His Black Wings (4 page)

Poor girl, this was hard on her as well. I had had no choice though. I couldn’t leave her back there so they could put her to sleep. Who am I kidding? Kurten would’ve wanted her shot. He probably would have done it himself. I trembled as my thoughts began to drift back to the cause of her injury and back to Kurten. I knew if he was awake, he was telling them to bring me back. Not so he could see me and ask me why, but so he could humiliate me, hurt me. He knew I still had my parent’s house to deal with since it was in the Private Sector.            The officials could not seize the property because it was paid off. Owned now, by a criminal but still mine. Kurten knew I would be back or at least in contact with my solicitor. I mentally paced. Could I walk away from any monies and my home? How would I survive to support myself and my Naza? Going back though would be facing a trial, and the fact that I left would look bad. That would not matter though since I would not have received a fair trial to begin with. No, the price of my freedom would be giving up my fortune and home.

Sunlight and the smell of biscuits woke me up. I had been dreaming of my mother. Her yellow hair was wound up in a bun with soft tendrils hugging her face. I thought my mother beautiful with her pale skin and dark blue eyes. I on the other hand took after my father, with my brown hair and dark eyes. She was standing in the kitchen instructing me to put a pinch of this, a dash of that, in a cake I was baking. Her own cake she was removing from the oven. I was aware that I was crying as I was adding the recommended ingredients. She suddenly stood upright and came over to me.

“I’m sorry dear, we did not know what we were doing. We should have paid more attention to you.”

I was crying freely now and reaching out for my mother but a table separated us and I did not think to walk around it. (You know how dreams are.)

“Mother! What am I going to do without you, without Father? I have never worked before; I have never been alone before. I m scared!”

“I’m sorry dear, I’m sorry dear.”

She repeated it over and over like a broken record until I woke up, crying. My pillow was wet with tears and Naza stared at me sadly as if she had had the same dream.

I closed my eyes against the bright sun, wanting to blot it out. I could only cry in my sleep. It was too dangerous to let myself grieve for my parents now. I felt that if I let myself feel the pain, that somehow Kurten would find me. I was paranoid and jumpy; each sound that Naza made in her sleep would cause me to shake. I had to be strong, and right now that meant not grieving for my beloved parents. I had to stay focused.

“Blacken your eyes I will!”

“Not before I bloody your nose!”

Young voices came from outside. Children were squabbling over a game of marbles. I decided it was time to get up.

“Well, Naza girl, how do I look?” She wagged her tail in approval. I had washed and dressed and did not have a looking glass to check my appearance. I wore a long, light beige skirt with a suit jacket that came to my hips and then flowered out. Very Victorian looking, I thought. My hair was up in a bun in a similar Victorian fashion that was popular. I hadn’t packed a parasol even though I had one. I hadn’t brought any makeup either.

Oh well this would have to do
.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon, you be a good girl and don’t bark.” I shut the door lightly behind me and went downstairs.

No one was about and the rooms were cool. Autumn was in the air. I had copied the address onto a small scrap of paper and held it up when I got outside. Small children played by the well. I went up to one, smiling.

“Excuse me, can you tell me where this is?” A thin, little boy snatched the paper out of my hand and held it up to his nose.

“Fer a coin I cain.” A slightly older boy grabbed the paper from him and hissed.

“Eh now! Ain’t no way to be to a lady, an Grans payin’ guest and all.” The smaller boy retreated in silence, head down.

“Sorry, Miss. The address will be that way,” he said pointing over my shoulder, “make a left there and walk down two blocks. You’ll see a market. The next street is the one you’ll be wanting.” He handed my paper back solemnly.

“Thank you, very much.” He turned away to join his little friend when I called out to him.

“What did you say your name was?” He didn’t even turn back around.

“I didn’t.”

His answer surprised me. I wasn’t used to such ill mannered children. I took another look around at the boarding house, the clothes the children were wearing and the fact that they were playing with little sticks and glass beads. The older one had called the inn keeper
Gran
. They should’ve been in school. I guessed that their grandmother was too poor to send them. My heart gave a little twinge of sadness for these children as I turned and left.

I quickly found the market the young boy spoke of. Sac Larue was right after it, as the boy had said. I quickly found the address. The address was an old brownstone that was in better condition than the others. I still could not understand the ad completely, the two different addresses, the time. Well, I guess the time was not such an issue. Perhaps Mr. Brighton has day engagements. I checked my watch. It was still very early. That would never do. I didn’t want him to come home and find me on his doorstep. I walked down the street and browsed the shop windows. When I had wasted enough time window shopping I walked to the market and browsed the magazine rack. The store keeper began to look at me strangely so I went down the aisle to avoid his gaze. I spied boxes and boxes of candy. My teeth hurt just looking at it all. A picture of the two boys back at the boarding house formed in my mind. By the time I had picked out some candy for them, it was time to go. I made my purchase and walked down to the house.

The sunlight was a misty pink and quickly fading-. The chill from the oncoming night caressed my face. I walked up the steps of the old brownstone and knocked. I was nervous and the demon of low self esteem reared it’s ugly head. What qualifications did I have? I had never had a job before. But I did take all the required courses for graduation. I knew how to read and write, I knew how to go to the post office. Several minutes passed before I decided to knock again. On the second knock the door opened slowly.

