‘You went to Succor for help.’ I dared to put words to all I was thinking.
Her gaze shot to mine. ‘I won’t go. They won’t take me.’
I swallowed my fear and took a step closer. ‘I won’t let them take you, Lulu. I won’t let them take anyone. But you are the only person who can help me, and you must begin by telling me what happened to you and how you ended up here at St John’s. Did you have a family once? Are they now lost?’
When her breath caught, I knew I had touched upon a memory.
‘You had a father and a mother, perhaps brothers and sisters.’
She shook her head, and when she spoke her voice was so hushed I wondered if I’d imagined the words. ‘Husband. Son. Gone now. Dead.’
My heart squeezed and I dropped back on the bed, bending my head toward her and keeping my voice as low as hers so that Frederick could not hear. ‘I had a son, too,’ I told Lulu. ‘He is gone like your son is.’
When Lulu made a move toward me, I braced myself for another attack, but instead of coming at me she took my hand and wound her fingers through mine. Her hand was delicate and very cold. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
We sat in silence for a long while, two mothers with broken hearts, until Frederick put a hand on my shoulders.
‘Miss Evangeline,’ he said, ‘perhaps we might let Lulu rest?’
With a cough, I stripped the emotion from my voice. ‘Soon,’ I told him. ‘But for now …’
After a squeeze that spoke my sympathy and my understanding, I untangled my hand from Lulu’s and reminded myself that if I was to make sense of everything I’d seen at Succor, I must prod her further.
‘You were alone,’ I said, searching her expression for confirmation. ‘You had no place else to turn. I do believe that is when you sought aid at the Society for the Relief and Succor of Needy Women.’
The light nearby reflected the tear that slipped down her cheek so that it looked like blood.
‘Did you live there with the other women?’ I asked her. ‘I know they live above the Succor office and they are taught skills, and the good people there—’
Her gaze snapped to mine, so razor-sharp it cut my comment to shreds and I was forced to revise it.
‘The people there help find employment for the women. And they locate their families, too, if it is possible.’
She nodded.
‘But that is not what happened to you.’
This time, her nod was barely perceptible.
‘Did they take you somewhere else to live, Lulu? Away from the Succor office and the rooms upstairs? Will you show me the way? The way from Succor to the green door?’
She started shaking her head slowly, and the motion gained speed little by little until it was as frenzied as the look in her eyes.
‘Won’t go!’ Lulu wailed, as agitated as she had been calm only a moment before. ‘Can’t take me.’
‘I can’t,’ I said, and I knew my voice was too loud but I feared she would not hear me otherwise. ‘No one can take you. And no one can make you go. Not Mr Withnower and certainly not me. You must do this because you want to help, Lulu. You must make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
‘Goodbye. Adios,’ Lulu mewled.
‘Will you come with me, Lulu?’ I held out a hand.
She batted it away.
‘Really, Miss Evangeline …’ Frederick stepped forward. ‘You are asking for nothing more than ill-use and, when it is all over and you finally give up and leave, Lulu will be so troubled there will be nothing for it but for us to give her more laudanum to control her.’
I glanced over my shoulder at him. ‘I have no intention of leaving. Not until Lulu comes with me.’ I turned my attention back to her. ‘Perhaps, with your help, I will be able to locate Elizabetha. Was she your friend?’
Lulu nodded. ‘Came during the night. Thought I was asleep. But I saw. I saw it all.’
‘Did they give Elizabetha laudanum so as to quiet her?’
That handkerchief Lulu had clutched in her hand when she attacked me was beside her on the bed and she glanced that way. ‘Gone.’ Tugging at her hair, Lulu wept quietly.
‘We can search for her, Lulu. Perhaps we can find her.’
Lulu was quiet for so long, I thought she had either fallen asleep or that her mind had slipped to a place where the sadness did not sting so much. Finally, she sniffled and brushed her hands over her cheeks. ‘You will come?’
