by Brenda Novak
Nathaniel turned to the doctor. “What is it?”
“Can’t say for sure—”
“Where’s Alexandra?” Nathaniel glanced through the door that led to the adjoining examination room and the dormitory beyond, but all was quiet. They seemed quite alone in the house.
“That’s the problem, my good fellow,” Dr. Watts explained. “She’s gone. She left this morning with a picnic lunch and a list of dressmakers she intended to visit. And she’s not come back.”
“What?”
Dr. Watts sighed. “She’s a stubborn lass, your sister. I told her she wasn’t well enough to be up and about, but she kept insisting she felt fine. She was so eager to search for gainful employment, you know.”
“She promised to be gone only a few hours at most, just long enough to make a few inquiries,” Tutty cut in. “But she hasn’t returned, and we don’t know what to make of it.”
Nathaniel stood looking at the pair in astonishment. He had expected Alexandra to move on eventually. She needed to establish a new life in London. But he never dreamed she’d disappear so soon. “She didn’t arrange for other lodgings?”
“None we know of,” the doctor replied. “She made herself a dress, managed it in a single day, mind you. And she’s got the fabric to begin another still here—”
“I know she planned to return,” Tutty interrupted, wringing her hands. “She took only enough food for one small meal.”
Chapter 13
The burned-out warehouse was cold and drafty. Great gusts of wind whistled through the broken windows along the top, blowing rain inside until the wet nearly reached the circle of seamstresses pressed against the back wall.
Alexandra sat in a dim corner, bent over her work, struggling to see the tiny stitches in the wavering light of several candles. Her gaze flicked toward the windows as she acknowledged the storm gathering outside, but her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Dr. Watts and Mrs. Tuttle.
“What’s the problem, missy?” asked the woman next to her. Her long dark hair, streaked with gray, was pulled severely off her face. “Are ye too cold?”
Though her fingers and toes were nearly frozen, Alexandra shook her head. “No. Someone’s expecting me tonight, is all, and I’m far from being finished.” She jammed her needle back into the wool of the livery she sewed.
“Ye’d best stay till morning now anyway. The streets aren’t safe along the docks after dark, an’ ye won’t last long around ‘ere if ye miss yer deadline.”
Alexandra nodded. She’d walked a long way from the doctor’s residence, deep into the rabbit warrens of London, and was reluctant to start back so late. But she wished she could notify the doctor and Tutty somehow. She knew the pair would be worried about her.
Allowing herself a small sigh, she tried to concentrate on her work despite an audible growling in her stomach. Tutty had packed her a few slices of cold meat and a biscuit, but she’d eaten it long ago while she was still visiting dressmakers on the housekeeper’s list.
“I’m Mariah,” the woman volunteered. “How did ye come to be ‘ere? I mean, forgive my boldness, but ye seem, well, different from the rest of us.”
Alexandra glanced around the circle of drawn, pinched faces. The others were obviously tired, and judging from their clothes, poor. But then, the same thing could be said for most needlewomen.
“Another shop I visited, looking for work, told me Mr. Gunther is always hiring.”
Mariah nodded. “That’s true enough. Are ye new to London, then?”
“Yes.”
“Ah… that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
Mariah’s eyes darted across the room. She fell silent as Gunther, a short man with heavy whiskers who was almost as wide as he was tall, came to stand beside the circle of working women.
“I need to get these orders out of here,” he barked. “Come on, ladies, we’ve got deadlines.”
Mariah muttered something under her breath, making Alexandra glance up at her.
“What did you say?”
“I ‘ate Gunther,” she whispered. “An’ Gould is almost as bad.”
Gunther had hired her, but Alexandra could only assume Gould to be the stringy, fair-complexioned man who stood at her boss’s side.
“Are we all working, ladies?” Gunther’s words acted like the crack of a whip, making the seamstresses bow closer to their needles.
One, more bold than the rest, said, “Whippin’ a dead ‘orse won’t make ‘im run any faster.”
