Page 14 of The Lady and the Lion (Victorian Outcasts #9)

twelve

G oing out was a terrible idea.

During the long period in which Samuel had been cooped up in the captain’s house, he had never complained. Not once. As much as the flat could be oppressive, it was safe, and the fear of meeting Murdock or being arrested by the police had been the strongest motivation to stay indoors.

But now that the police had stopped searching for him and Murdock was gone, the sunlight was a temptation too big.

He wanted to feel the warmth of the sun on his skin and the breeze on his face. He wanted to be part of the colourful crowd on the pavement. Be someone normal.

But the moment he stepped out of the safety of the flat, he fought the impulse to rush back inside. His legs trembled, and his vision darkened at the edges.

The fear of making a fool out of himself in front of Vivienne forced him to pull himself together, so he swallowed past the lump in his throat and walked close to the captain.

Likely, she already had a poor opinion of him; he barely answered her questions about his past or his future, and her knowledge of books and the world, in general, was so vast it couldn’t be compared to his. She often talked about famous poets or places he knew nothing about.

To her eyes, he feared he was an ignorant young man with no name and no past. He didn’t want to be marked as a coward as well.

“Beautiful day.” Vivienne closed her eyes for a moment in the sunlight.

Her long eyelashes overlapped at the tips against the perfect alabaster of her skin. When she opened her eyes and realised he was staring at her, he averted his gaze, feeling like a thief.

“Let’s go.” The captain put on a Bowler hat. “It was time to go out, lad.”

“I’m not sure,” Dobkins said. “It might be too soon for Samuel.”

“I disagree,” the captain said. “As usual.”

Stepping onto the pavement, Samuel wished he could hold Lady Vivienne’s hand to get some courage.

The deafening clapping of the horses’ hooves against the cobbles startled him. People talked in loud voices and so quickly he found it difficult to understand what they were saying. Or maybe he was too nervous. The collar of his shirt had turned too tight all of a sudden.

When a boom and a flash of fire blazed out of a corner, he couldn’t contain himself and made a dash for the house.

“Do not worry.” Vivienne closed her hand gently around his wrist. “It’s only the sound of a blast furnace. It makes steel. It’s not dangerous. You must have heard that noise many times.”

Yes, he had, and he also knew what the furnaces did.

He nodded. So much for not being a coward.

The feel of her soft fingers on his skin shot a riot of sensations through his body. He was petrified but not because of fear. He wished to lace his fingers through hers and hold her hand while he walked in this strange city he didn’t understand.

The captain walked next to him as if ready to protect him, and Dobkins walked next to Lady Vivienne.

“Do you want to go home?” Vivienne asked.

He stared at her elegant fingers on his rough skin. “No,” he signed.

“Would you like to go to the park? It’s lovely and quiet.” She withdrew her hand, and his heart thudded faster.

He took her hand, maybe squeezing it with too much energy. She whipped her head towards him, her blue eyes filled with surprise. His manners were non-existent, but he needed the contact with her.

Captain Jackson and Dobkins mostly tried to explain to him all the rules of civil behaviour, but he found it difficult to remember them. Still, even an uneducated man like him understood that grabbing a lady’s hand wasn’t something he should do.

He released her although it cost every ounce of his willpower. “Apologies,” he signed slowly. “I’m nervous.”

“Don’t look at the people around you,” she said. “Focus on one of us.”

He walked along the busy pavement. If he ignored the noises and didn’t get distracted by the crowd, he could control his reactions.

A man rushing past him startled him. Someone else bumped lightly into him, sending his heart into a frenzy.

“It’s all right. You’ve nothing to fear,” she said.

He sucked in a breath when she brushed his fingers. Surely a casual gesture. But when she slid her hand into his, his pulse spiked.

She was staring ahead, and he did the same. Her hand in his felt both reassuring and serious, like a responsibility. He hoped he wasn’t holding her hand with too much strength.

His heartbeat slowed, and warmth spread from his palm to his chest. Slowly he breathed normally, inhaling the combination of different scents—coal dust, horse dung, and freshly baked bread.

No one paid him the slightest bit of attention. People rushed past him, busy with their errands, without stopping to sneer or point at him. Crowds had always been given to insults and cruelty. The lack of interest in him was a welcome change. He’d never been happier to be ignored.

“Better?” She tugged at his hand.

He nodded.

The park distracted him again. Tall, leafy trees swayed their canopies in the breeze. Green grass stretched in front of him seemingly forever, and birds sang while flying across the sky—the ultimate freedom.

She let his hand go, and the loss of her touch was as painful as one of Murdock’s beatings.

“This is The Regent’s Park.” She gestured around. “One of the most famous parks in London, but not the largest. Richmond Park holds that record.”

“Is there a park bigger than this one?”

“Much bigger. The main path in Richmond Park is more than seven miles long.”

Seven miles. He wasn’t sure how much that was, but for her sake, he pretended to be impressed. The end of the park wasn’t visible. London was big indeed.

She tugged at his sleeve. “And that circular stone thingamabob is the Griffin Tazza, also known as the Lion Vase.”

He stopped in front of the statues of four winged lions balancing a large bowl over their backs. Red flowers grew at the base while blue flowers sprouted out of the bowl. So many colours!

“Sorry.” She rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t think about…you’re probably tired of hearing the word lion .”

“I’m not hurt,” he signed slowly, wanting her to understand. “I trust you.”

She gave him a graceful nod.

