Page 9 of The King of Whitechapel (Victorian Outcasts #7)

nine

T HE MOMENT ELIZABETH entered her house, burning tears streamed down her cheeks in a combination of happiness, exhaustion, and worry.

She’d left Christopher behind, which was overwhelming, but she couldn’t deny the relief of being home. A maid cried out upon seeing her. Another maid helped her to the dining room, asking questions she didn’t understand.

Her mother held her, crying as well. Her father crushed them both in a fierce hug. Then it was a blur of activities with the maids helping her get a warm bath and change her clothes.

After she’d changed into a fresh gown and her hair was dry, Elizabeth sagged into an armchair in front of the fire in her warm sitting room. No draughts sneaked through the windows. The thick walls kept the cold outside, and her clothes were dry and smelling of soap. All little things she hadn’t noticed before.

The only concern was Christopher. Where was he?

“What happened to you, darling?” Mother tucked a blanket around her in the armchair.

“Miss Martin told us you retired to your bedroom because of a headache,” Father said. “Then you disappeared and the storm hit.”

She sipped her hot tea; it was rich and strong. “I needed a walk, so I left the house and didn’t tell anyone because it was supposed to be a quick affair. But the storm hit without warning, and I found refuge in the hunting lodge at Stormy Tor.”

She ended her story there. If her father had checked the lodge, her lie would be short-lived.

“Good thinking.” Father sat on the sofa. “We didn’t know what to do. The storm was too strong. I tried to come out and search for you, but I didn’t go far.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. You could have died.” As all those people frozen to death she’d seen.

“It was a nightmare, darling.” Mother held her hand.

“Is anyone else missing?” she asked casually, sipping her tea.

Her parents exchanged a glance.

Father lowered his voice. “We don’t know where Christopher is.”

She feigned surprise although she did wonder where he was. A few hours had passed since she’d returned. He should be here by now.

“He left to go to the village and never returned. No one saw him.” Father rubbed his brow. “The trains have stopped working. The roads are impassable. Many houses have crumbled. It’s chaos. I was lucky to send a wire to the duke before the whole network collapsed. I’m not sure William received my message to inform him the boy was missing, though.”

“Quiet,” Mother whispered, glancing around. “He probably found shelter in the village, and he’ll come back when he can. No need to worry.”

But Elizabeth did worry.

Dusk fell quickly, covering the white expanse with starlight. The view was beautiful, but she wouldn’t enjoy a snowy landscape as she’d used to before the storm. The temperature was dropping again, and Christopher hadn’t returned.

She paced in her bedroom, her incredibly warm, comfortable, and dry bedroom, wondering if he was warm enough or conscious. Perhaps the fall into the icy water and the trek through the snow had tired him more than he’d admitted, and the added walk and wait in the snow had weakened him to the point of exhaustion. He might have collapsed somewhere and frozen to death. Why had she listened to him?

She grabbed her thick dressing gown and hurried out of the bedroom. “Mother?” She knocked on her mother’s door.

“What is it?” Mother flung the door open and put a hand on Elizabeth’s cheek. “Do you feel sick?”

“Any news about Christopher?”

Mother shook her head, narrowing her gaze. “Your father sent Vickers and George to the village to search for him.”

“I’m worried.”

Mother eyed her as if searching for an injury. “Do you care about him that much?”

“I nearly froze to death in a hunting lodge. I saw dead people in the snow. I’ve seen what the storm did. Of course, I care. He must have been scared as much as I was, being alone out there.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it. Go to bed.” Mother waved her away. “When they find Christopher, I’ll let you know.”

“I want to go out and search for him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mother took her arm and dragged her to her bedroom. “You almost died out there, and you wouldn’t know where to search anyway. Let Vickers and George do their work. If you get lost, we’ll have to search for you instead of him.”

That was a good point, but worry was eating her from the inside out.

She flinched when Mother slammed the door shut. Going out alone at night wasn’t the sensible thing to do, and she was weak, but she couldn’t sleep in her safe bedroom, knowing he was out there.

Christopher wouldn’t survive the night if he’d been too weak to carry on and fallen unconscious on the path. The images of the frozen limbs of those dead people tormented her. What if he needed her?

Enough. She’d wear her warmest clothes and find a footman who agreed to escort her. She had to search for Christopher, do something. She would start from the point where they’d separated and search for him from there.

She opened her armoire when the sound of a door shutting came. Loud voices echoed from the corridor. Footsteps thudded.

Dash it all . She slipped out of her room. A maid rushed down the corridor, and Elizabeth followed her.

“In the blue room,” Mother said from the ground floor. “Quickly.”

“Mother?”

Elizabeth sped up but skidded to a halt upon seeing Vickers and George holding up an unconscious Christopher by his arms. His head hung over his chest, and he was so pale she feared he didn’t have any warmth left. The tips of his boots hit the steps as he was dragged up the stairs like a ragdoll.

