaved a sigh. “Right.”

  He purchased a nosegay of violets and lavender and shoved it at Esther without any ceremony whatsoever. Without so much as looking at her, in fact.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she muttered under her breath and plucked the flowers from his fist before he could damage the blooms. She carefully inserted the small stems into the belt at her waist next to her chatelaine bag. “You’re quite the most romantic automaton I know.”

  “What’d she call you?” one of the girls asked. “Auto-what?”

  “Ignore her. What do you remember?”

  Rather than answer Samuel directly, the flower girl gave her friends a knowing bob of the head. “Could be Lizzy’s boy.”

  The youngest of the girls made a face. “Lizzy Hopkins?”

  “No, not Hopkins,” the third girl retorted with the impatience of an older sister. “Causer. Her with all them pretty-eyed lads.”

  “Do you have a name?” Samuel inquired.

  The girl in the green dress shook her head. “Just Lizzy Causer’s lads.” She pointed down the street. “Peerpoint Alley. Mind you, I won’t be having them flowers back if it ain’t him.”

  “Thank you,” Esther called out as Samuel took her by the elbow and hurried her off.

  In the wrong direction.

  “Where are we going?” she demanded. They’d just come down this stretch of road. One would think a man with a keen memory might recall that sort of detail.

  “Not we,” Samuel replied. “You. You are not going down that alley.”

  She didn’t want to go down any alley, particularly. While she very much hoped the denizens of Peerpoint Alley were all the very best of people, she wasn’t eager to risk her neck on it. “I don’t see how it can be avoided. You can’t find him without me.
You’ve never seen him.”

  “I have a surname, an approximate age, and a description. If he’s there, I’ll find him. And you”—he stopped outside a milliner’s shop they’d already visited—“will wait in this shop until I come for you.”

  “But I want to speak with this boy.” She also wanted to be of use. She had her daggers strapped to her ankles. Where was the sense in Samuel risking his neck all alone?

  “I’ll bring the boy to you.”

  She pulled her arm away. “That is ridiculous. You heard the flower girl. Lizzy Causer has all them boys. What if she has a dozen of them? You can’t haul them all out one by one.”

  “How could she have a dozen boys near eight years of age?”

  She didn’t really think there would be a dozen. She’d been thinking more along the lines of three or four and indulging in a bit of hyperbole. But if he really wanted an answer, she’d give him one. “She might have stepchildren, or she might have several sets of twins between the ages of six and eleven, which might easily be confused with eight years of age. Or she might have both and—”

  “Get in the shop, Esther.”

  She wished she could cross her arms, but the blasted parasol was in the way. She closed it with a smart snap instead. “That sounds like an order, Samuel.”

  He took a long, deep breath through his nose. “One order,” he ground out. “I want to be able to give you one order a day whilst you are here. And I want you to follow it without question and without complaint. That is not an unreasonable request.”

  “You’re trying to change the rules.” She didn’t have any objections to that. She liked her rules a little flexible. “Very well. But in return, you must follow one order a day from me.”

  “Get in the shop.”

  “I am not”—she reached out and pulled down the arm he’d thrown up so imperiously to indicate the shop’s door—“getting in the—”

  “Is that him?”

  “What?” Esther followed his gaze, turning around. “Where?”

  Samuel nodded toward a small dark-haired, big-eyed boy sitting at the entrance of a completely different alleyway across the street. Not picking pockets, thank God. He was shaving kindling from a small stump of wood with an ax blade that looked far too big and unwieldy for his small hands.

  “It is,” she said, dropping her hand. “That’s him. How did you know?”

  “Big eyes, dark hair, roughly eight years of age, not far from Peerpoint Alley.”

  As Samuel and Esther neared, the boy pushed aside overlong bangs and looked up, and up. His big brown eyes widened. “Afternoon, guv.”

  “What is your name, lad?”

  “Henry, sir. Henry Causer.”

  Esther nudged Samuel aside—honestly, did the man have to approach every situation with intimidation?—and leaned down a little, hoping to put the child at ease.

  “Do you remember me, Henry? You brought a note to me on Tuesday.” She pointed down the street. “At the old clothes shop.”

  The boy’s expression turned wary as he squinted for a clear look at her face. “Maybe. I brought a note to a widow Tuesday.”

  Samuel nudged her back. “Do you know where to find the man who gave you the note?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Two bob if you take us to him.”

  Henry shook his head. “Not worth me skin, sir.”

  “Is the man not to be trusted, then?” Samuel asked.

  “He’s not a bad sort. But his friends…” Henry finished the thought with a hitch of one bony shoulder.

  “Would you lead us to him for a half crown?” Esther offered.

  Henry thought about it. “I got a name.”

  A false one, no doubt. Esther suspected he wouldn’t offer the real one for a fortune. Not if it meant putting himself at risk.

  “I’ve an idea. I need…” She dug through the bag at her waist and found her small notepad and pencil.

