“Don’t worry about it. Take the carriage home.”
“But how will you get back?”
“I’ll walk, or take a hansom. You go on ahead.”
“Oh thank you, James. You’re a true friend.”
He took a step closer to her. “It was good to see you again.”
“And you too, James.” Eliza leaned in and quickly pecked him on the cheek.
He smiled.
Eliza gathered her things and left without saying goodbye.
Chapter
9
Eliza couldn’t get over her elation having just delivered a breech baby. The odds of that even happening and the infant surviving in the East End were staggering, but she’d done it. A part of her wanted so much to have the carriage stop at Henrietta Street so she could tell Professor Huxley, but she decided against it. The last thing she needed was anyone questioning why she’d been at East End, and she hoped James would not become a herald.
When Eliza arrived home, Mrs. Sutton met her in the foyer. “How was your day, Miss?”
“It was wonderful.”
“Good to hear it. Your mother is in the parlor again and would like to speak with you.”
“Can’t it wait? I have to wash up.”
“There’s a man with her. They’ve been waiting a while.”
“Please let them know they’ll have to wait a little longer.” Eliza huffed and headed upstairs.
She rushed cleaning up and changing, but was back downstairs within the hour. Before entering the parlor, she stood at the doorway and peeked into the room. A mousy-looking bald man wearing thin-wired spectacles sat in the Queen Anne chair next to her mother’s chaise. There was a large group of assorted floral arrangements on her mother’s Chippendale table in front of them. Lady Covington looked up and saw Eliza.
“What are you doing over there creeping about? Come in here and meet Mr. Grey. He’s going to be doing the flowers for Michaelmas dinner. And if we like them, he may very well do the arrangements for your wedding.” The florist got up, an eager smile on his face, and Lady Covington rose from the chaise. Together they walked toward Eliza.
“Mr. William Grey,” the man said, extending his hand. “Hello, Miss.”
Eliza went to shake it, but Mr. Grey gasped and jerked his arm away.
“What is it?” Lady Covington said. She looked down at Eliza’s fingers, which were still in midair. “Catherine Elizabeth!”
Dried blood had caked around the cuticles, underneath the fingernails, and in the wrinkles of her knuckles. “Oh forgive me.” Eliza lowered her hand. “I was sure I got it all off.” She ran out of the room, while Lady Covington yelled for Mrs. Sutton.
A while later, Eliza returned to the parlor and there was tea and a tray of biscuits in front of Mr. Grey. For the next hour, they spoke of nothing but flowers. Eliza had never met such a man before—squeamish of a little blood but so knowledgeable about everything botanical. If he hadn’t reacted the way he did when he saw her hand, her mother would never have noticed. This made Eliza dislike him. Particularly while watching him nibble on the corners of the biscuits and sipping tea. Exactly like a mouse.
“Pardon me, Mother, may I be excused? I’d like to lie down a bit before dinner.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Goodbye Mr. Grey. It was nice meeting you.”
He stood up when Eliza did. “It was my pleasure. Oh, and silly me, I nearly forgot to ask. Please, tell me, what are your favorite flowers?”
“Lilies,” she said, “white ones.” Mr. Grey stood there, his face pale with wide eyes.
Lady Covington huffed. “Silly girl,” she said. “Don’t mind her, Mr. Grey. She knows nothing of feminine things such as flowers.”
“Those are for funerals,” he muttered. Eliza turned to leave the room.
* * *
As much as Eliza wanted to speak with her father after dinner, she was exhausted, and took her meal upstairs. Mrs. Sutton was kind and sympathetic, adding a piece of her scrumptious pear tart to the tray.
After eating, she rested her head on a pillow and quickly fell asleep. Eliza dreamt she was walking in the East End and Annie Chapman was following her. The uterus Eliza had removed and burned was dragging just behind the prostitute, connected by an umbilical cord that came out from the bottom of her skirt hem. “You won’t get away from me,” Annie yelled. “You’re a murderer!”
Eliza quickened her pace, but so did Annie. In her haste, Eliza tripped on a broken cobblestone and fell onto the wet filth that covered the street. Her hand landed in one of the cesspool puddles and splashed muck onto her face and into her mouth. A bitter-tasting grit stuck to her tongue, and she turned her head to the side and spat. The prostitute caught up to her and launched her body on top of Eliza’s, pinning her down. Eliza struggled, and when she tried to call out for help, Annie grabbed the back of her head and pushed her face down into a puddle. Eliza fought harder, kicking and grabbing at the woman. Her skin stung from scraping against the abrasive pavement. Then Annie grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her violently, smashing Eliza’s face against the foul, slimy wet ground.
“Wake up, Eliza! It’s a bad dream.” Her father’s voice called out. She opened her eyes and saw his hands on her arms.
“Father,” she cried. He pulled her close to him.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She sobbed into his shirt.
“I was just going to bed when I heard you screaming. Did you have a bad day?”
She shook her head. “I had a fabulous day. You would have been proud.”
“I’m always proud, dear.” He moved her away from him, and she lay back down in bed.
“Thank you, Father.”
