Shadows Falling: The Lost #2 (22 page)

To see Mad Tom of Bedlam
(he sang)

Ten thousand miles I've traveled

Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes

To save her shoes from gravel

It's well that we sing
, bonney boys

Bonney
, mad boys

Bedlam boys are bonney

For they all go bare, and they live in the air

And they want no drink nor money

I went down to Satan's Kitchen

For to break my fast one morning

And there I got souls piping hot

All on the spits a-turning

These spirits white as lightning

Did on that journey guide me

The sun did shake and the pale moon quake

Whenever they did spy me

It's well that we sing bonney boys

Bonney mad boys

Bedlam boys are bonney

For they all go bare, and they live in the air

And they want no drink nor money

Tonight I'll go a-murdering

The man in the moon to a powder

His staff I'll break and his dog I'll shake

And I'll howl a wee bit louder

To see Mad Tom of Bedlam,

Ten thousand miles I've traveled

Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes

To save her shoes from gravel

How is it that I could remember every word of that song, and forget the important things?
I remember another night of dancing as well – later. I imagined up my same red dress and heard the same song. I hummed it and sang it as I spun in the lantern light. There were terrible pies that tasted bitter and astringent and the inmates threw them at each other since they were no good for eating. I twirled a young man around in his wheelchair and he was delighted with me. He thought I was pretty and he told me pretty things as I danced the rag-time dance, around and around his chair. He clapped for me. I took him for a ride through the halls of Bedlam, but after a while I got bored of him. He kept talking and I didn’t want to listen to him anymore so I parked his chair at the top of a staircase and when he got angry because I had put the brake mechanism on and he couldn’t retreat and he couldn’t go down, I pushed him down. I suppose it wasn’t very kind of me, but he was all right in the end. Tumbled like an egg, he did, Humpty Dumpty, but he lived to tell the tale, didn’t he?

My temper came back, but my memory was getting worse. I was retreating into myself, the doctors said. Whatever that means.
“She’s going where no one can hurt her,” they whispered to Luke.”Inside her own mind.”

I worried that he was conspiring with them. How could he? I didn
’t want him around anymore if I couldn’t trust him. Angry, he told me he was afraid I would travel without him. Was that all I was to him? A ticket around the world, around history? I looked into my husband’s eyes, and I didn’t know them anymore.

He faded away.

“Write it all down,” said the doctor. “Write it all down, and maybe someday it will all make sense. Good therapy, good for the soul and good for your mind.”

At first, I resisted, remember? I didn
’t like making my letters and seeing how slowly they all came together. But I was so bored.

Boredom makes us do strange things. So, I wrote it all down and left it for someone to find. Maybe they
’ll make sense of me.

Maybe they will love Rose Gray.

It
’s over. I don’t believe there is more for me to find. She was coming undone, she’d said so herself. What had she meant by “Luke had faded away?” From her memory, from her love, or from her life? He had signed her out, let her go; that much I knew. How could he just leave her?

I am prepared now to accept what I have been rejecting before: the Lost had to be real. Maybe their genes had something special; maybe cutting edge medical research would discover it som
eday. In the meantime, what am I to do with the knowledge?

I tuck the diary back in my handbag but don
’t move from Mina’s bed.
This was the only place I had thought to come to read in peace. Nestled above the ruckus of the party, I can only just hear the merry making. I wonder if Sam is looking for me, but I do not know what to say to him, and until I do, I don’t want to be near him. I can still feel the scorching burn of his kiss on my mouth, the way he hungrily seemed to need only me, my shy and willing response, but that doesn’t mean I trust him.

If he knew of the Lost, could it be he is one of them? Would he go to sleep one night, and I would never see him again? The thought seems ridiculous, and yet, it fits.

Something else doesn’t fit though, and that’s Luke. I don’t think he would have left Rose. He seemed to really love her; completely and utterly. A terrible thought is pushing itself up to the surface, and I don’t want it to break free. If I don’t allow it to fully form, I can push it back under the waters. It’s a thought I want to drown.

Is the boy I know as Sam the man Rose knows as Luke?

