I thanked the man, ignored Mr Switzer and was back in my carriage in no time at all. A short while later we were outside the building where Succor had its offices.
‘I won’t be long,’ I assured Mercer, and before he could remind me that was exactly what I’d said when I’d visited St John’s and been attacked by Lulu, I hurried inside.
I was greeted by Matron, who advised me that Mr Richter was not there.
‘Are you sure?’ I was so anxious to talk to Sebastian I was not thinking straight and asked her pardon immediately for questioning her. ‘You see, I was told he was always here at this time and—’
Matron had been seated behind her desk, an open book in front of her, and she unclipped the spectacles from the bridge of her nose and stood to face me before I could finish my protest. I am a tall woman; Matron was taller still and she looked down her long, pointed nose at me. There was but a single lamp lit on the desk and the afternoon was gray. In the thin light, her eyes were bottomless black pits.
‘I would certainly know if Mr Richter was on the premises,’ she said, and before I could tell her that of course she was right, she stepped away from her desk. ‘But if it will placate you, Miss Barnum, and convince you that I am neither duplicitous nor forgetful, I will check his office.’
‘No, really, you don’t have to—’
But before I could apologize yet again and tell her not to inconvenience herself, she disappeared into the short hallway that led to Sebastian’s office.
I cannot say I held it against her for taking her time to come back. Questioning her reply to my simple request had been rude and I am not usually ill-mannered. I blamed my behavior on nerves, vowed I wouldn’t let them get the best of me and waited for her to return so I could explain as much without, of course, mentioning that she must forgive me for I had no experience preparing my answer to a man’s proposal of marriage.
One minute of waiting turned to two and, too edgy to keep still, I glanced at the book open on Matron’s desk. It was a ledger similar to the one I’d looked through the first night I had visited Succor and inquired after Madeline Emerson. A list of names, some signed, some printed out, some scrawled – women who had arrived at Succor seeking help and, hopefully, a reunion with those who would love and care for them.
Betty Smallwood.
Sarah Jane Smiley.
Elizabetha Dorothy Jemima Arbower.
My heart squeezed so that my chest ached, and I put a fist to it and read the name again below my breath, sure that my eyes must be playing tricks on me.
‘Elizabetha Dorothy Jemima Arbower.’
‘Is there something you need help with, Miss Barnum?’
Matron’s voice crackled through the silence and, startled, I winced and looked up to find her watching me from the doorway.
‘There are …’ Since it was obvious I’d been looking at the ledger, there was no use lying about it. I pointed that way in what I hoped was an airy, unconcerned gesture. ‘There are so many women listed in your book. I was thinking how terribly sad it is. It must be especially difficult for you, for surely you know more about these women than most. For instance, this one, this Elizabetha Dorothy Jemima Arbower …’ I pretended I had to read the name carefully. ‘What an unusual name! What is her story? Why is she listed here in Succor’s book?’
As solid and impressive as the USS Constellation itself, Matron inched back her shoulders, clasped her hands together at her waist and closed in on me, the desk and the book where the name was so tantalizingly written.
‘She is no longer here.’ With a snap, Matron closed the book and Elizabetha Dorothy Jemima Arbower was gone.
Goodbye. Adios.
With a cough, I cleared away the tight ball of emotion that suddenly blocked my breathing. ‘Gone? I suppose that is good news. Has she gone far away?’
‘Back to her family,’ Matron said quite smoothly.
‘That’s …’ I pulled in a breath and reminded myself that, until I knew more, there was little I could say and nothing I could do. ‘That’s wonderful. A wonderful success story for you and for Succor.’
‘And for Mr Richter.’
‘Yes, for Mr Richter. Yes, of course.’
Having no choice, and no notion of Sebastian’s whereabouts, I waited until that evening and sent a message across the street to his home.
I should have been pleased that he waited but a few minutes to show up on Phin’s front doorstep.
Had we been meeting to discuss nothing more out of the ordinary than a marriage proposal, I would have been.
