Folly (17 page)

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Authors: Marthe Jocelyn

Tags: #General, #Juvenile Fiction, #Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), #Historical, #Europe, #History, #United States, #19th Century, #Family, #Historical - United States - 19th Century, #People & Places, #Family - General, #Health & Daily Living, #London (England), #Great Britain, #Diseases, #Household employees, #People & Places - Europe, #Business; Careers; Occupations, #Foundlings

BOOK: Folly
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188

OLIVER 1888 James Is Missing

From the window of his classroom, Oliver could see straight down the drive, over the gates and beyond to the London night. Torches burned, gaslights flickered, occasional braziers glowed, roasting chestnuts or birds on spits. The constellations winking from Heaven were mirrored on the city streets.

Nothing duller than an amateur poet
, thought Oliver, turning away from the window, reaching for his hat.

Right away he looked out again, in case that was the instant there might appear a small boy, a smudge slightly darker than the surrounding city. But no. The cluster of men at the gate was still assembling, no sign of a discovery or celebration. He'd better hurry to join them.

He pressed his forehead and fingertips against the

189

window, spectacles clinking as glass met glass.
I'm a coward
. There came a flare of light below as another torch was lit.
A ten-year-old boy is braver than I am, plunging into that hive
.

There were many allusions to insects, living in the midst of a city: swarms, hordes, drones, buzzing ... but that wasn't what unnerved Oliver. Every one of the lights out there had been lit by a person, a person from a family, a person with a story, with connections and memories.

Oliver shook himself.

How had James got out, anyway? The
why
was clear. He'd gone to find his mother. But Mrs. Peevey rested only a few streets away, and James had never arrived.

Where are you, boy?

Which was worse: that James should be missing or that Oliver must step out into the dark street? Oliver hustled to the door. Losing James, of course.

190

MARY 1878 Tells About a Proposal

Wouldn't you know it, Eliza were there to witness my downfall. Bates scowled at me too.
So he knows
, I thought.
Eliza has ruined me
.

No, I have ruined myself
.

Miss Lucilla directed me to put her packages on the bureau. I returned to pull the door firmly shut. She removed her hat and dropped the pins into the porcelain tray on the vanity. I were shivering in my dismay. She took off her jacket and shook it gently before laying it over the back of a chair.

"Well?" she said.

"Miss."

"You have something to say that concerns my son?"

Oh, I'd mentioned that, hadn't I?
Go on!

191

"He's a fine boy," I said. "He's growing up very bonny."

"What is it, then, Mary? I've been shopping on Regent Street for hours. I'm quite worn out."

It were wrong to push. She were never too bright, which had slipped my distressed mind.

"Oh, miss!" Tears at once prickled my eyes.

"For Heaven's sake! What's this? Hardy little Mary?"

I had perhaps a minute before her patience would expire. I gulped for air and confidence.

"I'm in trouble, Miss Lucilla. Terrible trouble, the way you were when we first met, but worse, of course, because I have no home to go to, no waiting mam to rescue me. And I weren't wed, though we planned to, I swear it, and now at any minute I'll be sent away--"

"
What
are you saying?"

"I'm asking for help, miss. I know I don't deserve it except that I helped you, did I not? I came to Neville Street at your particular request, for Master Sebastian."

She stared at me with eyebrows pinched, still vague on my predicament. Her mind had not fastened to the story as quickly as I would wish.

"Are you saying that you wish to marry your young man?"

"I wish it with all my heart!" Once again I began to cry, to the point my lips were salty. "But he has gone away! And I am left ... I am left"--I could barely whisper--"with child."

She jumped away as if I'd poked her with a needle. "Mary, no!"

192

I tried to muffle foolish sobs with hands against my face, scraping for breath. Finally, "I am applying to you, Miss Lucilla, as a woman who knows how it feels to be ... lost--"

She cut me off. "There is nothing I can do for you." Her reedy voice were as calm as a curtain over a closed window. "You have made the gravest of mistakes. I would not have you under the same roof as my son. Mrs. Wiggins cannot act quickly enough to put you out. To protect us all. Good day."

She couldn't have hurt me worse if she'd struck me. I were lower than a worm's belly, as you can imagine. I got myself out of her room, through an oddly empty kitchen, and down as far as the cellar steps. And there I sat shivering, quite dazed.

The railing were cold, my bum were cold, my feet were cold. Too cold to hold me up. If I tried to stand, I'd tumble down these stairs and break my neck. It'd all be over in one snap. Now, wouldn't that be a perfect solution? But falling down the steps might not be certain enough. With my luck, it'd be a leg or a wrist instead of my neck, and then what? If I were going to toss myself somewhere, the River Thames would be the place. I shivered. It'd be cold. It were full of floating muck that I'd have to swallow first.

Now, if I were considering swallowing something? Poison were easier than drowning, no question. There must be all manner of poisons in the kitchen. I wouldn't

193

want one that bloated me up or turned me blue, though. That were a stopping point, actually. The idea of Eliza--and it would most likely be Eliza ... the idea of her being the one to peel off my dress and my underthings, to lay me out and to handle my body ... and what if she needed help? Would she ask Nut? That would horrify the poor boy.

I had a wee cry thinking of Nut's bony shoulders hunched over my deadness and knew I couldn't do that. Worse would be Bates. Those big sassy hands on me would irk Eliza something awful.

The door above me opened just then, as my mind were blithering. Light spilled down, reminding me how wedged I were on the narrow steps.