She clamped her hands over her mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Mother pushed her towards her bedroom. “You’re in your dressing gown.”

She craned her neck to keep looking at him, but Vickers and George disappeared behind a corner. Then Mother tugged her into her bedroom and shut the door behind them.

“How is he?” she asked.

“Not well. They found him staggering on the path on his way here. He’s extremely weak because of the cold. Vickers fears he might die.”

A sharp pang sliced Elizabeth’s chest open.

“I want to see him.” She started to brush past her mother but didn’t go far.

Mother seized her arm with surprising strength. “Absolutely not.”

“Let me go.” She shrugged herself free.

“You aren’t leaving this room.”

“I must see him.” She sidestepped her mother who seized her arm again.

“What is the meaning of this nonsensical behaviour? You barely know him, and you aren’t supposed to talk to him.” Mother pulled her towards the bed. “I don’t know what happened or why you care, but you aren’t going to see that man ever again.”

“He nearly died!”

“So what? No one will miss him. Go to bed.”

“Mother—”

“Listen to me.” Mother pointed a finger at her. “Stop this fuss. You’re tired and weak. Go to sleep. That boy doesn’t matter. He’s no one.”

But he did matter, and he was everything. She tried to make a dash for the door, but Mother was quicker.

Before exiting, Mother took the key and locked the door. The click sounded like thunder.

“Mother!”

Elizabeth thumped the door, hurting her fist. Hot tears stung her eyes. How could her own mother be so cruel? She slammed her hand on the door and screamed, but no one came. Exhaustion caught her until her punches became weak slaps and her throat hurt too much for her to even whisper.

She sagged on the floor, crying.

The important thing was that Christopher was home and safe. Almost.

If Christopher died, they would tell her, wouldn’t they?

* * *

The chill never really left Elizabeth, despite the fact her bedroom was more than warm. A night spent worrying about Christopher had left her tired, cold, and defeated.

In the early morning, when the flame-keeper maid unlocked the door to light the fire, she sat bolt upright on the bed.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

The woman jolted. “Who, my lady?”

“Mr. Blackwood.”

“I don’t know, my lady.”

“Where did they take him?”

“I have no idea, my lady. Sorry.” The maid kept her gaze on the fireplace until she finished scooping up the ashes and lighting the fire.

With the help of her personal maid, Elizabeth changed into a thick, high-necked dress—both because of the cold and because she didn’t want an argument with her mother about low-necked gowns—and marched down the corridor where Christopher had been taken. But the bedrooms in that part of the house were empty. She searched the other corridor, but nothing. More empty rooms.

She headed for the dining room. The day had barely started, but anger simmered strong and fierce in her chest.

Mother was having breakfast alone at the pristine table with the white tablecloth and a steaming cup of tea. Porridge, eggs, kippers, and bacon. For some reason, the sight of that feast irked Elizabeth further.

“I demand to see him,” she said.

“Is that the way to address me? Not even a good morning?” Mother paused eating her porridge. “And no, you can’t see him.”

“Did he die?” The breath rushed out of her mouth in a painful exhale.

“Good gracious.” Mother put down her cup of tea with enough energy to spill a few drops. “I’m so tired of having this conversation. Why are you so worried about him?”

“Because he’s our guest and a …” She glanced at the maid serving at the table.

The urge to tell her mother she’d been locked in a cottage with Christopher during the storm almost made her confess everything. The only reason she stopped herself was because she didn’t want to cause Christopher further trouble.

If the truth came out, her parents would order him to go away at best, and send for the police at worst. As he’d said, they would blame him the most.

“Mother, please,” she whispered. “He deserves some compassion and is our responsibility. If something happens to him, the d?—”

“Quiet.” Mother rubbed her forehead. “He’s alive and recovering. That’s all you need to know.”

“I want to see him.”

Mother rose from the chair in one smooth movement. “No.”

“Where is he?”

The slap stung Elizabeth’s cheek, but the surprise hurt her more. Mother had never, ever raised a hand to strike her children. Elizabeth had never been slapped by anyone.

Mother shook with rage. “I don’t know what has got into you, but your reputation can’t be associated with that young man for any reason. It’s already too dangerous having him here. The fact he went missing attracted too much attention to us without you behaving so irresponsibly.”

Elizabeth put a hand on her cheek. “How could you?”

“He isn’t simply illegitimate but a thief as well and the son of a fallen woman. He’s been expelled from the most prestigious school in the country for thievery. His reputation is akin to that of a criminal. The last thing you need is to get close to him.”

“He isn’t a thief.”

Mother glared at her, likely understanding Elizabeth’s interest in Christopher was more than compassion. She waved dismissively. “Go back to your bedroom. You’ll have your breakfast there.”

