Page 54 of The Last Necromancer
"You're taking me to Tufnell Park," I said. "To my father."
He didn't answer.
We continued through Tufnell Park, going nowhere near Father's house. I frowned at Fitzroy, but he stared out the window, his gaze intent yet unseeing. A muscle pulsed in his throat above his collar. It would seem his thoughts had distracted him. Perhaps I should try escaping again.
I waited for the coach to slow, but by the time it did, Fitzroy was once more alert. The time for leaping from the coach had passed.
"This is Whitechapel," I said, looking around.
I'd lived there twice before, including when the Ripper had been doing his worst, but not in this street. It was a narrow lane, paved with uneven stones made slick with slops and rain. There were no shops or taverns, only crumbling, crooked buildings divided into rooms. I knew from experience that those rooms were crammed with as many people that could fit into them as possible. Barefoot children watched us, their hollow faces reminding me of my own. A group of them approached the horses and coach, but Gus's hiss sent them scurrying back.
A woman with a crying baby clamped to her hip emerged from one of the buildings. She put out a hand and mouthed please. Seth tossed her a coin. That only drew out more women, and some men too.
Seth opened the door and held his hand out. It took me a moment to realize he was offering to assist me down, as a gentleman would a lady. I glanced at Fitzroy, expecting him to grab my arm and pin me to the seat.
"You wished to leave," was all he said. "So leave."
"You're letting me go? Just like that?"
"It's what you want."
I watched him through narrowed eyes. "I don't trust you. You're up to something."
"Go," he said heavily. "Let's see how long you last here without my protection."
Ah. Now I understood. He was proving a point, or trying to. I laughed without humor. "This is my home," I said, nodding at the grimy faces, the filthy gutter. "I know how to survive out here. I've been doing it for years."
"Not as a woman, and a respectable, pretty one at that."
One of the men hawked a glob of spit onto the stones. The child on the woman's hip cried harder. Fitzroy was right. Although it was daylight, and women and children crowded near, it wouldn't be long before I found myself alone at night. Dressed as a woman, I would be vulnerable, a target.
"Your lack of hair might save you," he went on. "But it also means you have nothing to sell. Aside from the obvious, of course."
I lashed out, but he caught both my wrists before I connected. He drew me closer, so that I was almost sitting on his lap. His eyes were as black up close as they were from a distance.
"Reconsider." His deep, rumbling voice almost hypnotized me into saying yes.
"No. You won't leave me here. I'm too valuable to you, and you're too cock-sure to consider failure. You won't leave me," I said again.
He let me go, shoving me back onto the seat as he did so. "Get out."
I flattened my hands down my skirts and called his bluff. I climbed out, refusing Seth's offered hand. Fitzroy closed the door himself and remained inside. Seth climbed up onto the driver's seat beside Gus and the coach pulled away.
I was free. I smiled at the retreating coach, still unable to believe that I'd won. Surely it was a trick. It must be. And yet they were out of sight already, around the corner.
A child of about six came up to me and tugged on my sleeve. "Coin, miss? We be starving."
"I haven't got any money," I told her, loud enough so that they could all hear. If they thought I had money, I wouldn't get far before I was robbed.
I walked away, ignoring the stares and the occasional tug on my skirt. With no money, my options were limited. I could sell the bonnet, and perhaps the gown after I stole some boys' clothes. I'd keep the boots. They were sturdy and only a little worn. They would last some time. I smiled as I walked along the miserable streets of Whitechapel. Fitzroy had under-estimated me.
I spent the rest of the day wandering, thinking about where next to live. I couldn't return to Stringer and the others, and Fitzroy's investigation meant I was too obvious in my previous haunts now. It might be time to leave London altogether. But where to go? How close was the nearest city?
By the time evening fell, I was starving. My stomach protested, even though I'd eaten one good meal already at breakfast. And despite being summer, it was cold. I had no shawl or coat and I'd left the gloves in the coach. I'd become too used to the good life at Lichfield Towers. I'd known that would happen. I could kick myself for accepting Fitzroy's hospitality.
As darkness descended, I settled under a railway bridge. It stank of urine but it was empty of other residents. Because of the rain, no one had hung out clothes to dry, but I hadn't given up hope. There was always the morning. I just had to get through the night unnoticed.
I drew my knees up and settled my chin on them. If Fitzroy changed his mind and returned to the place where he left me, he'd find me gone. Should I make my way back so that I was easy to find? He would have to apologize before I agreed to return.
