“Not that far,” I reply, tartly. “You people in the higher classes just hold onto those rules longer, that’s all. I don’t go around calling my own siblings and nearest and dearest Mister and Miss and Sir That and Lady This, the way you do.”
“All right,” she laughs. “That’s probably true enough. But how was it? Did you—” She leans in. “Feel anything for him?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know…romantically speaking?”
“Oh my heavens, Mina, you’re the silliest thing when it comes to boys.” I make a show of turning my socks over.
“Oh, darling, he’s not a boy,” she chides, and her eyebrows wiggle up into her curly hair. “Here, let me do that. Seriously, I like this house and would prefer not to watch it go up in flames. Scoot back; I think your knees are smoldering.”
“He’s far too rich and exciting for me. Besides, we’re just helping one another, that’s all.” Isn’t it?
“Helping one another? With what? Oh, thank you, this looks delicious!” Mina takes a tray, laden with food, from the butler and nods him out the door. “Here, have a pastry, but talk around it; I want to hear more. More about Sammmmmmm.” She drawls out his name in a teasing way, and once again, her eyebrows wiggle up and take residence in her hair.
“I didn’t say it like that! Mmm, this is really good. What is this? Liver? I’ve never had liver like this before. Anyway, we have a patient in common. That’s really why we have been spending time together.” I debate telling her about the diary and about Rose Gray. Somehow I still don’t want to; I want to keep Rose to myself, though she frightens me. “Really? It’s liver, really and truly? Blimey. The orphanage used to do dreadful things to liver. I’d tell you but you’d be frightened. It involved sweated onions and broken teeth.”
“A patient? Really?”
And then I want to smack myself upside my dull head. Mina has volunteered at Bedlam much longer than I have been there. She probably knows Rose.
“Her name is Rose Gray. She’s a young woman, very violent. Evidently, her own husband signed her out not too long ago, pretending to be a doctor.” I look for signs of recognition in Mina’s face.
Mina looks appalled and puts aside her sandwich. “He isn’t a real doctor?”
“Well, I don’t believe so,” I proceed, cautiously. “But then again, I’m only going off what she says and believes, and she’s as loony as they come—really, truly, beyond doubt, a crazy.”
“She’s talked to you?” Mina looks confused and worried. She bites down on her sandwich delicately. “You’ve seen her? Heard her?”
I sigh. I’ll have to start at the beginning.
20
“No, she’s not spoken to me, not exactly.” (We’ll just leave out the part where I thought she whispered at me that night I found her name written on the wall. That odd night is going with me to the grave.) “I found her diary, and I’ve been reading it. I know, I know, I should have turned it over to Miss Helmes, but it’s been a nice distraction from all those boring, tedious chores she gives me. Anyway, I’ve been a bit obsessed with it.” I probably look sheepish. I feel sheepish. Also, hungry, so I finish off another pastry.
“Obsessed?” Now she really looks concerned. “Are you sure this is good for you?” Mina looks positively ashen. “I don’t like it.”
I laugh. “It’s harmless, just something for me to do. You saw how dreadfully I sew; what else am I going to do with my free time? Anyway, Sam knows her. He says she’ll be back in Bedlam because she always comes back. I suppose Luke will readmit her when he realizes he can’t control her.”
“Luke?”
“Yes, her husband. The one who took her out? The not-doctor?”
“Oh, yes. A fantastic story. I don’t blame you for getting caught up in it, I guess. It does sound a little more thrilling than quilt tops. I think I’m rather jealous.”
“Do you know her then? Miss Helmes seems to remember her, though she’s a bit like conversing with a clam, so I can’t get anything out of her.”
“Who, Rose?” Mina hands me back my socks. “Here, they’re dry enough. Yes, I remember her, I think. I think Miss Helmes took care of her singlehandedly. She was, as you say, rather violent. You know they don’t let the volunteers near the aggressive ones.”
“Oh.” My face falls. I hadn’t thought of that. “I was hoping you’d know her and could corroborate some of her stories. So far, all I have to go on is her diary, and it’s a bit like reading The Jabberwocky poem. You know, ‘Twas brillig and the slivy toves,’ and all that bit.”
“Mother made me memorize more substantial poetry. Like, ‘ask ye why these sad tears stream,’ and all that bit. Are you sure you want to find her?” Mina sounds doubtful. “Maybe it’s better she stays lost.”