  She tore out a sheet of paper, scribbled out a hasty note, and showed it to Samuel.

  Pddy station. 5:00 p.m. Wed. I will be alone.

  He snatched it out of her hand. “No.”

  She snatched it right back. “Yes.”

  “No.” He reached for the note again.

  She lifted the note up high, realized how ridiculous that was, and stuck it behind her back instead. “Yes. We can discuss the particulars of it”—she bobbed her head sideways at the boy—“later.”

  “There will be no discussion.”

  She hitched up a shoulder. She was going. And so was he, with any luck, but if he didn’t wish to discuss it, all the better for her.

  Turning to the boy, she folded the note in quarters. “How does this sound, Henry? I will give you a crown to deliver this note to the man. If he follows the instructions inside, either I or this gentleman will meet you here one week from today at three o’clock in the afternoon and pay you an additional sovereign.”

  The boy’s mouth dropped open at the exorbitant bribe, but he quickly snapped it shut again. “I can’t make him do nothing. And how do I know you’ll make good on your promise?”

  “You can’t, and you don’t. But you’ll have a crown regardless.” And a much better chance at an entire sovereign if he delivered the note. All at little to no risk to himself.

  The boy took a quick nervous look down both ends of the street, then held out a grubby hand. “Let’s have it, then.”

  She handed him the note and reached into her bag for the coin, but Samuel stopped her with a shake of his head.

  “Wait.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out four shillings. “Do you have one more?”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Just…” He wiggled his fingers.

  She gave him a shilling, which he passed off with the others to the boy.

  Henry tucked the note and coins away, gathered up his wood and blade, and dashed down the alleyway.

  Next to her, Samuel shifted his feet restlessly.

  “You want to follow him,” she guessed.

  He grunted, which, on this occasion, she took to mean yes. She had half a mind to follow him as well, but a boy like that would slip through a window or door the moment he suspected he was being followed.

  “Why did you do that?” she asked Samuel as they turned to leave. “Give him five shillings instead of a crown?”

  “Because there’s likely someone with whom he is obligated to share some portion of his income for the day, if not all of it.”

  “Oh, I see.” By giving the boy several coins instead of just one, Samuel had given him a chance to keep at least some of the money for himself. “I told you,” she said, smiling at him as they turned to leave. “Not such a hard man.”

  “You are not meeting that man at Paddington station, Esther.”

  “Very well, I take it back,” she grumbled as they steered around a set of carts. “You’re like a stodgy, disapproving older brother, you know.” She thought about that. “Worse, you’re like the best friend of an older brother. You assume all the overbearing familiarity without having any right to it.”

  He looked at her with disbelief. “You’d not spend a night at my house, but you would accuse me of being stodgy?”

  “It isn’t the same.”

  “How is that not the same?”

  “Being stodgy and overbearing makes you a bother. Being an unmarried, unchaperoned woman under your roof makes me…less.”

  “Less what?”

  Less respectable. Less of a lady. Less than him. “Just less.”

  He digested this in silence as they made their way back toward the carriage, staying quiet for so long, she began to wonder if he’d heard her at all.

  “It was not my intention to make you feel less,” he said at last. “It is not how I see you.”

  “Isn’t it?” She�
��d meant to level an accusation, not ask a question, but it had come out all wrong. She sounded uncertain and wary, maybe even a little bit hopeful. Embarrassed, she turned away to stare at the fruit and vegetable vendors across the street as if they were the most fascinating things in the world. “Don’t answer that.”

  Please don’t answer that.

  “I don’t mind answering.”

  She might very well mind the answer, no matter how hard she tried not to care. “It’s not important. I didn’t mean—”

  “You’re not less. Therefore I do not see you as less. Simple as that.”

  She’d not say thank you. It wasn’t really a compliment, no matter how good it felt. “I am trying, you know, to be more.”

  Why, oh why, could she not bite her tongue?

  Samuel looked at her thoughtfully. “I believe you might be.”

  She certainly wasn’t going to thank him for that. Might be, indeed.

  Five

  She was not going to Paddington station.

  Samuel understood, even appreciated, that Esther was quick-witted, courageous, and skilled with her blades. He accepted that he couldn’t send her home, or even leave her behind at the hotel. But she was not, under any circumstances, going to meet the strange young man at the station alone. It was ludicrous, and he would not allow it.

  Convincing her of the wisdom of his decision, however, was going to be tricky.

  “You do realize,” he began casually, “that even if I agree to let you go to Paddington—”

  “It is not your decision to make.”

  “Even if you go to Paddington,” which she would not do, “it will be after Gabriel returns. He’ll be back day after tomorrow.”

  She gave a disgruntled sigh. “Yes, I did consider that. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to lie to Gabriel? Keep my presence in London a secret?”

  “No.”

  “I thought not,” she replied without any sign of resentment. “Well, it can’t be helped. I had to give the young man time to make arrangements.”