The way it was, I cast a glance at Charity, who’d been sitting in the parlor when Sebastian arrived and, as I expected she would, she understood our need for privacy. Or perhaps the small smile playing across her thin lips when she left the room spoke less about thoughtfulness and more about how eager she was to see me gone and out of the Barnum household for good.
‘Dear Evie!’ Sebastian closed in on me as soon as the door shut behind my sister-in-law. He took my hand in his and smiled down at me, his expression so tender it clutched at my heart. ‘I cannot tell you how anxious I have been, like a boy waiting for the first day of spring! You have been thinking about my offer?’
‘Of little else,’ I admitted. ‘In fact, I came to see you this afternoon to discuss it.’
It took him a moment to catch my meaning. ‘Came to see me? But I was not at home.’
‘I did not go to your home.’
Another few seconds passed while he considered this. ‘You do not mean … you cannot mean you went to the brewery.’
‘They told me there that you spend each Thursday afternoon at Succor.’
‘As I do.’
‘And yet, you were not there, either.’
Sebastian’s expression did not so much still as it froze, and for the space of a dozen heartbeats, neither of us took a breath. At least not until his grip tightened around my fingers.
‘Have you been tracking me?’ he asked.
‘Hardly.’ I was afraid this was exactly what he might say, exactly what he might think, and finally hearing the word and confirming my fears made them seem nothing more than what I knew they were, figments of my imagination. I smiled up at him. ‘I was eager to speak to you.’
‘And you think that gives you leave to follow me?’
His question was too sharp, the words too accusatory. I pulled my hand from his grasp.
‘I did not follow you. I went where the man at the brewery told me you might be.’
‘The man at the brewery …’ His golden brows low over his eyes, he grumbled the words. ‘I have no doubt it was Mr Gruber. He should know better.’
‘Better than to answer a simple question?’
Sebastian’s lips thinned. ‘Better than to decide who should know my whereabouts and who should not.’
‘And yet …’ We were at cross-purposes, and for the life of me I could not figure out why. Still, a tingle skittered over my skin and though I shook my shoulders to rid myself of it, I could not banish the feeling of apprehension. ‘If I am to be your wife—’
‘Are you?’
There it was – the question, pure and simple, without flowery promises, without the mention of children and all that meant, both to me and to Sebastian.
‘I had come to the brewery to tell you my decision,’ I said. ‘And when you were not on the premises I went to Succor so that I might speak to you there.’
I do believe it was the first he realized my voice was every bit as sharp as his. He pulled in a rough breath and let it out slowly. ‘Yes. Of course.’ As if a cloth had wiped it away, his stony expression melted. There was not so much tenderness in his smile as there was tolerance, though whether that was meant for me (the very thought caused me to bristle) or for himself and what was surely a failing for making assumptions too quickly, I could not tell.
‘You must forgive me, dear Evie,’ he finally said. ‘It has been a long day and I have been able to think of little other than
seeing you again. I am afraid it has overstrung my nerves.’
Ah, an admission the fault was his! I should have been pleased.
Except the way it was, with the weight of all I needed to discuss with him pressing against me like a physical thing, I could find no joy in his confession. ‘I know how you feel,’ I told him, going to the other side of the table to allow myself some space and what felt like more room to breathe. ‘I have been having much the same sort of day.’
We offered each other a tentative smile across the width of Charity’s new table, both our thoughts, I believe, already on the future and all we might mean to each other, all we might accomplish together. Only …
I lifted my chin. ‘Who is Elizabetha Dorothy Jemima Arbower?’ I asked him.
It was not a figment of my imagination nor a trick of the light. Sebastian really did wince, and he really did seek to cover up his reaction with a shake of his shoulders. ‘I have no idea who you’re talking about.’
‘Perhaps you do not seeing as how you are not involved in the day-to-day operations of Succor. But I do believe Matron knows. Or perhaps your cousin, Sonya, may be able to help me with more information, for Sonya is certainly personally involved in Succor’s important work.’
‘Yet Sonya hardly knows every woman who comes through the door.’