The breeze caressing his cheeks and ruffling his hair was the best gift of his newfound freedom.

The gravel path weaved through trimmed bushes and fountains.

Maybe the view was mundane for Vivienne, but the variety of colours, scents, and lights overwhelmed his senses in a good way.

Life pumped through his veins, and for once, the energy flowing through him wasn’t fear, anger, or the result of a potion.

They stopped where a crowd had gathered around two street performers. An actor in a fine tailored suit played the role of a lord while the other his clumsy servant.

He laughed as the servant kept dropping the tray with the tea cups or tripping on his feet. But when the lord raised his walking stick to hit the servant, he stopped breathing for a moment.

Cold sweat trickled down his back. He winced every time the lord hit the servant, even though the beating wasn’t real and the servant’s groans sounded phoney.

A phantom pain burned his back, and the familiar anger and sense of impotence crawled over him like an army of ants.

The face of the actor became that of Murdock, twisted in anger, his beady eyes glinting. The laughter of the audience mocked him. The sunlight vanished, replaced by the darkness of his cage.

No, he would never, ever go back to the circus. He’d rather die than be caged again.

He spun on his heels, crunching the gravel, and ran away. A buzzing noise rang in his ears, turning into Murdock’s icy voice.

You belong to me .

No, he didn’t.

You’re a beast .

No. He was a man, not a creature. He was free to live his life. No more beatings. No more performances.

He sped up, but the crowd’s mocking laugh followed him.

“Samuel.” Vivienne swept into view in front of him, a hand on his chest. “Please stop.”

He hadn’t even noticed her.

Her touch shocked him into reality. His heart pounded against her palm, and his attention focused on her worried eyes.

She removed her hand quickly. “Are you all right?”

“No.”

“It was the performance, wasn’t it?”

A bitter taste filled his mouth. Not only fear but shame as well caused him to shake. He must have looked as deranged as Murdock had always said.

Footsteps came from behind him.

Captain Jackson squeezed his shoulder. “There’s a bench over there. You’d better sit down.”

He didn’t move, and he didn’t know why.

“Samuel.” Vivienne took his arm and gently led him to the edge of the path. “Please listen to us.”

He followed her, his body moving mechanically. He sat on the bench under a large tree from where he couldn’t see the performers although the audience’s laughter reached him, bothering him.

“What happened?” Dobkins asked.

“Something I’ve seen among soldiers too many times.” Captain Jackson sat next to him. “Take deep breaths and focus on something happy.”

He raised a sceptical eyebrow at the captain. A happy memory couldn’t have any power over his fear.

“It works. Try it.” The captain nodded encouragingly.

No, the trick didn’t work because Samuel didn’t have many happy moments to recall. The first happy moments of his life had happened recently, and even those were entwined with fear, shame, and pain.

“Perhaps he doesn’t have many happy memories,” Vivienne said, seemingly reading his mind.

“I’ll fetch you something to drink.” Captain Jackson rose. “A lemonade with a lot of sugar.” He started to walk off.

“Wait, I’ll take one for Lady Vivienne as well.” Dobkins followed him.

Without saying anything, Vivienne took his hand and stroked his knuckles. “Perhaps we can make a good memory.” She sat next to him in a swish of fabric.

His head was light, but he forced himself not to faint. “How?”

She started singing softly a song about a boat sailing along a quiet sea, and how the thoughts of the sailor drifted towards the horizon as he was eager to see all the wonders of the world.

Her voice was like her—gentle, soft, and beautiful.

From sun-kissed shores to lagoons of emerald hue,

From ancient ruins to bustling ports,

A sailor’s journey, always fresh and new.

With weathered hands and a heart that holds the sea,

Through coral reefs, where vibrant fish swim,

He sails to lands, his spirit always free.

He imagined being that sailor, leading his ship towards wonderful, new places, away from the darkness of his past, somewhere he could start afresh and be only himself.

Her velvety hand over his spread calm through him. She had elegant, slender fingers with a delicate touch.

His dark thoughts drifted away with the song, sailing on a sea of enchantment. Freedom was the most intoxicating of feelings, and the fear of losing it was equally powerful.

When she finished, he couldn’t help but smile, his breathing less troubled.

“Thank you,” he signed. “I’ll bring this memory with me forever.”

She smiled back and withdrew her hand as Captain Jackson and Dobkins returned with the lemonade cups.

“Better?” The captain handed him the cup.

“Yes.” He sipped the sweet drink, watching a group of children romping about on the grass.

They were playing with a hoop and a stick. Such a simple game, but the children laughed, delighted.

Vivienne glanced at him. “Do you like the lemonade?”

He put the cup down to free his hands. “Delicious. I’ve never tasted it before. Another happy memory.”

Her smile dropped, and her eyes turned surprisingly shiny.

“What is it?” He worried he’d said something wrong.

Her hand was half an inch from his on the bench. She stretched out a finger to touch his thumb. The touch was barely there. A feather floating down on his skin would be stronger. But the reaction it triggered inside him was as devastating as a storm.

“I can’t remember the first time I’ve drunk lemonade. I was probably two years old. It pains me…” She swallowed.

Reluctantly, he moved his hand from her to sign. “I’m here thanks to you. Do not feel sorry for me. I’m free now.”

Another bout of laughter from the crowd distracted him. The two actors were bowing to their audience, the walking stick on the ground.

A chill slithered down his neck as the scene of the beating flashed through his mind.

Yes, he was free, physically, but he was carrying his cage with him.