“If a horse don’t run as fast as I like, I get me another horse,” he bellowed back. “Anyone who goes home before they get their order done shouldn’t bother to come back.”
Alexandra frowned, wondering how she’d make it through the night. When she’d taken the job, she’d planned to return to Dr. Watts’s and begin the following morning. But Gunther had pressed her to start immediately, saying he had an order that needed filling right away. Now she realized just how ill-prepared she was to meet his demands. She was hungry and cold, with only a thin shawl to warm her, and she wasn’t as strong as she should be.
Silence reigned as the hour grew late. Even Mariah grew reticent, and Alexandra was glad. She scarcely had the energy to continue sewing, let alone provide any kind of interesting conversation. She was tempted to give up and leave, but the discouragement she had faced earlier in the day when dress shop after dress shop had turned her away had frightened her. What if she couldn’t find anything better?
Thunder cracked in the sky, louder than any cannon. A boisterous wind began to fling the rain ever farther into the room, blowing out several candles, and those women along the outer edge of the circle began to complain about the wet.
The other seamstresses seemed reluctant to move, but they could hardly continue to work without light. They rose, grumbling beneath their breath. Some held the remaining candles while others shoved the tables and chairs back even closer to the far wall. This done, they sat wordlessly and went back to work.
Eventually some of the seamstresses made pillows out of their aprons or shawls and found an empty place on the floor to grab a few minutes’ rest. Alexandra longed to do the same. Her tired, sore body ached for a bed, but she was determined to continue. She needed a job to provide some sort of stability in her life, and she welcomed anything with the potential to divert her thoughts from the one person who remained center stage: Nathaniel. Frustrating though it was, his face forever appeared in her mind’s eye. Even with work to distract her, she caught herself remembering him, the things he’d said, his smile, his touch, his pain.
“‘Ave ye ‘ad anythin’ to eat?” Mariah asked.
Alexandra shook her head.
“Then ‘ere.” Cold hands pressed a portion of a roll into her lap. It was a hard, crusty remnant of an earlier supper, but Alexandra was hungry enough to eat anything.
“Take a few ticks to rest,” the woman suggested.
“Thank you, but if I do, I’ll never get done.” Alexandra stuffed the entire roll into her mouth so her hands could remain free.
“Listen. I just finished my own work. I’ll stitch for ye if ye’ll take fifteen minutes or so an’ sleep.”
Surprised by the kindness of Mariah’s offer, Alexandra looked questioningly into her face. “But you could go home now.”
“I don’t mind ‘elpin’ ye for a while. Now pop along an’ do as I say.”
Carefully avoiding the small puddles caused by the rain, Alexandra lay down, wondering if she’d ever be able to get up again. Her back and arms ached, her head throbbed, and the cold, unyielding cement provided little comfort.
Still, she drifted into a dreamless sleep almost as soon as she lay down.
In what seemed like seconds, a gentle hand woke her. “I ‘ave to go now,” Mariah said. “Ye’ve been sleepin’ for an ‘our. That ought to ‘elp. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”
“An hour!” Alexandra scrambled to her feet even though her body still felt like she’d
been thrown from a horse. “You let me sleep an hour? And you’ve been working that entire time?”
“Aye, but I ‘ave to go now. I’ll be back in the mornin’.”
“Wait.” Alexandra clutched the other woman’s arm. “I’ll do the same for you sometime. I promise.”
“I’m sure ye will.” Mariah studied her, then lowered her voice. “Ye know, ye seem like a good lass. I ‘ate to see ye get into trouble, so let me give ye a piece of advice. Stay away from Gunther, if ye can.”
“Why?” she asked in surprise. But Mariah pulled away, leaving Alexandra to stare after her as she walked out onto the rain-spattered docks.
* * *
A man with a wet newspaper under his arm hurried down the street several blocks from Dr. Watts’s residence. The hour was so late and the weather so poor that he was the only person Nathaniel had seen in two hours of searching for Alexandra.