Lost. An interesting choice of words. Of course, I’m letting my imagination get the best of me. Still, the word takes me aback, and I choose my next phrasing carefully.
“I’m a bit worried that she’s out in society somewhere,” I point out. I take a bite of something square shaped that is evidently filled with molten lava. ”Oh my word, these are hotter than a June bride in a featherbed!” I curl my toes with a yelp.
“Lizzie!” Mina smacks me on the shoulder. “You can’t talk like that!” But she’s stifling a giggle behind her hand. “What if Mother hears?”
“Sorry, sorry. These are hotter than…a petit-four right out of the oven?”
“That’s better. Now come on, silly girl. Have you had enough to eat? I want you to come and try on some dresses for the ball. Did I tell you it’s going to be a masquerade?”
“No, you didn’t mention it. Can you do something with my hair? I need a new…something.” I let her pull me up to standing. “I’m too old for braids.”
“Mmm. Did Sammmmm tell you that?”
“Oh, stop! Fine, I’ll just braid it then,” I grouse. I think I may be blushing, and knowledge of the fact only makes me blush brighter. Then the annoyance that I’m blushing harder makes me blush even more. I may burst into flames at any second. I hide my embarrassment by beating Mina to the hallway and running like a hellcat up the stairs. I can blame my pink cheeks on the exertion.
“Wait up!” Mina laughs, but of course, she doesn’t run; she takes the steps like a lady, skirt in her hand. “I’ll do your hair, promise, but first you have to see what you think of my gown, and pick one out for yourself. I can alter it tonight. And we must decide on a mask for you!”
I’m already sprawled on her bed by now and can only hear every third word or so. Mina’s room is luscious; everything is plump and sumptuous. I curl up on a dreamy pillow, but keep my hot feet atop the blankets.
“Oh no, you don’t! No napping! Up!” Mina pokes me. “We have to focus.”
“It takes focus to pick out clothes?” I’m skeptical. I haven’t had much experience—all right, no experience—when it comes to picking out ball gowns, but I would have assumed it came down to color and…well, mainly color.
“Of course, it does. Here, I’m going to toss you a few, and you hold them up to your face.”
“Whatever for? I won’t be wearing them on my face.” But I oblige by draping a green silk over my face as I sprawl.
“You’re so childish,” Mina sighs, and yanks it down. “I was right, too washed out. Doesn’t bring out your eyes at all.”
“That’s because they’re closed.”
“You need to take this seriously! Don’t you want Sammmm to see you as a beautiful woman? He is coming with you, isn’t he?”
“I have no idea. That’s my answer to both questions, by the way.” I hold up a peach colored gown, under my chin, and wait for approval.
“Hmm. Better. Definitely better. A little dull for a party though. Why don’t you have any idea? What’d he say when you asked him? Oh, Lizzie, you did ask him, didn’t you?” Mina looks dismayed.
“Don’t be disappointed in me, Mina. I just forgot. I’ll ask him when I see him ne
xt. When is the party again?”
“Tomorrow night. Let’s hope his social calendar isn’t full. Waiting until the last minute indeed. Well, at least he knows you aren’t desperate for him, I suppose.” From the depths of her wardrobe, she tosses a mountain of gold silk at me. “This one?”
“For goodness sake, how many gowns do you have back there? Is there a false bottom?” I drape the gold one over the peach one. I’m starting to look like a giant, silken pillow, with a tiny head peeking out.
“I love dresses. I’ve kept all mine and all of Mother’s. Some are dreadfully outdated, but that’s what makes a costume ball so fun. You can be anyone, dress in anything! Besides, I’m a wizard with a needle, so we can make alterations. We can even do them tomorrow, during the sewing circle, instead of quilting! You are coming, aren’t you?”
I suppress a shudder. “I have to empty bedpans, thank you. I’ll be very busy. I like the gold one, I think. It’s…sparkly. Sparkly is good, isn’t it?”
“I like this one.” Mina holds up shimmering umber colored gown, the shade of orange fire. “Your hair will look nice against it. It’s a bit Elizabethan court, but that gives it a lovely waist, don’t you think?”
