by Karen Odden
At the Octavian, I had only ever seen him in the full-length black leotard he wore for the trapeze act. Now, he was dressed in ordinary clothes that partially concealed his lean, muscular frame. His long dark curls had been cut very short, which altered his appearance a good deal. But there was no camouflaging the grace and deliberation in his movements. As he entered the room, I was reminded of a panther I’d once seen on exhibition at the zoo in Regent’s Park. He removed his coat and dropped it onto one of the wooden chairs. With his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, I could see the muscles in his bare forearms. There was power there, held in abeyance, and I realized, as I hadn’t before, that Sebastian could be dangerous if one came up against him.
But just then his expression was that of an anxious brother, and he wrapped his fingers so tightly around the edge of the chair that the knuckles turned white. “How badly was she hurt? And how did you know where to find her?”
“I didn’t,” I replied. “I wasn’t even looking for her. I was on my way home from the Octavian last Wednesday night. I heard a cry, close to where Brewer meets Regent Street. So I stopped to see—and—and there she was.”
“Was it very bad?” His eyes were locked on mine.
I hesitated. I’d already discerned that he was blaming himself; I didn’t want to add to the weight of his guilt. “She’s better now, Sebastian. She’s going to be fine.”
“Tell me the truth,” he said, so sharply that I flinched. “I want to know. What happened?”
Reluctantly, I relayed both what Marceline had told me and Dr. Everett’s catalog of her injuries. His face paled as he listened, and by the end he was ashen. He turned and hit the wall with the outsides of his fists, then laid his forehead against them. His breathing stuttered, and at first I thought he was suppressing tears, but then came a string of what sounded like French curses.
I glanced at Jeremy, who was leaning rigidly against a table. His arms were tight across his chest, and his eyes flashed with the same fury.
There were three chairs in the room. I wouldn’t have trusted the one in the corner to hold a cat, and Sebastian had thrown his coat onto the second. I pulled the remaining one away from the wall, sat down, and waited. After some minutes, I said, in a voice that I hoped sounded calm and resolute, “Sebastian, I want to help both of you.”
Slowly, he came to the chair and sat down. He rested his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. His short hair made me think of a shorn lamb.
“Sebastian, do you know why she was hurt?”
“I can guess,” he muttered.
“She didn’t tell them anything,” I said.
He looked up. “I know that,” he said grimly. “If she had, I’d be dead.”
“Do you know who it was?”
He sent a quick, oblique look at Jeremy before he met my eyes. “You say she’s going to be fine. But how do you know? You’re not a doctor.”
“No, I’m not. But she’s been seen by one, and he’s said so.”
“So, she’s at a hospital,” Sebastian said.
Jeremy gave a soft cough, and I sensed that it was intended as a warning.
“Sebastian,” I said sternly, “you need to stay away from her.”
“Why?”
I saw the stubborn set to his jaw, and I sighed. But I had an idea how I could convince him. “Because the people who are looking for you might be watching the hospital.”
Jeremy coughed again, but I kept my eyes on Sebastian.
“I haven’t told Marceline,” I continued, “because I didn’t want to worry her, but a few days ago, a man came looking for her. He spoke to the guard, and he knew her name. He claimed to be her father.”
Sebastian’s every muscle tensed. “What?”
“He wasn’t admitted, and the other guards have been warned about him. But—”
“But someone else could try, or they could break in—”
My voice rose over his. “I suppose they could—but you’re the one they want, not her. If they believe she’s in the hospital, they don’t need to get in. They just need to keep watch and wait because they expect at some point you’ll come to see her.”
I watched as he digested that. At last he nodded. “When will she be able to leave?”
“I don’t know, but not yet,” I replied. “I’ll get word to you when she can. Do you have someplace you can go? Somewhere away from London?”
Jeremy interjected, “Mr. Flynn says ’e’ll ’elp get them away, soon as Marceline can walk.”
“Will you be able to get her out of hospital?” Sebastian asked. “Without anyone knowing?”
“I’m sure we can find a way to do it discreetly,” I said. “But there aren’t any secret passageways, if that’s what you mean.”
He frowned, dissatisfied with my answer.
“When it’s time, she can come ’ere.” Jeremy pointed his thumb in the direction of the river. “It’s easy ’nough to get a small boat to the docks if’n you want to get out o’ London.”
“Would you go back to France?” I asked.
“Maybe.” Sebastian stood and went to the window. He seemed lost in his thoughts, and we were all quiet.
Finally, I rose and picked up my umbrella. I didn’t want to be late meeting Matthew. “I’ll tell her you’re all right. Is there anything else?” I expected him to ask me to tell her he loved her, or something like it.
He turned. “Marmalade.”
“Marmalade?” I repeated, confused.
He nodded. “Just tell her I said ‘marmalade.’ She’ll know what it means.”
Chapter 17
It was a few minutes past one when I arrived at the hospital. As I approached the gate, I caught sight of Matthew on the other side of the street, a short distance away. It gave me the opportunity to see him as I rarely did, and it struck me that were he a stranger, I wouldn’t imagine that he was a detective. With his leisurely stride and his tendency to pause at shop windows, he seemed like an average man out for a midday walk.
