Page 9 of I Will Steal You the Stars
‘Let me see. He’s educated, he bathes daily, and he has an income of a thousand pounds a year.’ She tapped off each point with a little flick in the air, but to his immense satisfaction, he caught no hint of admiration, or even loss. Whatever spell the man had cast on her, it had broken. She might be carrying the cad’s baby, but she’d managed to keep a hold of her heart. Clever girl.
‘I’ll tell you the difference,’ he said as he stuffed his cap into his pocket, removed a top hat from the stand and dropped it onto his head. ‘Nothing, except clothes and trappings and rules they made up to keep people like you and me out. A switch of fate, a different day, and we could have been the children of men like that. Instead, we were bastards in an orphanage.’
‘I am not a bastard. Just an orphan.’
‘And people know and care how?’ Enzo pulled a coat from the stand and shrugged it over his shoulders.
‘You can’t wear that, you’ll leave fleas,’ she chided.
‘I do not have fleas!’
She laughed at his horror, then tugged the lapel and pushed each button through a buttonhole, before smoothing them. ‘You would make a suave toff. You have that same way of looking at people that makes them think you’re their world, even though you are never quite sure what they’re thinking.’
‘I will tell you what I’m thinking.’ Enzo leaned in closer. That wicked little sparkle flickered in Mina’s eyes. ‘I’m thinking a swell about town loves nothing more than to show off his house.’ He pulled a straw boater from the stand and roughed it onto her head, over the cap. ‘You need a new hat.’ He tied the ribbon intoa bow beneath her chin. ‘And a fancy dress. No outdated fashion in my home.’ He pulled a scarf from the stand and wrapped it around her waist. ‘And as this is London and terribly sunny, you cannot go anywhere without a parasol.’ With a flourish, he withdrew a pink lace umbrella from the stand, like he was unsheathing a sword. It popped open into the space between them, and he yanked it closed again. ‘Perhaps not. Might be bad luck.’
He swept the top hat from his head and bowed with an exaggerated flourish. ‘May I show you around my humble abode, my lady? It’s terribly cramped with sixteen bedrooms, four privies and only one floor for my collection of spats. I cannot wait to get back to the country so we can stretch out again.’
Mina giggled, then stiffened into seriousness. ‘We don’t have time for games.’
‘I’ll keep my ear on the time.’ He held out his elbow. ‘Come on. Have some fun above ground. Haven’t you earnt it? Let me take you on a tour.’
‘You don’t even know where you are going,’ she said as she slid her hand around his elbow and directed him toward the stairs.
‘Nonsense. I am a lord, I know everything. Even when I don’t.’ He set off with purpose, Mina beside him.
A mahogany wood balustrade, smooth and shiny with decades of use, guided them upwards. Gold leaf wallpaper lined the stairwell where paintings hung frame to frame. So this was the house of the man who had sponsored him. One of his houses, anyway—there was no doubt something grander in the country, likely bigger than all the Wild Court Rookery. Enzo had discarded his sponsor’s heavy moniker as soon as he’d landed on the opposite side of the Duke Street fence, but before, as a naïve child, he’d wondered if the man who had loaned him a surname had been his father. There were always whispers about it, as boys tried to see if any of the benefactors who came for fundraisers orto wax lyrical to journalists when they were on the hustings had the slightest resemblance to themselves.His nose, his ears, his eyes, are just like mine, they’d murmur, as if half the population of London didn’t look somewhat the same.
Mina peeked into the first door on the right. She shook her head. ‘That’s the lady’s sitting room. His office must be second.’
‘What will you do once you get away?’ he asked. ‘In your new town?’
‘I’m hoping to find a good family to leave the baby with during the day, so I can work. There must be households in those towns who need a maid. And if I say I’m newly widowed, and haven’t worked in service before, they might not think about asking for references.’
‘You’ll go to all this trouble, travel hundreds of miles, to still be a maid?’
Mina bowed her head and studied her toes. ‘What else can I be?’ she asked.
They reached the second door. Enzo shoved it open. A heavy desk sat in the centre of the room, and behind it, the walls were lined with shelves and paintings.
‘Seamus tells a story. About a rabbit, chased by a fox. The rabbit ran and ran and ran, and the fox nipped at his tail, until, through the smallest gap, it dove between the thorns and into a blackberry bush. The fox tried to follow, but he was too big. The thorns hurt his nose. They scratched his paw pads. He paced back and forth, walked three whole laps, but he could not find a way to reach the rabbit. Eventually, the fox gave up, and went off in search of easier prey.’
Enzo unthreaded himself from Mina’s hold. He placed the hat on the edge of the desk, then scanned the wall.
‘The rabbit watched the fox leave.’ Enzo ran his finger along the edge of each painting, until beneath a portrait of the great man himself, he found the bump. A hinge. He slid his fingerdown the opposite length, located the latch, then clipped it open. He swung the painting out to reveal a secret nook, and inside, an ancient, iron safe. ‘After a time, all seemed clear. But what if the fox came back? What if it was watching from behind a tree? In the blackberry bush, there was fresh grass, and leaves, and it was cool, and safe. The rabbit made itself comfortable.’
Enzo took out his tools. The safe had likely been in use for a few generations, and was easy to open, if you knew how to lift the double barrel bolt. He inserted his jemmy into the lock, and adjusted, twisted, until he felt the mechanism shift, and heard the iron click.
‘The sun rose and set, birds nested and raised chicks, and the rabbit remained happy in the blackberries. Why would I leave, he thought, when I have everything I need? The leaves give me shelter. I lick the dew and drink the rain. The grass is a little tough, but it is still food. If I stay here, I will be safe forever. Until one spring morning, the rabbit woke, turned in a little half circle, and his tail caught on a thorn. He squealed, and hopped with shock, and another caught his ear. He twisted, trying to find a place where he did not touch the brambles, but every move he made pinned him closer to the ground. He'd gotten so comfortable in the blackberries, he did not notice the vines grow thicker, the thorns sharper, until they began to press.’
Enzo swung the safe door open. A long thin wooden box filled with yellow envelopes and scrawled with first names ran one length. Beside it sat another box, piled high with stacks of wooden chips. Enzo pulled one out and spun it between his fingers. As a child, Matron had made sure he recognised the crest of his sponsor, and the imprint on this chip was not that crest.
‘The rabbit, with his ears flat, his tail low and his paws folded, could look over the meadow, between the thorny vines and leaves, but he could not feel the breeze through his fur. He couldnot eat fresh shoots warmed by the sun. And he could not drink running water from the stream. Not unless he tore free. You, Mina Fischer, have become comfortable in the blackberry bush. You are convinced that you can live in no other world than the one Duke Street promised you. You are still on the other side of the fence. You’ve become a rabbit,’ he said, stepping forward to take her hand. ‘You need to be a lion.’
‘A lioness,’ she corrected with a shy pout.
‘Yes, a lioness. Can you growl?’
‘Grrr…’