‘Did I say Elizabetha Dorothy Jemima Arbower ever came through the door?’ I fought to keep my voice from betraying the sudden panic that built inside me. ‘I said nothing of her being the recipient of Succor’s charity.’
‘Aha! But you did …’ Like a schoolmaster instructing an especially doltish student who would not otherwise see the light, he waved a finger at me and tipped his head in what might have been a playful gesture if I was feeling less terrified, less worried, more charitable.
‘You did mention this Elizabetha Dorothy …’ He fumbled over the rest of the name, muttered ‘damn,’ below his breath so that I was not supposed to hear it and sailed right on. ‘It is an impossible name and I cannot remember it! You did mention the woman’s name in the same breath as you talked of Succor. Naturally, I made the connection.’
‘As well you should. Elizabetha Dorothy Jemima Arbower came to Succor for help. Her name is in the ledger.’
His laugh was a little too hearty. ‘I am glad of it. The more women who come, the more we are able to help, and the more we are able to help the more word will spread that there is hope to be found inside our walls.’
‘Yet I do not think Elizabetha feels so much hope. You see, she has disappeared.’
It was neither a scowl nor a frown that turned Sebastian’s face to stone. This was something colder and less forgiving and, realizing it, a sharp, fierce tension built inside me.
‘What are you saying, Evie?’ he wanted to know.
‘I am saying only that I’m curious, that I’m wondering what might have happened to the woman.’
‘And I am saying I haven’t even the smallest idea of who she is, why she might have come to Succor or where she might have gone. If she did, indeed, come to us for help and now she is gone, that must mean we were able to provide her with assistance. Perhaps we reunited her with her family. Perhaps we worked to find her employment somewhere in the west and she’s gone there to begin a new life. Perhaps – because it does happen and I will not insult either your intelligence or my own by pretending it doesn’t – she decided that she did not want our help. Some women do. They prefer life on the streets or in the cathouses. I do not understand why. Rather than accept our charity, they would rather forage in the gutters.’
As Lulu had done.
Ice settled in my stomach and howled through my veins and it was that, perhaps, that made it impossible for me to move, even when Sebastian closed in on me.
The hand he settled on my arm was warm, but there was a chill in the depths of his blue eyes. ‘Do you know this woman?’ he asked.
‘I saw her name. In Matron’s book. When I stopped at Succor this very afternoon. I thought it such an odd name and it gave me pause.’
‘A name. Really? Perhaps we should inform your brother, dear Evie, that you have talents of mind reading that he might display in his museum. You saw but a name in a book and you surmised not only that the woman is gone from Succor but that she has somehow mysteriously disappeared. You are gifted, indeed.’
Did I manage an airy laugh? I am not sure how, or even why, I thought I had to. ‘It is nothing like that. It is simply because such an unusual name sparked my curiosity. I asked Matron, of course. She is the one who told me Elizabetha is gone.’
‘But not that she’d disappeared.’ He added a twist to the final word as I remembered Phin had once done when reading Irving’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow to Charlotte as he sought to add a mysterious eeriness to every word.
‘No,’ I told him. ‘Matron did not use such a word.’
‘Of course not.’ As quickly as he’d grabbed me, Sebastian let go of my arm and marched across the room, taking his hat from the table as he went. ‘I suppose I should be grateful to have seen this side of you now, Evie, before things go further with us. Have you always been prone to such imaginings?’
‘It is simply curiosity.’
‘And I am simply not amused.’ He clapped his hat on his head and turned his back to me. He was already at the door when he stopped, and I saw his shoulders rise and fall. He spun to face me. ‘I am sorry. As I told you, it has been a long day and I am hungry and tired. I fear neither of us is at our best this evening. We will talk tomorrow.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘Perhaps by then you will have abandoned these imaginings of yours and made up your mind about what really matters between us.’
He left before I could tell him I already had.
I called for Mercer and left for St John’s immediately.
EIGHTEEN
‘It is very late, Miss Evangeline.’
Frederick Withnower blinked back his surprise at seeing me. Or perhaps he had already been asleep by the time I pounded on the door of St John’s House of Hospitality and he was trying to wake up so he might make sense of my sudden appearance. ‘I am certain Lulu is already in her room.’
