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Mrs. Abbott looked alarmed. “My lady, a hansom—”
“Don’t worry about that. The problem is that when Mr. Vance realizes I’m not here, he’ll follow me to the station. It’s fairly obvious that Eversby Priory is the only place I could take Charity.”
“We’ll stall for you,” Pandora said. “We’ll lock your bedroom door and pretend to be helping with Charity.”
“I’ll speak to one of the footmen,” the housekeeper said quietly. “Mr. Vance’s carriage will be missing a perch-bolt when he tries to leave.”
Impulsively Helen snatched up her hand and kissed it.
Mrs. Abbott seemed slightly unnerved by the gesture. “There, there, my lady. I’ll send Agatha back up to help you dress.”
“We’ll take care of the rest,” Cassandra said.
The next few minutes were a strange, mad scramble of feverish activity and quiet murmurs. Helen had already donned her chemise and drawers by the time Agatha came to the room, and was struggling with her corset. In her haste, she couldn’t match the front hooks up correctly.
Agatha came to her, reached for the top of the busk, and began to hook it deftly. “My mum always says, ‘fast is slow and slow is fast.’”
“I’ll try to remember that,” Helen said ruefully.
After finishing the corset, the maid went to the wardrobe.
“No, don’t,” Helen said, realizing what she was looking for. “I’m not going to wear a bustle.”
“My lady?” the maid asked, looking shocked.
“Just pin up the loose parts of my traveling skirts in back,” Helen insisted. “I can’t walk in tiny steps today, I have to move.”
Agatha hurried back to her with a black traveling skirt and a white blouse.
On the other side of the room, Cassandra dressed Charity with remarkable speed, telling her with a smile that she was going on an outing with Helen. “Pandora, she has no bonnet or coat. Will you fetch her a shawl or something?”
Pandora dashed off to her room and returned with a shawl and a small, low-crowned felt hat trimmed with cord. Since there was no significant difference between girls’ and women’s hat styles, it would work well enough.
After helping Helen to don her black traveling jacket, Agatha asked, “Shall I run to the pantry and fetch something for you to take, my lady?”
Cassandra answered from the window, where she had gone after hearing a noise from outside. “No time,” she said tersely. “Mr. Vance’s carriage has arrived.”
Agatha gathered Helen’s loose locks, twisted them with a few violent jerks, pulled a few pins from her own hair, and anchored a simple knot high on Helen’s head. Pandora snatched a hat from the wardrobe and tossed it to the maid, who caught it with one hand and fastened it just above the knot of hair.
“Do you have money?” Cassandra asked.
“Yes.” Helen strode to the tapestry bag, took out some gloves, and closed the top. “Charity,” she asked, shaping her mouth into a smile, “are you ready to go on an outing?”
The child nodded. With the hat covering the ragged mop of her hair, and the shawl concealing most of the orphanage uniform, she looked tidy and presentable.
Cassandra glanced over Helen. “You seem so calm.”
“My heart’s about to burst,” Helen said. “Quickly, let’s say good-bye.”
Cassandra kissed her cheek. “I love you,” she whispered, and crouched down to hug Charity.
Pandora followed suit, kissing Helen and bending to take Charity’s face in her hands. Apparently assuming that Pandora wanted to inspect her teeth, as she had the previous night, Charity opened her mouth to display her lower incisors.
Pandora grinned. Nudging the small mouth closed with a gentle finger, she kissed the child’s nose. Standing, she gave Helen a businesslike nod. “We’ll buy you as much time as we can.”
Picking up the tapestry bag, and taking Charity’s hand, Helen followed Agatha from the room. Immediately after she crossed the threshold, the door closed, and the key turned decisively in the lock.
Chapter 31
ALONG THE WAY TO Waterloo Station, in a hansom cab that jounced, tilted, and swayed with suicidal fervor, Helen discovered that it was easier to be brave in the presence of a child than when she was alone. She was so determined to keep Charity from worrying that she found herself making ridiculous comments, such as “Isn’t this exciting?” when they nearly crashed into an omnibus, or “How exhilarating!” when the wheels hit a hole in the road and the vehicle was briefly airborne. Charity remained silent, staring at the chaotic world rushing past them. She had a remarkable willingness to endure discomfort or uncertainty without complaining. Whenever Helen had been praised during her childhood, it had usually been for the same quality. She wasn’t certain that had been a good thing.
The hansom stopped on Waterloo Road beside one of the massive train sheds. Helen handed up the payment to the driver and grappled with her tapestry bag as she descended from the vehicle. She reached for Charity, who half-jumped, half-fell into her arms. Catching her neatly, Helen lowered her feet to the pavement. She felt a flicker of triumph. I couldn’t have done that with a bustle. Gripping the tapestry bag on one side and holding Charity’s hand on the other, Helen followed the flow of the crowd as it poured into the station.
The approach to the booking office was a narrow, convoluted path, leading through a collection of temporary structures. The station was in the process of yet another expansion, with the result that the waiting rooms and service areas were crudely constructed and unpainted. Keeping a firm grasp on Charity, Helen waited her turn in line, watching as parcel clerks, booking clerks, and porters rushed back and forth from the row of ticket counters. She reached the front of the line, where a clerk informed her that the train to Alton Station would depart in an hour and a half.