‘Yes.’ I let to a shaky breath. ‘I will come with you to the horse and the mare and the green door.’
‘To help Elizabetha?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Please, please show me the way.’
She slid off the bed and raced for the door and I thought it was the last we’d see her, but Lulu stopped when she got there. ‘I will find my coat,’ she said and she darted into the hallway.
Frederick was sure to question my motives as well as my sanity, so I was not the least surprised when he stepped forward. ‘What is happening? What do Lulu’s ravings have to do with that ribbon you had pinned to your cloak?’
‘I am not at all sure,’ I told him. ‘But I know that seeing the ribbon is what frightened her the afternoon I was here.’
‘And finding Elizabetha?’
‘Heaven help me, Mr Withnower, I did not wish to lie to Lulu, but I do not believe anyone will ever find Elizabetha.’
‘And yet …’
I scrubbed my hands over my face. ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, doing my best to keep the desperation from my voice. ‘I’m not sure. I only know that Lulu is the only one who can help. She’s the only one who can lead me to the green door and from there …’
I could not speak the words and, for a long while, Frederick stood and I sat in silence in the gloom of Lulu’s room. He, I was certain, was considering the possibility that I was every bit as mad as Lulu, and for this I could not fault him. In this matter, I questioned my sanity, too. I wondered if my quest for obtaining justice for Andrew, for locating Madeline, and now, for finding the answers to what – beside the unspeakable sadness at the loss of her family – had gripped Lulu with a fear that shaped her life, had also led me to a place where I could no longer see the world clearly or honestly.
Was I a fool, one who owed Sebastian Richter an apology along with an explanation for why I had questioned him so boldly earlier in the evening and why I had doubted his word?
Was I a meddlesome woman who could not control her flights of fancy, a marplot who should be ashamed to think good folk like Clarice and Frederick and Jeffrey might be capable of murder, that Sebastian, who certainly had committed no sin in having a missing woman’s name in a book devoted to nothing more than charity, might somehow be involved in a sinister plot to do …
What?
The questions swirled inside my head, taunting me, shaming me. Perhaps like my brother, I had too much imagination. While his led to schemes and dreams, had mine led me in a darker direction? If there was even a chance it was true – if I’d seen guilt where there was none and formed suspicions that were false – then there was only one thing I could do. It was late, but I had to leave St John’s. I had to go directly to Sebastian’s and tell him how sorry I was to have caused the contention between us.
I had already slid off the bed and moved to the door when Frederick spoke.
‘I’m coming with you,’ he announced. ‘Wherever it is you’re going.’
I could not find the words to tell him I was going home to beg forgiveness from a man who, except for the wanderings of my errant imagination, was good and true and kind.
He stepped forward. ‘If what you are about to do is dangerous, you will need prayers, surely, but you might also need a man at your side.’
‘I am grateful for your assistance,’ I told him. ‘You are a generous man. When I came here, I thought if perhaps you could take us to the place you first found Lulu, she might be able to remember and lead us from there to the place she came from and then we might unravel the mystery. Bu
t truly, Mr Withnower, on considering my plan, I wonder if I have created something out of nothing. Perhaps poor Lulu is simply mad. Perhaps there is nothing more to it than that. Perhaps I’ve seen boogeymen where there are none and I am not—’
Lulu stepped back into the room and my words froze and my mouth hung open. In the time she’d been gone, she had not gotten her coat as she had promised to do, but she had found shears.
All my doubts were suddenly erased, replaced by a surprise that was palpable and a curiosity so overwhelming, I could not have fought against it if I tried.
‘Your hair!’ I stepped forward, my hand out to Lulu, who had hacked off her glorious red hair. It was so short that her scalp showed in places.
‘No hair, no hair!’ Lulu’s eyes shone with tears but her smile was sly. ‘They won’t take me now!’
