Page 23 of The King of Whitechapel (Victorian Outcasts #7)

twenty-three

T HE PALACE WAS quiet when Elizabeth finished bathing. Thank goodness the hellhound wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Checking the walkway for Darko just in case, she sneaked out of Christopher’s bedroom, smelling of bergamot, as he did, and went downstairs, her stomach grumbling.

“Hello?” she called, entering the ground-floor room functioning as a kitchen and dining room.

A long, scarred table took up half of the space. Mismatched chairs and benches were scattered around.

“There you are.” Jane dropped a tray with scones and tea on the table in front of her. “The Guv asked me to make you breakfast, but don’t get used to this special treatment. I don’t have time for this.”

“I can prepare my own breakfast. I’ve done it for the past months.”

“Good. You’ll make your own meals then. I’m busy. I have to prepare breakfast for all the others.” Jane kept cooking bacon in a large frying pan and sausages in another.

The sound of the oil sizzling was the only one in the wide room.

The moment Elizabeth took a bite of the buttered scone, her stomach roared in appreciation. The tea was strong and rich. She hadn’t enjoyed such a good meal since she’d left home. Two men she’d never seen entered the room, nodding at her.

“There.” Jane gave them two plates filled with eggs, bacon, and sausages with a smile.

“Thank you, Jane,” they chorused.

They ate and chatted among themselves, sitting as far away from her as possible. Well, she was an outsider.

Finn walked in, waving around. “Good morning, Jane, Andy, Peter. Good morning, miss.” He removed his hat and beamed. “Feeling better?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“Any plans for today?”

“I hoped to start working on the register, but I need to wait for Christopher.”

“Why don’t you come with me? I have to buy groceries for Jane.”

“Gladly.”

After Finn wolfed down the largest portion of bacon, eggs, and mushrooms she’d ever seen, they left the kitchen.

It took Finn a bit to unlock and open the heavy door. Safety was something Christopher treated seriously.

She left with Finn, wrapped in her worn cloak, searching for Christopher in every corner.

People greeted Finn as he walked down the street with a strut, and he returned the greetings with a curt nods. The street vendors glanced at her with curiosity, but no one said a word. People moved out of their way to let them pass. Or rather, to let Finn pass.

“Thank you,” she said to a woman who stepped aside. “Thank you,” she said to a man, pushing a wheelbarrow, who paused to give them space.

“You don’t need to thank them,” Finn said. “You’ll say ‘thank you’ all day.”

“It seems polite.”

“They fear the King. That’s all.”

She nodded at another passerby. “But Christopher would never hurt anyone.”

Finn exhaled. “Unfortunately. It’s all a pretence. For example, the Guv insists that we pay for what we eat. We could take whatever we want without spending a shilling, but he says we aren’t that type of criminals. He says we have bonbons.”

She laughed. “You mean bon ton , good manners.”

“Yes. We’re classy criminals.”

“Classy?”

“With principles and rules. We don’t just care about money. We care about the people of Whitechapel because they’re struggling, and we aren’t better than them. That’s what he says.”

A wave of fondness for Christopher made her smile.

They stopped at a store that sold spices, dried fruits, and even drugs. A bell rang when they pushed the door open.

“Finn, welcome. Miss.” The man behind the counter regarded her for a long moment. “What do you need today?”

Finn read from a piece of paper he took out of his pocket. “A pound of brown lentils, half a pound of dried peas, and a cup of cinnamon.”

“Right-o.”

Elizabeth inhaled the fresh scent of cardamom and ginger. They reminded her of when Cook had baked her favourite biscuits just for her. Now Cook wouldn’t greet Elizabeth if she met her in the street.

From the little she knew reading the newspapers, her family was faring well. The scandal had been contained somehow. It hadn’t touched them. She hadn’t found a single article or gossip on the scandal sheet about the Earl of Lincoln or Pearce, for that matter. She wondered what her parents had told their friends. For how long could they pretend she was staying in the country without raising questions?

“That’s it.” The man handed Finn the brown bags. “Fifteen shillings.”

Finn handed him a handful of the coins.

The man gave him a farthing. “Here’s your change.”

“Thank you.” Finn put a hand on the farthing, but Elizabeth stopped him, checking again the price of the brown lentils, cinnamon, and dried peas per ounce.

She calculated the total again.

“Wait. We need two shillings more,” she said to the man. “You gave him the wrong change.”

“Really?” Finn glowered.

“An honest mistake, miss.” With a strained smile, the man handed the correct change. “There. It’s all good.”

Finn’s expression hardened, making him look older. “You steal from the King?”

“As I said, an honest mistake,” the man said.

Grabbing the bags, Finn marched out of the shop.

“Honest mistake, my arse. Excuse my French.” He walked towards the palace, scowling all the way. “I can’t believe he tried to trick me. He had no idea what we could do to him.”

“What do you mean? Would Christopher kill him? You said you were classy criminals.”

“The Guv doesn’t kill unless it’s necessary, and never a civilian. Now Whitechapel is peaceful, but two years ago, when the Guv was getting powerful, every day was a war. Brutal, miss. People got stabbed and beaten at every corner. The Reapers, the gangsters who controlled Whitechapel before us, were beasts. They set fire to the shops and houses of those people who didn’t pay and killed on a whim. The Guv hated how they treated the locals. Them coppers didn’t mind, too busy trying to catch the Ripper.”

She shivered. “It sounds terrible.”

He lowered his voice. His cheeks reddened, making his freckles more evident. “Please don’t tell the Guv I almost lost his money. Bloody hell, who knows how many times vendors took advantage of me?”

“I won’t say a word, but do you know how to do maths?”

Finn blushed to the roots of his hair and paused in front of the heavy door to the palace. “A little. I can do simple things like counting to ten very fast and do sums, but no one has ever taught me.”

“Would you like to learn? I can teach you.”

“I would, but what for? I don’t need it.”

“I think you do, so no one will take advantage of you again.”

“I’m too stupid to learn,” he whispered, shaking his head.

She’d heard that before about her.

“Nonsense. You’ll learn in no time,” she said.

“I’m not sure, miss.” He pushed the door open.

“You aren’t stupid, Finn. Trust me.”

His tense expression softened. “But what if you realise I really am as thick as a log? What if I make a fool out of myself? You’ll regret having offered me your help.”

“I won’t. Do you want to learn?”

He gave her a shy nod. “Would love to.”

She patted his shoulder. “Don’t let fear stop you. As famous Mr. George Adair said, ‘Everything you’ve ever wanted sits on the other side of fear.’”

“Was he a poet or a philosopher?”

“Neither. A real estate developer.”

He nodded. “It makes sense.”