There stood a tall man in his late fifties. Black hair, graying at the temples. He wore dark trousers and a smoking jacket. He had full red lips that you almost missed because of his thick,black moustache. Light blue eyes the very color of ice, peered at me in an amused expression. He was without a doubt, very handsome.

“Did you actually expect someone to answer such a little knock?” He asked me. He held his body in between the door jam and the door, so no one could peer into his dwelling. He was a lot taller than I and his piercing gaze immediately made me feel uncomfortable.

“I thought it was a little bird pecking at my window.” He smiled and straightened his spine making himself even taller. He had a solid form underneath that smoking jacket.

“Good evening Sir. My name is Lilly Cardindale. I read your ad in the paper?” I posed it as a question hoping he would tell me it was filled and send me on my way. He glanced quickly behind me, out into the street then from one end to the other.

“Lily? My ad? Oh yes, the ad. Come in.” My heart shifted in its seat not knowing what to feel. My hands were clammy and I only prayed he wouldn’t want to shake them.

“Are you Mr. Brighton?” I asked as he led me down the hall and into a sitting room that already had a fire going. Two comfortable looking chairs were set as to watch the fire. There was a small end table set with a reading lamp, book and glass of brandy. I somehow got the distinct feeling that he had seen me when I first arrived. He had stood, just beyond the window with that very glass of brandy in his hand looking down at me. He knew why I was here and he knew I would be back. Little bird knocking indeed! He waved his arm to the empty chair indicating I should sit.

“Please, sit down and let us talk of your needs and my own.”

The fire light danced around the room filling it with shadows. I sat a short distance away from his chair, my hands folded in my lap. I did not even have the good sense to pack my gloves. My hands felt naked. What was I thinking, I barely escaped with my life. How could I even think about packing gloves?

He hadn’t said a word as he filled his pipe with tobacco. He placed the pipe up to his mouth, and then looked at me.

“Do you mind?” He said, raising his pipe slightly with that same amused smile on his face.

“No, not at all.” Pipe smoke reminded me of my father. Soon the air between us was scented with vanilla.

“May I offer you something to drink?” He said studying me closely.

“No thank you.” He nodded and held my gaze.

“What about my ad appeals to you Miss?”

I had thought his first interview question would be more along the lines of schools I’ve attended or previous work experience.

“Everything appealed to me Sir.”

“Please, call me Fredrick.” I only nodded as he reached out his hand to mine to shake it. His hand was warm and strong, mine was weak and clammy.

“And you are?” He asked even though I had already told him my fake name that I had been using since the second week on the run.

“Lilly Cardindale.” He puffed on his pipe and raised his eyebrows.

He repeated the name slowly watching my reaction.

“So that is the name you go by is it? No middle name? No other family name?” I could feel the heat rising to my face. I hated lying and never did, but this was the exception. I looked down at my folded hands, silently asking God to forgive me for my lie.

“No Sir.” I said still looking down. I could feel him studying me intently. Time seemed to stop until finally he spoke.

“So everything appealed to you did it?” I nodded again.

“I require someone to handle my correspondence, pick it up every day and run a few errands now and again. Other than that, your time is your own. I do however, keep late hours and would usually need your assistance from six pm to nine, say, every Friday?” He was looking at me for the answer. I only nodded my head not believing so far. Was he saying he actually only needed me for a few hours each Friday? Why would that merit someone moving in I wondered.

“I also travel from time to time between my house here and in the country. You would of course travel with me. Is this a problem?” He was speaking like I had already won the position.

“No, not at…” I stopped mid sentence. Naza! How could I forget my precious animal that saved me in one of life’s worst moments?

“What is it?” He asked in a gruff way.
Well
I thought,
this would be a deciding factor for him.
If he didn’t want Naza, he didn’t want me
.

“I have a pet, she is like family to me.” There. I said it, the ball was in his court. He continued to look at me and then smiled.

“A pet you say? What kind of pet?” He asked.

“A dog, a wolfhound Sir. She is rather large. Right now I am nursing her, her forepaw is healing.” He seemed pleased.

“A wolf hound you say? What happened to her?” Kurten flashed through my head, I looked down.

“An accident…” was all I could say. He seemed to bristle if that is the right word to use to describe it.

“She is healing now though.” I repeated.

“Good. Yes, Naza may stay wherever you stay if you wish it.” I looked up sharply.

Had
I mentioned my dog’s name?

He ignored my startled look.

“She will be even happier in the countryside where there are rabbits for her to chase. Now is there anything else holding you back from this position
, Lilly Cardindale
? Family, friends
, fiancée
?”

He placed stress on the name I was to use. I looked down at my hands remembering the funeral, my house, Kurten, and realized how alone I was.

“Nothing.” I whispered.

For the first time since the funeral, my eyes misted over and a lump in my throat prevented me from saying anything further.

He went on pretending not to notice, even though I am positive he did. He seemed to me, more than a man. I sensed a wisdom, a knowledge of things I did not know existed. Yet I sensed he had his own sadness as well. I was self conscious of every word I spoke, every movement I made. I felt as though I was being sized up, weighed and measured, yet I did not feel as though he was interested in me, as say, perhaps Kurten was interested in me.