I did not understand what Lulu had done. I did not even try. Lulu, Frederick and I set out – as unlikely a trio as ever there was – back to the spot where Frederick had first discovered her rooting through the gutter. I told Mercer to wait. We disembarked from the carriage and, from there, we were under Lulu’s guidance.
‘Show me,’ I told her, squeezing her hand in the hopes of giving – and getting – courage. ‘Show me how you arrived at this spot. Had you been in the streets for days?’
She shook her head, glanced around and took off at a goodly pace. Frederick and I scrambled to catch up with her.
I do not know how long we walked or how much distance we covered as we trailed behind Lulu – I only know she was driven by a fire that was almost inhuman and by the time an hour had passed I was breathing hard. Still, I refused to lose her in the maze of streets we crossed, the parks we darted through or the alleyways where, time and again, we had to flatten ourselves against walls just so we might squeeze through.
We had just exited one such alley and stepped into the street when I lifted my head and breathed deep.
‘Hops,’ I said to Frederick and to Lulu now that she’d stopped to get her bearing. ‘Hops and malt. We are near the breweries in the Bowery and Lulu spoke of beer. We should have known!’
Frederick shook his head. ‘There is no way to ever know if a person such as Lulu speaks the truth or even what the truth might mean to her. I only know—’
What, he would have to wait to tell me, for Lulu caught sight of something she recognized and took off running.
We followed as best as we were able, dashing between the few carts and carriages still about at such a late hour, dodging do-nothings and drinkers and many a b’hoy, for we were well and truly in the Bowery now, and in the distance I could hear the sounds of a rollicking piano, of traffic and conversations.
At the next corner, Lulu came to a halt and looked both ways, and I knew when she saw what she was looking for. In spite of our recent exertion, her face paled. She had clapped a bonnet onto her head before we left St John’s and now she pulled the ribbon tighter beneath her chin and tucked in those few wisps of hair she had remaining.
‘Can’t see my hair, can’t see my hair,’ she mumbled.
‘They can’t see it,’ I assured her. ‘Only tell me, Lulu. Who are they?’
She did not answer but lifted her arm and pointed a trembling finger to a building but two from the corner where we stood.
I could ask no more of her and, one hand on her arm, I handed Lulu off to Frederick.
‘Oh, no!’ Though he dutifully wound an arm through Lulu’s to keep her from running away, Frederick would have none of it. ‘I am not going to allow you to go there alone, Miss Evangeline. Can’t you see Lulu is frightened? There may be danger.’
‘And I intend to confront none of it,’ I assured him. ‘I only wish to see what the building might be and I will be less conspicuous walking alone than we would as a group. Besides …’ Lulu had begun weeping quietly and I doubted she would hear, but I lowered my voice. ‘Whatever happened in this place, you are right, there might be danger, and more of it should someone there recognize Lulu.’
He knew I was right.
‘Here.’ Frederick put a hand in his pocket, brought out something that glimmered in the meager light, and handed it to me. ‘It is but a small knife,’ he said, ‘but it is something, at least.’
‘I will be back shortly,’ I assured him before I tucked the knife into my sleeve and turned toward the place that inspired such terror in Lulu.
It was a completely unremarkable brick building, the type of old Federal-style home that had once been common in this part of Manhattan with windows along the front in all four stories and a doorway with a simple brownstone arch around it and a fanlight above the door. A green door.
Unremarkable.
And yet remarkably lively for that time of the night.
Lights shone in every window and, against the light, I saw shadows scurry passed.
Curious, I was about to step nearer when a Conestoga wagon, like those that haul freight, lumbered onto the street. It slowed in front of the house I was watching and I stepped back into the shadows across the street, the better to see and not be seen.
Like all such wagons, this Conestoga was long and wide and had the distinctive curved floor that prevented its contents from tipping and a sturdy white canvas cover to keep its freight dry and protected. When it stopped directly outside the house, I could no longer see that green door, and I had no choice but to cross the street. There was a brick wall around the property no higher than my head and I stayed close to it, hoping that the shadows would hide my presence, and watched a man in laborer’s clothes dismount from the horse on the left and closest to the wagon. He hitched up his unmentionables, clapped a wide-brimmed hat upon his head and knocked on the front door.