“Good night. We can talk about this in the morning if you like.”
Eliza nodded and closed her eyes.
This time, no nightmares of the dead invaded her sleep.
Chapter
10
Lord Covington wasn’t at breakfast the next morning. “Where’s father,” Eliza asked.
“He was called out very early.”
“The Royal Family? Is someone ill?”
“I don’t know the details. You’ll have to ask your father.”
“You look a little tired.”
“Well, it’s no wonder with his coming to bed so late then having to leave at all hours.”
“Maybe you should take a nap.”
Lady Covington sighed. “I suppose I will. For once I’ve a break from wedding planning.”
“Then make good use of it. I’ll try and come home early.”
“It would be nice to have you home. You’ll be leaving me soon.”
“Please, don’t start.” Eliza downed her tea, grabbed her toast, and rose from her seat. “I’ve got to go.”
Her mother was still talking when she went out to the foyer to put on her coat and grab the doctor’s bag. Eliza made sure she’d had her cloak as well, hoping to try the London Hospital again if she finished before schedule. There was also the issue of talking to James about keeping quiet regarding what happened. Then she had the other prostitute, Catherine, to locate and take care of.
Despite the promise she’d made to her mother, she knew it was going to be a long day.
* * *
“Miss Covington, I heard news of someone delivering a breech baby at East End yesterday. Would you happen to know who that was?”
“Um…no, sir.”
“I heard there were some great heroics and quick thinking involved.”
“Indeed?”
Professor Huxley smiled and continued dissecting a cadaver spleen. Who would have thought the artery attached to it was so large?
At the end of class, the professor announced that three girls would soon be graduating. “Miss Blake, Miss Johnson, and Miss Covington will be moving on the latter part of this November.” The rest of the women knocked on their books and cheered.
Eliza was in high spirits
when she left Henrietta Street and took a hansom to the London Hospital at East End. So much so, she never noticed someone following her until, like in her nightmare, she stumbled on a broken cobblestone and fell onto her hands. This triggered the memory of the dream and a feeling of unease. Eliza looked behind her and caught a glimpse of a woman ducking into an alleyway. A couple of men walking by stopped and asked if she was all right, then helped her get back on her feet.
“I thought I saw someone down there.” She pointed to the alley.
One of the men went to investigate. He walked halfway to the end. “No one here, Miss.”
Feeling silly, she brushed herself off and thanked them, then went straight to the hospital.
Eliza greeted a few midwives and nurses she knew. “Where is Doctor Riley?” she asked Helen, one of the newer nurses.
“He’s in C Ward, Miss.”
“Thank you.” Eliza headed to the area where they kept patients with breathing disorders.
Doctor Riley was writing in a patient chart when he turned and saw her walking toward him. He smiled and put the chart down. “I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon,” he said.
“You didn’t tell Professor Huxley did you?”
“Don’t be upset.”
“James, you—”
“Doctor Morton was the only person I told, and I swore him to secrecy.”
“He’s good friends with Professor Huxley. You knew that. How could you?”
“I had to tell somebody, Eliza. You were simply amazing.”
“It was rather exciting news to keep quiet.” She made a small smile. James was too innocent in his intentions to get distressed over. “Just promise me you’ll tell no one else.”
“I promise, and I don’t think Huxley will say anything either. He’s more afraid of your father than anyone I know. I’ll never figure that one out.”
“Father yelled at him once about a mistake he made regarding something he told a patient. Humiliated him essentially, and it hurt…practically ruined his reputation.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Always wondered why a man would go into teaching women.”
“James, you’re horrible.”
Doctor Riley laughed. “You know I’m teasing.”
“Thank you again for coming to my rescue yesterday. It really meant a lot to me.”
“You know I would’ve, I would do anything to help.”
“I understand.” Eliza leaned closer to him and kissed his cheek again.
“You really have to stop doing that, you know.”
“Why?”
“It wrecks me for the next day or two.”
“That’s silly. Come on, I’ll help you make rounds.”
The two doctors worked side by side for the rest of the afternoon. Eliza used it as an opportunity to quietly ask patients she thought might be the street-working type if they knew any women named Catherine, and she would give them a brief description. She didn’t gain any leads, but she enjoyed her time spent with James. Eliza had forgotten how fond she was of him. When they’d finished seeing patients, James walked Eliza out and they said their goodbyes.
Outside, it had begun to rain. Eliza pulled her hood over and walked quickly down the street. She passed an alley and heard someone shout out. “Miss Jane!”
Eliza stepped back, looked up and down the street to see if she saw anyone she knew, then headed down the alley. Behind some wooden crates, a woman was huddled against the wall. “Can I help you?” Eliza said.
“I’m sure you can.” The woman looked up at Eliza. At once, she knew that long rat face. It was Catherine. The prostitute was filthy, and smiling up at Eliza with a missing tooth and a blackened right eye.
“What do you want?”
“You’ve got to know. Lucky I didn’t turn you in.”
“Have you been following me?”
“You bet I have. Can’t let my future slip away, if you know what I’m saying.”