26

I
’m still there, curled up on Mina’s enormous bed like a tiny spider in a huge web, when the door opens. At first, my stomach tightens, worried that it could be the masked Rose, come to confront me, but it’s only Amy, Mina’s little sister.

“
What are you doing?” Amy bounces onto the bed, and makes me bounce with her. I steady myself.

“
Taking a break from the party. What are you doing?” I slip my bag under my arm where prying little eyes can’t see it.

“
I can’t go to the party.” Her lip sticks out in an adorable pout. Amy is five and very precocious. I’ve only met her one other time—it seems as though Mrs. Dobson hides her away—but I found her to be very smart and quick. Also, she makes me laugh with her antics. “Can I sneak in under your dress?”

“
Under my dress? I think not.”

“Like Mother Gigogne? From the ballet? It’s big enough.”

“You should be in bed.”

“
I know. I know. But it’s boring in bed. I want to go to the party. You hardly fill it out. There’s plenty of room.” The lip sticks even further out.

“
I know it’s hard to be little—”

“
I’m not little!”

“
I know it’s hard to be littler than everyone else and feel like you’re missing all the fun.” I keep my voice stern, like I assume a mother would do. “But someday you’ll be big and grown up and can go to all the parties. I promise.” I yawn and pat her curls encouragingly.

She scowls.
“That’s not for forever! Tell me what’s happening down there.” She snuggles in closer.

“
Hmm. Well, there
is
a wild pig about!”

“
A wild pig?” Amy leans in, in delight. “For real?”

“
Yes, I think so. Danvers is trying to trap him with butter, so we can cook him for Christmas. He’s very big and will be delicious with onion and gravy.”

“
Yum! What else?” She leans down on the pillow with me, wide eyed. “Is there anyone kissing my sister?”

“
Amy! Of course not. What a thing to say.”

“
Well, Mummy says I must report back to her if I see anyone kissing my sister, that’s all. She’s not allowed to get rumpy pumpy with anyone.”

I can
’t help but laugh at her choice of words, but disguise it in a cough. I wish, though, that I had a mother or a sister who cared whether anyone kissed me. I touch my lips, remembering.

“
What else, what else? Is the food wonderful? Are the gowns beautiful? Is the dancing perfect?” Her blue eyes are starry and dream filled. I remember being a dream-filled orphan.

“
The dancing is exhausting, and I was nearly gored to death by a rabid reindeer. The gowns are nice enough, if you like that sort of thing, and I know you do. The food is superb, but you know that already; Cook makes it for you every night.” I poke her in the ribs.

“
Yes, but mine is served on dumb plates with dumb drinks and dumb forks. It’s all dumb.”

“
You’re being ridiculous. It tastes the same.”

“
Does not.” Amy deepens her scowl in her determination to prove her point.

“
Does too! What kind—”

The door opens again, this time in a burst of urgency.

“Amy!” exclaims Mrs. Dobson. She is dressed in a huge gown of blue. “Amy, come here this instant!” I am startled to see the white swan peer over her shoulder—Miss Helmes. The entire party seems to be relocating to Mina’s boudoir. I will never understand the habits of the rich.

“
I told you,” Mrs. Dobson hisses to Miss Helmes. “Amy, come here!” This time she snaps her fingers, no small feat in silk gloves, and Amy scurries to her side.

“
I will take care of this, ma’am,” the swan responds. “Lizzie, you shouldn’t be here. Amy is supposed to be in her bed, and you are supposed to be downstairs.” Mrs. Dobson and Amy leave, Mrs. Dobson stomping dramatically, Amy dragging her feet.

“
I’m sorry.” I frown, but don’t get up from the bed. “I had a headache, and Amy found me here.”

“
Well, Mrs. Dobson doesn’t want you...” pause, “associating with Amy. Come downstairs and rejoin the party, please.”

“
Well, that’s slightly insulting,” I grouse, but I take my leave of Mina’s wonderful bed. I don’t forget my handbag. “I’m not that bad of an example for the little thing.”

“
You know how the wealthy are.” Miss Helmes’ pat on my shoulder is very nearly sympathetic. She must have had a boatload of champagne to be feeling so magnanimous. “But don’t wander off. It’s not good form. And your young man was looking for you.”