"I'm all right, Nut," I said, feeling his shadow, not turning around. "You're not to worry. I'm only having a ... quiet minute."

"We've been looking for you."

I jumped. It were Bates, not Nut, and his voice woke me up like dropping an ice chip down my bodice.

"Oh!" I hustled to my feet. "I were just ..." What excuse could there be for me hiding on the cellar steps?

"Mary," he said. "You're to be out of this house within the hour." He weren't fierce or sarcastic, simply making certain I knew my lot.

I nodded.

"Unless ...," he said.

I were facing him now, two or three steps below him.

194

He were a dark figure looming over me, with the lit kitchen behind.

"Don't you dare, Mr. Bates," I said, grabbing at the railing, suddenly sure he were intent on pushing me down to the very fate I'd just been fancying for myself.

"What?" He reached toward me and I bit his hand as hard as if it were a nutshell.

"Ow! What are you doing, woman?" He jerked his hand out of my mouth, making my teeth clack as I tasted, what was it? Linseed?

"Let me past," I hissed at him, pushing against his belt. I blushed, it being a mortification where my nose would meet his trousers, placed as I were on the stair. He caught my angry fists in his hands, laughing. Laughing! "Clear off, Bates!" I struggled. "Don't you lay a finger on me! No one's got a right--"

"Dammit, Mary, I've been hunting you all over this house. I want to say something before you leave, before you go running away like a--"

There were a note in his voice that I'd not heard before. It were most unexpected, because it sounded like kindness.

"Mary, you're in terrible trouble."

"Ha," I said. "That's not news to me!"

"I can help, you daft girl! Would you just listen?"

"Help? By offing me down the kitchen stairs?"

"By marrying you," he said.

I'd have been less surprised if he'd struck my face. I

195

lost my footing and teetered to one side, heaving against the railing and grateful for his quick arms that caught me up and near carried me into the kitchen and put me in a chair.

He ran a finger along the plate rail by the cellar door and knocked a key to the ground. He winked, and had Mrs. Wiggins's brandy cupboard opened and closed before you could say
Mary Finn has lost her sense
, holding a bottle and soon tipping it to half-fill a teacup.

"Drink," he said, and I obeyed. He took a quick glug from the bottle itself and put it back where it lived. He pulled up the fire stool and stared into my face, taking a breath and then talking urgent, like there were not a heartbeat to waste.

"You don't like me, Mary Finn, I know that, but I am offering to save your life. I will marry you and make things right. We could keep working here, or go away, if you wanted, find a situation in the country ..."

He were the very last person I expected to speak in a soft voice, the very last I ever thought would have a compassionate thought or who could conceive an action of such tenderness.

I burst into tears and let him hold me up with those arms that Eliza did go on about.

196

JAMES 1888 What James Could See

James was curled up so tight in the morning he thought he mightn't
un
curl, arms locked around his knees, neck and back all cricked and achy ... he'd slept a bit but his body stayed scared just in case. Light trembled at the end of the alley: a bright morning, not foggy and dismal.

He blinked and stayed still.

WHAT HE COULD SEE WITHOUT MOVING:

  • Quite a pile of rags, stiff and crusted with mud
  • Heaps of old newspapers, sodden and melted together
  • A bucket without its bottom
  • Broken milk bottles
  • Ever so many pamphlets, splattered and torn, blown every which way, and all announcing:

197

Dramatic Entertainment

Theatre Royal

The

Vampire

or

Bride of the Isles

6 nights with

Miss Ellen Devere

as the Maiden

  • A dead bird, no, two dead birds, necks ... snapped? With wings flung wide as if still gliding
    .

James leaned over, poking gently at the feathers with a rag.

  • A few rotted potatoes and rusted lettuces

Hungry as he was, these were not close to edible. Even the morning gruel at the Foundling, or, better yet, the thick-cut bread with a smear of butter ... James hiccupped a small laugh, thinking of Mr. Byrd and his telling them always to be grateful. Bread and butter were something to be grateful for, after all. He sat up, wiggling his toes and flapping his fingers.

198

WHAT HE COULD SEE WITH HIS EYES CLOSED:

  • Rosie, bigger than he'd thought about her being, hair still so straggly that her pigtails were only as thick as pencils. But that look on her face when she'd cried out, "James!"
  • Could he remember Lizzy if he squeezed tight his eyes to find a picture? There she was, sticking out her tongue in triumph, swiping the last biscuit....
  • Mr. Chester silhouetted at the window of the history classroom, spectacles glinting, voice low and full of ... of daring, while he told the tale of a king's execution or a captain's sighting America
    .
  • Mama Peevey's bright eyes and arms held wide ...

Only what was the matter with her now?

199

ELIZA 1878 Hears a Proposal

Naturally, Eliza had scooted up the stairs after Mary, ever keen to discover,
What now?
She wasn't surprised to find Bates lurking--when wasn't he, these days? But fancy Mary swanning into Miss Lucilla's bedchamber, as if she'd every right! And no chance for Eliza to hear a single word because along came Miss Hollow, wondering where was Master Sebastian's supper tray? So Eliza had to quick make and bring up his boiled egg and rice pudding, all on her own as the kitchen was empty. But she paid no mind as she was eager to get back to lingering outside Miss Lucilla's door. Only, Miss Hollow said, "Now that you're here, you may wipe down the blinds as I've been asking for a fortnight."

Eliza didn't think fast enough to put off that dreary

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