Eliza’s heart began to race. This harlot knew where she came and went. “What exactly are you saying?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, miss. I want your money.”
“I don’t have any.”
“You must have some! I’ve seen you take hansom after hansom. I was never able to follow you past East End. You could be heading home to Buckingham Palace for all I know. The one time I saw you on Henrietta Street I was taking a friend up to the Royal Free Hospital. She’s all uppity these days and prefers it, and that’s when I saw you leaving and followed you ‘til you caught a hansom. So I’m smart enough to know you’ve got a lot of cab money, Miss.” Catherine stopped talking. Her eyes targeted something on Eliza and then widened a bit.
Eliza looked down and saw her great-grandmother’s broach through the keyholes of her cloak and frock coat. Her heart sunk.
“That’ll do,” Catherine said with a wicked smile pointing to the broach.
Eliza gasped and tightened the cloak around her neck. “I can’t. It’s a family heirloom.”
“I don’t care whose family it belongs to. If you want me to keep quiet, you’ll be giving that to me.”
Unable to catch her breath, Eliza began to hyperventilate.
“Don’t go faking sick on me. I’ll scream out, I will.”
“I’m not.” Eliza gasped and tried to think quickly. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small silk pouch with a drawstring. “Take this,” she said. “It’s all I’ve got.”
“Why thank you, Miss.” Catherine snatched the pouch out of her hand. “But I’ll still be wanting that pretty pin.”
“Please, not now, let me think about how I’ll explain it going missing. It’s my mother’s. She only leant it to me. The excuse will have to be a good one because she’ll have every copper in London looking for it when it’s gone. You see, this broach is highly unusual and, well, if you’re found trying to sell it—”
“Fine, then! You think of a good way to hand it over. And don’t you try and give me the slip. I know where to find you.”
“Come to me in three days. I should have a plan by then.”
“Aye, you better.”
“But don’t meet me near the hospital. It’s too risky that I’ll run into someone I know. Perhaps we’ve been seen already.” Eliza turned and looked up the alley. No one was in sight.
“Where then?” Catherine said.
Eliza turned back. “Someplace farther away, but still busy,” she mumbled while thinking hard and fast for a plan. “Mitre Square, about the same time as now.”
“Don’t try and cross me.”
As Eliza’s idea was coming to a realization, she felt herself mentally getting stronger. Then she became angry. “I won’t. And don’t ever threaten me again.” She pointed her finger down at the Catherine’s face.
The woman rose slightly, opened her mouth and put it around Eliza’s gloved finger, then sucked it. Eliza pulled her hand away, repulsed by the harlot’s vile actions. Catherine cackled as Eliza ran.
She heard coins jingling in the pouch from the alleyway behind her.
Chapter
11
Eliza barged through the doors of London Hospital out of breath and asking for Doctor Riley. When James met her in the lobby, she pulled him to a corner away from prying eyes. “James, I was robbed.”
“What? Here, just outside?” He began to move toward the door.
Eliza grabbed his arm and yanked him back. “You can’t make a fuss, James. I’m not supposed to be here.
“It’s not right. We should send for the police.”
“Absolutely not!”
Several people on the other side of the lobby, including the receptionist and two nurses, looked over at them.
“You’re being ridiculous,” he said. “You could’ve been hurt.”
“But I wasn’t. Please understand, James. My father—”
“Yes, don’t remind me. I know his temperament all too well.”
“Then help.”
“How?”
/> “Have your carriage bring me home.”
James stood there for a moment and appeared to be deep in thought. “I’ll agree, with one condition.”
“What is it? Anything.”
“Promise you’ll come back and work with me like you did today.” He pulled Eliza closer to him and looked into her eyes.
Eliza turned her head and saw the other women in the lobby had continued to stare. “James, I—”
“It was one of the best days I’ve had in quite some time. Please, I’m not asking for anything else but for us to work together a few times more.”
“All right. I’ll try.”
“Thank you.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “I’ll send for the carriage.” James gently released her hand, then walked over to the receptionist and nurses standing across the room. A moment later, the receptionist got up from her desk and walked down a long hallway and the nurses dispersed.
* * *
While the carriage horses clopped through the East End, Eliza took off her gloves, then reached up and caressed her great-grandmother’s broach. There wasn’t any conceivable way she could give it to a wretch such as Catherine. The mere thought made her seethe and grind her teeth. A moment later, she felt pain and moved her hand away. Eliza had been clutching the broach so hard some of the sharper edges of the setting had left minute pinpricks of blood on her palm. She put her hand up and licked the wounds, then put the gloves back on.
The carriage arrived on Queen Anne Street and the driver helped Eliza step out. She thanked him and then headed into the house. Nanette was in the foyer ready to take her hat, coat, and gloves. “Where is Mrs. Sutton?” she said.
“Last I saw, she was bringing your father tea in his study.”
“My father’s home?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“For how long?”
“Since a bit after noon.”
“He never comes home early. Is something wrong? What happened?”
“I don’t know, Miss.”
“Suppose I’ll have to go and find out myself. Thank you, Nanette.”
Only the Thunder Knows_East End Girls Page 19