“Excuse me, sir.” Nathaniel nudged his horse forward.
The man turned, obviously surprised at being stopped in the middle of a downpour.
“Have you seen a lone young woman with blond hair and green eyes around these parts tonight?”
The man scowled as the wind blew rain into his face. “No,” he shouted above the inclement weather, then ducked his head and rushed away.
Nathaniel sighed. He was wasting his time. He’d never find Alexandra by rambling about without some clue to tell him where to look. Unfortunately, the dress shops on Tutty’s list were long closed, and he had no way of determining the identities of the owner or manager of each one, though he wouldn’t have hesitated to raise them from their beds if he could.
He sat in the downpour, blinking rain out of his eyes, a solitary figure. As much as he hated to give up, there was nothing he could do except return to the doctor’s and pray for better luck in the morning.
* * *
Alexandra was exhausted. She’d worked for nearly thirty-six hours with little sleep, and now she could only lay her head back on the cushioned seat of the pony-chaise as a chill wind whipped at the strands of hair straying from her bonnet. Occasionally drops of rain fell onto her cheeks from the black night overhead, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. She was oblivious to the weather, and almost everything else, until a coughing spell seized her. Then she sat up, her eyes blinking in bewilderment. It was so cold, and she’d had nothing to eat but the spot of tea Gunther had pressed on her earlier.
“Where are we?” she asked.
Her new boss sat at her side, driving. “You’re not well,” he told her. “I’m taking you home, where there is someone to care for you. Don’t worry, it’s only another street or two.”
It seemed as though they’d been traveling for hours. “But you said you’d take me back to Dr. Watts’s,” Alexandra protested, pulling her shawl more tightly about herself. She shivered. Her fingers were like ice, yet her face felt flushed.
“A hot bowl of soup, and you’ll be good as new. Believe me, I’ve got just the thing,” he said.
* * *
The rain began to fall more heavily, disturbing Alexandra’s sleep. Soaked to the skin, she wished for a heavy wool cloak to replace Mrs. Turtle’s knitted shawl. Then she realized that the chaise was no longer moving. Where was she?
Raising her head to look about, she saw that she was alone in a filthy street outside a tall, rickety building made of wood. It leaned sadly to one side as tattered drapes escaped from an open window on the second story to slap against the pane overhead. A light silhouetted the figures of a man and a woman in the same room. The male form clasped the woman from behind and tossed her onto a bed, and their laughter rippled down with the rain.
Climbing unsteadily to the ground, Alexandra clung to the side of the pony-chaise, feeling as though she might faint. All the strength was gone from her legs, but she forced herself to move. She had to find her way to Dr. Watts’s.
“Wait!”
Before she’d traveled more than three steps, the door to the teetering house opened. A girl came bounding down the front steps, despite wearing a full skirt, and skidded to a halt in front of her. “Going somewhere?” she asked, her eyes gleaming.
The most remarkable thing about this stranger, besides a broken front tooth, was a lovely feather boa that rested above a revealing bodice.
“I’m afraid I’m lost,” Alexandra admitted, wondering just what kind of woman dressed as this girl did. “Could you perhaps direct me to a constable?”
The girl whistled through her teeth, proving that she could put the broken one to good use. “I doubt there’s a constable who dares to walk these parts. I’ve never seen one, anyhow.”
Gunther came out of the house and descended the steps, his face dark with the shadow of night and his usual thick, black whiskers. “Maggie, go inside. Her room is ready now. I’ll handle it from here.”
“Can’t I help her settle in?” Maggie pleaded. “We’re friends already.”
Gunther scowled but acquiesced. “Very well. You can take her up.” He turned to Alexandra. “I’m going to see a friend of mine while you get some sleep. We’ll talk later.”