‘Yes, I was counting on it.’ I brushed past him and made for the stairway. ‘I must speak to her.’
‘Are you sure?’ I had already ascended two steps when Frederick’s question rang out and I stopped and looked down to where he stood at the bottom of the stairway. ‘The last time you spoke to Lulu, she had just been given a dose of laudanum, so she was calm. This evening, you will not have the same advantage. When she last saw you here in the hallway …’
‘Yes. I well remember it.’ With all the thoughts swirling through my head, I wasn’t sure how I managed a smile, but I supposed it was worth a try, to reassure Frederick as well as myself. ‘I do believe I may have discovered what agitated her so.’ I unpinned the Succor ribbon from my cloak and tucked it in my reticule. ‘Perhaps she will feel more kindly toward me this time and, even if she does not …’ I pulled in a stuttering breath. ‘I must speak to her. It is very important.’
He inclined his head and followed me up the stairs when I made my way to the dormitories where the women stayed and, from there, down the passageway to Lulu’s tiny room.
‘Lulu.’ When I made to rush into the room, Frederick stayed me with one hand and rapped his knuckles on the door. ‘Lulu, you have a visitor.’
‘Don’t want the mare and the horse. Stay away from the green door!’
Frederick and I exchanged looks, and he must have read the determination in my eyes; without a word, he stepped back to allow me into the room.
Though she was still dressed in the dark gown she must have worn that day, Lulu was on the bed, her shoes still on, her knees pulled up to her chest, her fiery hair around her shoulders like the skewed halo of an unlikely saint.
I wasted no words. ‘Lulu,’ I told her. ‘I need your help.’
She wrinkled her nose and studied me for a minute. ‘Don’t know you,’
she mumbled and, as if to prove it meant she could not trust me, she scooted farther away and tucked herself in the corner where the bed met the wall.
That was fine with me; it gave me room enough to sit on the bed with her. ‘You’re right. You don’t know me. My name is Evangeline Barnum, and I need you to leave St John’s for a short while and come with me.’
Her eyes darted to Frederick, who I do believe might have given her some assurance if he had known what I was talking about. Then again, if he’d known what I was talking about, I doubt he would have approved.
‘She’s a friend,’ he told Lulu. ‘And you don’t have to do what she asks, but you must listen to her.’
‘Must.’ Lulu wrapped her arms around her knees. ‘Won’t leave. Won’t go.’
‘You don’t have to go far away. Not like Elizabetha did,’ I told her. ‘You only have to come with me for a short ride.’
When she shook her head, her hair shivered around her shoulder. ‘Won’t go. Can’t take me. Won’t go.’
‘But you must.’ I had already put a hand on Lulu’s arm when I realized it was probably the wrong thing to do. I tensed, waiting for her to come at me but, much to my relief, she did not move and she did not speak. Her eyes, though, grew wide, and her bottom lip trembled.
I pulled my hand back to my side. ‘I’m sorry,’ I told her. ‘I did not mean to frighten you. I only need to make you see, Lulu, there is something terrible happening. I do believe you are the only one who can help me stop it.’
She was not convinced. I didn’t think she would be for I, myself, was not at all confident that I knew what I was talking about. The only thing I was sure of was that my words were as unintelligible to her as her mad rantings were to me, and they made as much sense. There was only one thing I could do to win her over.
Slowly, nerving myself for whatever might happen, I reached into my reticule, withdrew the Succor ribbon and held it out to Lulu.
Like an animal snared in a trap, she reared up on her knees and lunged for me, her arms out straight and her hands flat. When she slammed into me, I tumbled from the bed.
I landed with a grunt but little injury, and I was already back on my feet before Frederick could even come forward to help. When he did, I urged him to keep his place, fixing my gaze on Lulu. She had plucked the ribbon out of my hand when I fell, and now she held it between thumb and forefinger. In the light of the candle beside her bed, I saw tears well in her eyes.
Smoke and Mirrors Page 21