Suddenly Matthew turned to the side, just for a moment, as if he glimpsed something behind him. A prickling sensation began at my neck, making its way down my arms. Did he suspect someone was following him? I scanned the crowd in his wake: a few women, a few men, two boys, more men, one with a cane. I saw no one who seemed to bear any particular interest in my brother, and as he approached, I saw no signs of anyone slowing down or observing him.
“What are you staring at, Nell?” he asked as he came close.
“Nothing, thank goodness. I don’t see anyone following you.”
His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he smiled. “Glad to hear it.”
We entered the hospital together, and I led him up to the ward and Marceline’s curtained bed.
But the bed was empty and made, the corners hospital crisp.
My thoughts raced. Could something have happened to her? But surely Dr. Everett would’ve gotten word to Matthew or me at once if that were the case. I went outside and found Nurse Aimes. “Where is Marceline?” I said, not even trying to hide my alarm.
“Marceline?” She smiled and pointed down the hallway. “She’s walking.”
And indeed, there she was. She had a cane and was making her way slowly and gingerly, with the upright posture and steps of a dancer.
“Good lord, she’s just a child,” Matthew muttered.
“She’s seventeen,” I corrected him. “She’s just small. Wait here. I’ll bring her to you, all right?”
He nodded, and I started toward her. As I drew close, I saw that her hand was at her side, but more as if she were protecting her ribs than feeling pain.
“Marceline,” I said quietly.
She smiled at me. The bandage on her temple remained, but the bruises on her face were less, and the swelling at her jaw much diminished. “Hullo, Nell.”
“I’m so glad to see you up and about. Does walking hurt your ribs?”
“Not so very much.”
I turned to accompany he
r. Very softly I said, “I found Sebastian.”
She froze. “He’s all right?”
“He’s fine,” I reassured her. “I promise. Not a mark on him.”
The relief brought tears to her eyes. “You saw him? You spoke to him?”
“At the Falcon. Jeremy helped, just as you said he would.” I paused. “He asked me to pass you a message. ‘Marmalade.’”
To my relief, a puff of laughter came from her lips, which I was glad to see. “What on earth does it mean?” I asked.
“It was the name of our cat. She was orange, like marmalade, and the nimblest thing. Sebastian always said I reminded him of her. Marceline, marmalade. Silly, really.” Her smile faded. “I expect he told you that so I’d know you’d really met him and were telling the truth.”
“Probably.”
Her expression was apologetic. “If he knew you better, he’d trust you as much as I do.”
“Oh, I’m not offended! I’m glad he trusted me with that much. He’s terribly worried about you. He insisted I tell him about your injuries.”
She winced. “You also told him I’m much better, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
She laid her fingers on my arm. “Thank you, very much.”
I kept my voice low. “Jeremy suggested that when you’re able to leave here, you meet Sebastian at the Falcon offices, in Prescott Street. There are boats you can take down to the docks.”
“I wonder when I’ll be well enough.”
“You’re already doing so much better,” I said encouragingly and put my hand over hers where it rested on the cane. “And now—I have to ask you something, and it’s rather a favor.”
“Of course,” she said, surprised.
“Do you remember I told you that my brother, Matthew, is a policeman?”
Her expression became cautious. “Yes.”
“He wants to meet you.”
“Nell . . .”
“It wasn’t my idea,” I added. “He heard about you from Dr. Ev—”
“Why would Dr. Everett tell him about me?” she broke in.
“Because Matthew is investigating a series of attacks in Soho the past few weeks; he’s looking for a pattern.”
She nibbled her lower lip, considering.
I lowered my voice still further. “Marceline, I’ve told him nothing about you—or the Octavian. He still doesn’t know I play there, and he doesn’t know you have a brother. He thinks we met here at the hospital.”
She turned to look toward the end of the hallway where Matthew stood. “Is that him?”
“Yes.” I tried to reassure her in terms she’d accept: “And just as much as you trust Sebastian, I trust him.”
“All right,” she said simply. I squeezed her arm lightly, grateful.
Marceline and I walked toward him, and as we drew close, I wondered if his height and bulk would feel intimidating to her. But she seemed to have taken my words to heart, for she smiled up at him. “Hello, Matthew. Nell says you want to ask me some questions. I’ll tell you everything I can.”
“Bless you,” he said frankly. “I don’t hear that very often.” He looked over at me. “Dr. Everett says we can sit in his office. No one will disturb us there.”
“Would you like a wheeled chair?” I asked.
Marceline shook her head. “The walking is good for me.”
At Marceline’s slow pace, we made our way to the office. I was so used to the doctor’s collections that it hadn’t occurred to me just how odd the room would look to Marceline. Her eyes darted around to the preserved brains, the phrenological head, and the anatomical drawings before they met mine. “How curious all this is.”
I laughed. “Yes, I know. Excentrique, remember?”
The three of us sat down, and Marceline hooked the curve of the cane around the arm of her chair. The only sign of tension was in her back, which was ramrod straight.