“I’m afraid there’s been some kind of misunderstanding,” Alexandra said. “I can’t stay here. My friends are expecting me.” She glanced from Gunther to the girl he had called Maggie. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but—”
“Nonsense.” Gunther took her by the elbow and began to pull her toward the house. “You’re only exhausted. I know the place don’t look like much, but Maggie’s happy here. Right, Mag?”
Medium brown curls bounced as Maggie nodded.
“You just need some rest. There’s a lot to be done come morning. I have a big order to get out, and I need you to be ready.”
Something told Alexandra Gunther was lying about: the order, but she was too ill to figure out why. She felt her legs give way and saw the ground rushing up to meet her only seconds before Gunther caught her in an iron grip.
“Watch out,” she heard him say to Maggie. “I’ll have to carry her in.”
She felt him swing her up into his arms, then heard him grunt while climbing the stairs. His breath came in heavy gasps by the time they entered the decrepit house.
Alexandra opened her eyes just long enough to see several female faces gaping at her. She heard the creak of a stair, smelled rotten food and sweat and bodies, and soon found herself lying on a large, rumpled bed in the middle of a room containing a washbasin and an overstuffed bureau. The walls, covered with purple lilac paper, were smudged with dirt and dulled by the years. A heavy shade covered one small window.
Time seemed to pass in an erratic fashion. Alexandra didn’t know if it had been minutes since the ride in the pony-chaise or hours, but she was grateful for the fire that raged at one end of the room.
Managing to climb off the bed, she crawled toward its warmth, anxious to dispel the terrible chill in her bones. She was so cold, not just on the outside, but deep within as well.
Glancing back, she cringed to see the bed she had been sleeping in and guessed it had been months since the linens were changed. Even in the flickering firelight she could see the brown stains of God knew what.
But she couldn’t worry about that. Not now. She stretched her fingers toward the flames.
“There’s our new lass.” A large woman with carrot-colored hair burst into the room, carrying a lamp. Freckles covered her face and arms and the good deal of bosom revealed by her low décolletage.
“I’m Caroline,” she announced. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to welcome you sooner, but I was rather… indisposed.” She laughed gaily as she set the lamp on the dresser. “I suppose Maggie took care of you all right. But now we must get those wet clothes off before you catch a chill.”
Alexandra wanted to tell her that it was far too late for that; she was already freezing. But her tongue was too thick and heavy to obey her will.
Caroline rummaged through the chest, withdrew a flimsy red nightdress and wrapper, and b
egan to dress Alexandra as though she were a doll.
“You don’t look well, love,” she commented, chafing Alexandra’s hands to warm them as a nanny might do for her ward. “We’d better get something hot down you. Gunther tells me you’ve had nothing but a cup of tea all day, and that will certainly never do. You’ll lose what precious few curves you have in no time.”
Alexandra was too weary to understand why Caroline, or whatever her name was, should be talking about curves. The woman’s voice was gentle, and at that moment, kindness was all that mattered. Alexandra needed a friend, someone to care for her, as she felt so incapable of caring for herself.
“Perhaps Drake will have to wait until morning to take a look at you,” she commented. “You couldn’t cross the channel like this.”
“What?”
“Just get in bed. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
The feel of the place was all wrong, the smells revolting. Gunther had led her to believe he was doing her a favor, but she was beginning to suspect him of putting something in the tea he had given her earlier. She had to leave, find her way back, except that she didn’t have the strength to stand, let alone propel herself to the door. Her eyelids soon grew so heavy, she couldn’t lift them any longer, and she let them close, welcoming the oblivion of sleep.
* * *
“Wake up. There’s someone who wants to see you.”
An insistent hand jiggled Alexandra awake. She blinked several times before a face came into focus. It was Caroline, the woman she had met before.
“Alexandra, lass, can you hear me? You’ve got your first bite.”
“Bite?” She had dyspepsia, maybe. She didn’t know anything about a bite. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her words sounding as slurred and unnatural as she felt.
“You don’t want Gunther to come after you. Come on, we have to get you ready.”