It opened with a spill of light that was blocked when a woman stepped through the doorway.
She was tall and thin, a silhouette against the light so that she looked as if she were cut from black paper. When she spoke to the man, her voice was crisp, but it wasn’t until she turned slightly to wave an arm toward the back of the house that the light her touched her face.
Matron!
I had suspected some connection between the terrors that haunted Lulu and Succor yet it took a moment for me to make sense of what I was seeing.
‘Bring the wagon around.’ I snapped out of my surprise when Matron pointed to the street where Frederick and Lulu still waited, and from there directed the teamster to the back of the house. ‘You can load the product from there.’
He tipped his hat, mounted the horse and the wagon rumbled around the corner.
I was determined to get to the back of the house before the Conestoga did, and as far as I could see there was only one way to do that. It took me a while to find a suitable foothold, but once I did, I hitched up my skirts, climbed the wall and dropped into the courtyard next to the house. There were no windows on this side of the building and for that I was grateful, for it allowed me the cover of darkness. Step by careful step, I made my way across the yard and to a gate that led me to the alley at the back of the house. There was no sign yet of the Conestoga but I could hear its iron-rimmed wheels against the paving stones as it neared, and from where I stood I could see the building across the way, a tavern called the Horse and Mare.
I could not allow myself the luxury of standing there, stunned. The wagon arrived and Matron opened the back door.
‘You’ll need more than one man to carry the barrels,’ she barked, and the teamster did not argue with her. Another fellow jumped out of the back of the wagon and together they went into the house and came out hauling a barrel of the type I’d seen at Sebastian Richter’s brewery. The load was heavy and awkward, and while the men struggled with it, I dared a step nearer.
I was just in time to see Matron bend her head to hear something from inside the house, call back, ‘I’ll be right there,’ and disappear.
A few more steps and I was able to take a better look through the doorway and into the house.
There were four other barrels
there waiting to be loaded and, as much as I would have liked to get a closer look at them, I never had the chance for I saw a flash of color like fire from the passageway and heard Matron’s sharp voice.
‘Get her back in here. It’s not her time.’
Another woman appeared, her arm firmly around a short, slim woman with a glazed expression and the slow-motion movements of an automaton. My stomach swooped and suddenly, that bit of fiery color I’d seen made sense.
Hair.
Red hair.
Like Lulu’s.
Only this wasn’t Lulu. It was Madeline Emerson.
NINETEEN
Stunned, I hesitated, and it was a good thing I did. Again, Matron’s voice rang out from somewhere in the house and, when it did, the woman who had hold of Madeline pushed her into a chair, told her not to move and left the room.
I saw my opportunity and dashed into the house, carefully and quietly making my way around the barrels and down one passageway crossed by another. There, I paused and tipped my head, listening, and when I saw no one and heard nothing, I closed in on the woman who sat, glassy-eyed, in a room crammed with packing crates and boxes.
‘Madeline, it’s me, Evie!’ I took her arm and tugged her to her feet. Or at least I tried. Madeline did not move. She did not even look at me. ‘We must leave here, Madeline. Right now!’
She blinked and shifted her gaze from the nothing it had been focused upon to me and the size of her pupils, like pinpoints, confirmed my worst fears. She’d been given laudanum and, from the slow, irregularity of her breathing, I would say she’d been given a good deal of it.
‘Madeline!’ My voice was a whisper but no less urgent because of it. ‘Come with me. I’m going to take you home.’
‘Home.’ Her voice was as dreamy as the look in her eyes. Madeline’s head bobbed to one side, and a slow smile brightened her expression. ‘Home to James.’
Smoke and Mirrors Page 22