Elizabeth strode towards the door but paused on the threshold. “I’m ashamed of being your daughter.” She left before her mother could reply.

* * *

Elizabeth didn’t know what hurt the most: her cheek her mother had slapped or her heart. At least Christopher was safe. That was the only good thing about the past two days.

Alone in her bedroom, she stared at her cup of tea slowly getting colder. Her plate with ham and eggs lay untouched on the table.

After the awful conversation with her mother, Elizabeth had avoided her, having her meals in her bedroom and roaming the house in search of Christopher when possible. The anger had been replaced by sadness and a deep sense of bewilderment at her mother’s behaviour. She’d experienced how illegitimate sons were discriminated against for a matter of hours, and she was already exhausted and disappointed. She couldn’t imagine how tiring and frustrating it had to be for Christopher.

When a knock at the door came, she didn’t glance up from her cup.

“My lady,” the maid said, “Miss Norton is here to see you.”

That got her attention. At least a visit would distract her, possibly not in a good way since Rebecca, daughter of Viscount Keadew, was one of those people who had been furious with her for having cheated at that stupid competition. Although it was nice of Rebecca to come here and visit Elizabeth.

Rebecca stepped inside the room, staring at her as someone would stare at a dangerous beast. Her auburn hair was styled in a complicated chignon more suitable for a fancy dinner party than an afternoon call.

“Elizabeth, sorry to come unannounced, but I heard you went missing. How are you?”

“Thank you for coming. I’m well now.” Not really.

“My family and I were locked in the house during the storm, and it was awful. I can’t imagine being outside.” Rebecca took the chair in front of her. “Goodness, is that a bruise on your forehead?”

“I’m all right. It’s an old bruise.”

“Your mother told me you found shelter close to Stormy Tor.”

She cleared her throat. “I stayed in my father’s hunting lodge. It’s well supplied, thank goodness.”

“It must have been terrifying for you.” Rebecca eyed the untouched breakfast. “I think I saw you three days ago from my window after the storm. You were heading to Spencer Hall. It was about two in the afternoon.”

She perked up. Rebecca might have seen Christopher as well. “It was probably me.”

“But if you’d found shelter in your father’s hunting lodge, you would have come from the opposite direction, and I wouldn’t have been able to see you.”

“I took the easiest path to reach home. The less snowy one. I’m not entirely sure which route I took.”

“But you must have walked for miles around the estate to come to Spencer Hall from the northern path. With the snow, it would have been too hard for you. How is that possible? It sounds odd to me.”

Oh, no. She didn’t have time or patience for accusations. “I don’t know what to say.”

Rebecca insisted. “But you couldn’t have been at Stormy Tor. I don’t understand how you managed to trek through the snow for miles.”

“And I don’t understand what you’re implying, Rebecca.” Elizabeth wasn’t in the mood for polite conversations, or worse, hypocrisy. “Your visit sounds like an interrogation.”

Rebecca flushed. “I simply wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“It seems you doubt my story.” Which was understandable because everything Rebecca had said made sense, but Elizabeth had to protect Christopher.

“I was concerned. And I saw your servants coming and going from Spencer Hall for days.”

Elizabeth frowned. Rebecca spent a lot of time at her window. “And?”

“Well, I wondered who else in your family was missing since obviously your servants were looking for someone else, and with all those carriages arriving after the road was cleared, I thought something important had happened.”

“What carriages?” Only the physician had arrived to visit her, but she hadn’t paid attention to the visitors, and her bedroom window didn’t overlook the driveway.

Rebecca’s silence implied she found the sudden activity at Spencer Hill odd. So did Elizabeth.

Rebecca hesitated before speaking. “I think you had visitors. Someone did come here. I’ve seen at least one travelling coach arrive. Don’t you know?”

Likely, Rebecca had asked the same questions to Mother, who hadn’t answered. Hence Rebecca’s impromptu visit to Elizabeth.

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “I’ve spent a lot of time in my bedroom.”

“I see. But no one else is missing, right?”

“No one.”

“Not even that mysterious guest of yours?”

Dash it. “I’m not sure whom you’re referring to.”

“A blond man? Tall and with a dark coat?”

She feigned lack of surprise. “One of Father’s friends, perhaps.”

Rebecca’s expression seemed to say, ‘yes, sure.’

Elizabeth didn’t add anything.

“Well,” Rebecca said, standing up. “I’m sorry if I bothered you. I’m simply concerned about you.”

And curious to know who had come to Spencer Hall.

“Thank you, Rebecca.”

“I wish you well. Really.” Rebecca paused at the door. “Just so you know, a man came out of the coach that arrived an hour ago. I hope everything is all right.”

Elizabeth rubbed her aching forehead when Rebecca left. She hoped everything was all right, too.