Page 73 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
“How are ya, doc?” Nash spit down onto the carpet.
“Listen, I, I didn't mean, I–” Francis sputtered out the words, at a complete loss as to how he should proceed. It seemed like the jig was finally up, and he had walked right into it.
“I don't want to hear it, doc.” Nash sounded different; he didn't sound angry or excited, instead he was melancholic. Francis had never seen him in such a state, physically or otherwise.
“Please don't kill me.” Francis whispered.
“I ain't gonna kill you doc.” Nash looked back and forth in the room and located the side table holding the liquor. He limped there and picked up a bottle of what Francis knew to be terribly expensive brandy. Nash tilted it to his lips and took a large swig, only to spit it out all over the floor. “Why the hell is it so sweet?”
“It's brandy.” Francis whimpered.
“Huh, I never had brandy.” Nash looked curiously at the bottle, then limped back towards the window. “Listen doc, you've got to get out of London.”
“Yes, of course, whatever you say.” Francis was clutching the wine bottle to his chest as a sort of shield between them.
“Shut it, doc!” Nash shouted. Francis winced at the volume, knowing his wife may well have heard the commotion. “You ain't hearin' me! It's not me that's gonna kill ya, it's Riphook, and he's not so nice about it. You got to pack up your fancy armchair,” he glanced around quickly, “and brandy and get on out of here. Hell, no time for that even. Grab your money and get out! He's coming for you, Fowler, and he's coming for me. You did a fine thing not killin' that girl. Now get out of London before you'll be wishin' you had.”
“Francis?” His wife appeared in the door, nervously holding a lamp. The scene before her was a strange one to be sure.
“Hello, ma'am.” Nash waved lazily at the lady. She screamed out when she saw his burnt face. “Don't mind the interruption.”
Nash climbed back up on the window ledge and turned back to the room. Francis lay panicking on the floor, and his wife stood in shock and fear at the injured man in the window.
“Looks like the cat's out of the bag now, doc.” Nash laughed. “So much for keeping any of that a secret.”
“Francis, what is he talking about?” she screamed. “Francis, do you know this man?”
“Get out now, Francis.” Nash said, staring him cold in his eyes before he leapt out of the window. “Riphook's coming for you.” and he was gone.
Chapter 20
Leah had made her preparations, as few as they were. The moon was bursting out from between the wispy clouds, and Leah watched the branches outside her grand windows for a final time.
They shifted ever so slightly in the batting breeze, in what was almost a dance if she looked long enough. Inevitably she realized the spectacle for the distraction it was, and she made ready for her departure.
Leah took up one of the heavy quilts that lay folded at the foot of the bed and draped it about her shoulders as an improvised traveling cloak.
It will have to do.
Holding her breath, Leah pushed open the door to her room silently. It swung open on the hinges she had carefully dabbed with whale oil from a nearby lantern. The hall beyond was empty and still, and in the deep silence of it all, Leah felt her anxiety rise.
She took measured steps, both for the sake of noise and for her rib cage. The grand paintings on the walls around her seemed to glare downwards as she slunk by, sinking into her old stance.
At one point she creaked on a board, and the suspense the sound wrought down upon her left her immobilized in the dark, waiting to hear if anything was responding. Nothing was, and so, she kept moving onwards.
Leah came to the stairs, and then the front entryway. The house was silent still, only subject to the whine of wavering winds on the late summer night.
Then there were footsteps.Where are they coming from?There were in the walls, Leah realized.There are still servants awake in the passageways.
Leah, pressed up against the wall, inched slower than ever before. The entryway loomed in front of her, as if it were taunting her efforts.
A door clicked open, and Leah ducked fast behind a hallway side table. In the darkness of the house she could see a servant, illuminated by the small candle in their hand, as they crept quietly from one servant's door to the other.
No doubt they knew full well they were not to be in the halls at this time of night, and Leah realized that the servant she watched was likely just as afraid of being caught as she was.Well, perhaps not just as scared.
After the door clicked shut behind them, Leah turned back to the manor's front door.
She could feel immense despair, and frustration as she pushed the door open.I am running away again.But she reaffirmed her resolve and went out into the night.I must survive, any way I can.So, she went through the door and out into the night.