Matthew sat back in his chair—not lounging exactly, but composed in his manner. After a moment, he began in that easy way he had: “I’m sure Nell’s told you that I’m a detective. I’m looking into a series of attacks that happened in Soho recently because I’ve a feeling they are connected. I know this might be a painful subject, but anything you can tell me about what happened to you will help. And please, take your time.”
And with that, he waited for her, his hands folded comfortably across his waist.
I breathed a silent sigh of relief. Not that I was surprised, but Matthew had managed this perfectly. Her shoulders relaxed, and after a moment, she said, “I work as a trapeze performer, with my brother, at the Octavian—the music hall in Soho. Do you know it?”
“Yes, I do. It backs onto Hawley Mews, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “I was on my way there on Wednesday night when I saw two men coming toward me. They dragged me into an alley and through a door, and up several flights of stairs.”
“Do you remember which alley?”
A quick glance at me. “I think it was somewhere in Brewer Street.”
I felt myself tense. If she continued to look at me, Matthew might guess that I knew more about this than Marceline was telling him. I hoped he would ascribe it to her looking for reassurance rather than corroboration.
“Why do you think so?” he asked.
“Because that’s near where I live, and they didn’t take me far.” She hesitated. “There is a greenish awning at the shop nearby.”
He nodded approvingly. “You have a good memory. Go on. What happened next?”
“They took me to the top floor of a building. It was a room, long, like an attic, with crates at the end, and a metal pole, where they tied me.”
“What did the men want?”
“They wanted to know where my brother was.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. They didn’t say.”
“What can you tell me about them? How did they look?”
She thought for a moment. “One of them was tall and broad, like you, with brown hair, and very strong, like an adagio.”
“An adagio?” He looked at me. “That’s a musical term, isn’t it?”
“It means a slow tempo,” I said unhelpfully.
“It’s also a man who juggles girls onstage,” Marceline explained with a small smile. “This man spoke a foreign language. I think it was Polish, or German. He had a squarish head and a small mustache, and one of his ears was crinkled.”
“And the other man?”
“He was also tall but thin. Bony but strong. He had his hands on my wrists, and I felt his fingers, biting in.” She touched her cheek below the right cheekbone. “He had a scar here, like a four-pointed star, and reddish hair.”
A casual observer wouldn’t have seen the impression that made upon Matthew: his expression didn’t change, his eyes didn’t widen, his body didn’t tense. But there was a moment of stilled breath, and suddenly I felt as if the air had been charged with electricity.
“And when they tried to make you talk,” Matthew said gently. “Did they use their fists?”
“One of them had a stick, about so thick”—she put her thumb and forefinger in a circle—“polished and rounded at the end.”
“Which one was that? The adagio or the other?”
“The other one, with the reddish hair.” She hesitated. “There wasn’t much of it; he was going bald. But he had some around the sides, by his ears.”
He nodded. “Did you tell them anything?”
She shook her head, soberly. “I knew if I did, they’d use it to find my brother.”
He tipped his head. “And why did they let you go?”
“They didn’t. There was a rough bit of metal on the pipe, and after they left, I scraped the rope against it till it wore through. And then I climbed out the window, crossed the roof, and found a drainpipe I could slide down.”
“I can’t believe you did that with broken ribs and all,” I said. It was no less impressive, hearing it the second time.
�
�It’s a remarkable feat, even for an acrobat such as yourself,” Matthew agreed, his tone admiring. “How did you come here?”
She kept her eyes fixed on him. “I don’t remember. Dr. Everett said I was brought in a hansom cab and left with the guard.”
“Mr. Oliven,” I supplied.
His eyes narrowed briefly. “And you remember nothing else?”
She shook her head. “That’s all.” There was a moment of silence, and she touched her cane uncertainly.
Matthew took the hint and rose, offering his hand to help her up. “Thank you. You’ve helped me a great deal,” he said, with a warm smile. “Please let me know before you leave the hospital. I’d be happy to help you in return, in whatever way I can. Truly, I would.”
Then he looked at me. “I need to see Dr. Everett for a minute. I’ll meet you out front.” He gave us one last smile and left the room.
She waited until he was out of earshot, then she took a long slow breath and turned to me. “Was that all right?”
I nodded. “He meant it when he said you helped him—and that he’d help you.”
“I just hope he can catch them.” Her eyes flashed with her usual spirit.
We made our way back to the ward, her steps slowing as we drew near. I could see how fatigued she was, and I adjusted my pace to hers. Finally, she reached her bed and sank down on it with a sigh.
“You’re getting stronger every day,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to leave soon.”
She looked up at me, her smile showing her small teeth. “You’ve been such a good friend through all this.”
Impulsively, I leaned over and embraced her. When I let her go, her eyes were glistening with tears, and she laughed shakily.
I gave her my handkerchief with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded and lay back against the pillow, giving me a wave goodbye.
I walked out to the foyer to find Matthew. He held the door open for me, and I asked over my shoulder, “Was that helpful?”
“Very.” He halted on the footway and took my elbow. “Have you anything to add, Nell?”
I returned his gaze. “Why do you think I would?”
He glowered at me. “Don’t dodge the question, Nell. What has she told you that she didn’t tell me?”