“I’m a little behind on my Elizabethan court fashion history, but it’s very nice. Are you sure your mother won’t mind me borrowing something?” I finger the pretty fabric.
“Of course not.” Her words don’t match her tone though. “Besides, it’s my dress, and I’m letting a couple of the girls borrow things, so you aren’t the only one. Not that it matters. Want to see mine?” Her tone changes immediately.
“Of course! I’m ready to be dazzled. Did I mention Mary Pickford’s dress?”
“Name dropper. What do you think?” Mina shows off her midnight blue gown. It’s much more straight and simply cut than mine, with much less fabric. There is beading up and down the bodice, and the back is daringly low cut. “With gloves, of course, and plenty of jewelry? And here’s my mask.” She holds out a bird inspired mask in shades of blue, with peacock inspired feathers. Or maybe they are actually peacock feathers. The rich! They never cease to amaze me. Here some bird is walking around, plucked and embarrassed, so grown adults can dress like children…
“Lovely. You’ll be beautiful, as always. But you’ll have to move the beak if you want to kiss Mack, or you’ll put his eye out.” I tease.
Mina laughs. “I’ll try to remember that. Now, a mask for you! Oh, I know.” She nearly disappears into the wardrobe again. “Hang on. I know I have it somewhere. Ugh, smells like mothballs in here. Here we are!” She emerges, beaming, and holding a gem encrusted, cat shaped mask. The ends curl up, with white feathers. It’s rather enchanting, even though it brings to mind the cat that ate the canary.
“Goodness, Mina! I’m not sure I want to be responsible for all those jewels,” I reply, doubtfully. “The dress is expensive enough.”
Mina laughs again. “They aren’t real, honey. I’m a wealthy socialite, not the Queen of Sheba! Mother hasn’t trusted me with a single real piece of jewelry yet. She says I’ll take it off to push wheelchairs around and forget where I put it. She’s right, of course. All of mine are paste, but they still twinkle. Here, try it all on so I know what to take in. You’re so tiny.”
I crawl in the gown. There’s no other word for it. I simply step in and the whole thing eats me alive. Mina looks distressed. The gown hangs around me like a little child playing dress up. I giggle.
“Oh, dear. Why do you have to be so impossibly small? I’d need a month of Sundays to fix this. Well, this will never do.”
“Do you have anything smaller? From when you were say, eleven?” I quip.
“Very funny. We’re just going to have to think of something else, that’s all. You’re sure you don’t have anything at all? Anything we could gussy up?”
I make a great show of pondering. “Well, let’s see, there’s what I wore to the queen’s coronation, and the gown I inherited from my wealthy aunt, and the lovely one from my fairy godmother, though I think I left it in the pumpkin after the prince and I got carried away that night…my shoe wasn’t the only thing that was tossed to the wind that evening…”
“Funny. Focus. Nothing?” She looks fretful. She wants me to have a good time, the sweet thing.
“I’m sure. I’m sorry to put you out, Mina.”
“Hmm. Not your fault you were born an orphan,” she says, kindly.
“I think it was a bit after the birth, actually. The orphan part, I mean.” I’m met by a blank look. “Never mind.”
“Well, let’s see. Alice is nearly as small as you; she has dreadful taste, though. She always strays into the brown territory of frocks, and then she looks like, well…”
“A turd?” I suggest.
“Lizzie!”
“Sorry, I mean to say, a pile of sh—.”
“Shh!” But she’s laughing behind her hand again. “Yes, you’re right, but I didn’t say it! Well, there’s nothing to be done but what needs to be done, that’s all.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Neither do I, actually. It’s something Mother says all the time. I’ll figure it out. You just make sure you remember to arrive on time. And bring Sammmm. You won’t forget that important detail, will you?”
I eye her, warily. “Why do you keep bringing that up? I told you, I’ll try.”
“I know, but...” Mina picks at a thread on her sleeve.
“But, what?” I’m feeling impatient now. Whatever is she beating around the bush for? Polite society is so polite, it annoys me greatly. “Come out and say it, for goodness sake!”
“It’s just—” Now she’s abandoned her sleeve picking and moved on to gnawing on her lower lip. “Most of the young men who will probably come don’t know you, and I don’t want you to feel slighted if no one asks you to dance, that’s all. They can be a snobby bunch, I know. And they will mostly be here to flirt or to look for prospective wives, and I just don’t want you to feel left out. You won’t, will you, Lizzie, dear?”