“
He isn’t my young man.”

“
Hmm. You might tell him that then. He’s very nearly pulled this place apart looking for you. I don’t approve of love affairs in the work place, you know.” She sniffs.

“
Yes, ma’am. I will keep my love affairs to a minimum, ma’am. I am trying to cut down, you know. One love affair a week, I promise. Two maximum and three strictly on holidays.”

My sarcasm is wasted, as we are at the bottom of the stairs, and the swan that is Miss Helmes has rejoined the crowd. I am left a
lone in a sea of people again. Lucky me. I miss Mina’s bed more than ever. Mrs. Dobson doesn’t want me associating with Amy? Well, I don’t want to associate with anyone.

“
You scared us, Lizzie!” Mina appears at my side, like a fretful apparition. “Where have you been? Sam has been looking all over for you!”

“
I’ve been,” I frown, “Around. No need to send out Scotland Yard, for goodness sake. Suddenly, everyone is concerned about my whereabouts.”

“
You scared us, is all.” Mina’s pretty eyes fill up with tears at my rebuke. “I worry about you.”

“
Well, don’t,” I respond, fondly, and kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry for being a dreadful party guest. I very nearly took a nap on your lovely bed. I probably mussed your pillow. Forgive me?”

“
Oh, you!” Mina returns the kiss affectionately.  “You’re welcome anytime.”

“
I doubt it,” I think, remembering her mother’s reaction to seeing me, but it’s a nice enough sentiment, so I don’t make a rebuttal. “How goes the tumultuous love match with Mack? He confess his love yet? Because he did to me. Confess his love for you, I mean.”

Mina waves away the notion with one sweep of her pretty white hand.
“He’s just a boy, not like your handsome thing. There Sam is, over there. Oh, look! He’s still looking for you. Lizzie, go put him out of his misery, for goodness sake!” She peers across the ballroom, where I can see Sam pacing. Dancers whirl and twirl in front of him, as if they are going double time, while he moves in slow motion. I don’t want to go to him, and yet, I do. My feet seem to move of their own accord and their own volition. I want to make them turn away, go another direction, any direction, but they are on a set course towards Sam.

I push through dancers like they aren
’t even there, like they’re a cobweb I move aside. The reindeer grunts when our bodies hit, but I keep walking. Sam sees me, and his whole demeanor relaxes. He runs his hands through his already mussed hair and stays put, waiting for me to come to him. Irritating thing.

I reach him. We stand, our bodies facing one another, but neither move to touch the other. I want him to… I think.

“You had me concerned.” His voice is gruff. He clears his throat.

“
Concerned for what?” I counter.

“
I couldn’t find you.” His eyes are clouded, possibly angry. It occurs to me I don’t know what he looks like when he’s angry. Is this it, then?

“
I wasn’t far. You don’t need to be so controlling of my whereabouts just because you brought me here.” Wonderful. I sound about as mature as Amy. I stop myself before I can scowl and put my hands on my hips, or maybe stomp my feet, or throw myself on the floor and kick my legs and flail about. The possibilities are endless when you don’t have maturity to hold you back.

“
Yes, I do,” he snaps.

“
And why is that?” This time I do put my hands on my hips, if only to stop their trembling.  “Do you worry that I’m not safe here?” Does he know? Does he suspect Rose is here?

“
I think you know why.” Sam searches my face as if looking for answers, but he’s the one with all the answers, isn’t he?

“
Do I? I don’t think I know half of what you know.” I reach out then, and pull him away from the crowd, into an alcove. “Tell me about the Lost. Are they real?” I pull him into me, as well. He’s so close, I could count every eyelash.

Sam continues to search my face. He
’s going to consume me whole this way, I think. “Yes,” he murmurs. “They’re real.”

I have so many questions; I don
’t know where to start. We look at each other, me in dismay, and he in what looks like sadness. After what seems an eternity, I ask the one that means the most. “Are you one of them?”

Another eternity passes. I know, because I have grown up. He tenderly tucks my hair behind my ear again, but in answer, he doesn
’t answer, not with words. He just bends down and kisses me.