“Mina, I have not been entertaining fantasies of one of your rich boys sweeping me off my feet!” I laugh. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. You’re the one who keeps telling me I have to be there, remember?”
She looks guilty. “Yes, I suppose it’s me, having romantic fantasies for you. But I do want you to have a good time, and really, some of my mother’s friends are dreadful snobs. If they’re rude to you, you just send them to me! I’ll dispatch them home immediately.”
“I’m fairly adept at dispatching my own enemies, but thank you for looking out for me. Now, can we talk about something else? Like, why you’re bringing along Mack, the wonder kid, when you have millions of rich boys to toy with? You don’t really like him, do you?”
“Don’t you?”
“No, he’s insufferable!”
“Oh, Mack is fine.” Mina waves my notion aside. “He’s a dear. And he’ll look out for us, you know, in case things get out of hand. The other young men there wouldn’t know how to handle anything in an emergency.”
“You’re expecting emergencies? At a ball? Gracious, what kind of den of iniquity are you bringing me to?” I widen my eyes, in mock horror.
Mina laughs. “The very worst kind. Cook might serve the wrong liver mousse and chaos will erupt. You have no idea how dreadful these affairs can be when things go wrong. Once, Mother accidentally shuffled the seating arrangement around the wrong way, and I can’t even tell you the awkwardness that permeated that evening. You could have cut the tension with a sword.”
“Sounds terrifying,” I deadpan. I’m starting to regret my promise to come. Liver mousse and small talk, in a dress that’s so large, it could fall off me at any time, all while no one asks me to dance. What a way to spend the night. I’m wishing suddenly I could cry off and spend my time finishing Rose’s diary.
Just as suddenly as the thought comes, I’m desperate for closure over Rose Gray once again. Just when
I had thought my life was my own (such as it is), and was beginning to enjoy myself and forget her, she manages to yank me back into her head and soul. How must the people in her life—Sonnet, their father, and Luke—have felt? They actually knew her and loved her, or tried to. I’m simply an observer, and I feel completely engulfed in Rose. She swallows me whole like the gown did, and I eye the pile of suffocating satin with distrust.
21
The feeling of being somewhat possessed by Rose hasn’t left by the time I take my leave of Mina. I’ve pocketed a few sandwiches, or really, Mina has pocketed them for me, and I feel like Little Red Riding Hood with her basketful of goodies and sweets for Grandmother. Instead of skipping merrily through the forest, I trudge around the puddles dotting the streets of London. Not for the first time, I wonder what life would be like elsewhere. Would I still be me? Could I be anyone else? The Lost, imaginary though they are, had some things going for them, I reckon: to start off new in exciting places, to never be tied down, to wander like gypsies, and see the world, in so many different centuries? I suppose it would have its drawbacks, but to me, it sounds rather heavenly.
I wonder what it would have been like for Rose to travel to so many different eras, yet always be yanked back to Bedlam. Of course, it hadn’t happened that way, but she believed it did, and so the result is the same really. She believes it to be true, so it affects her as if it’s true. At least I think that’s what the doctors would say about it. No matter that it can’t possibly happen, this time traveling she speaks of, she still is who she is because of what she feels in her bones is fact. Poor Rose. Not for the first time, I feel sorry for her. I wouldn’t want to meet her in a dark alley, but I do feel sorry for her.
I pass by the shops and see an advertisement for a Jack the Ripper tour through White Chapel. I remember Rose’s supposed connection to him with a chill. Naturally, she’s too young to have ever met him in any place other than her imagination. I finger the advertisement and eye the crude pen drawing of the infamous killer. “Would Rose draw his likeness like that?” I wonder. “Only fifty years ago,” I muse. Theoretically the man could still be alive. After all, they never caught him. If it even was a him. For a moment, the idea of my very own murderous Rose Gray being Jack the Ripper fills my head. I pull my shawl around me. That’s taking things too far. Suppose Rose did meet him, only not back then of course, but more recently? He could have killed the girl named Emme for her after his reign of terror in the 1880s. He could have killed her just last month, or last year. Supposing Emme ever even existed in the first place.
Shadows Falling: The Lost #2 Page 16
