How Do I Love Thee? (14 page)

A heavy knock on the front door sped up the stairs to my ears. I held my breath. Was it the thieves?

I heard a voice in the foyer.

I motioned Crow close, wanting her to help me up. Together we hurried to the landing to listen.

“Give him back to us,” Alfred said to the visitor.

“Well, you see, I can’t do that,” a man said. “I woulda worked with you, but since you had the cheek to post bills, advertising the . . . the situation . . . I just don’t know.”

“You expected us to stand by and—”

It was my idea to display the flyers. If my action hurt Flush . . .

“Well, perhaps we can come to some sort of arrangement.”

“How much?” Alfred asked.

“Five guineas should do it.”

“I don’t have it.”

“But I am sure somebody in this grand house does.”

Suddenly, I heard my father’s voice. “Sir, you are a rascal. I should not give you any money for your crime, but will give you two guineas. If you do not accept my terms, then you shall be given into the charge of the police.”

“Well, sir, then I bid you adieu. And you can bid your dog adieu too.”

“Out!” Papa said. “Get out of this house!”

I heard the door slam shut and would have hurled myself down the stairs if I’d been able. “They can’t let him go,” I said to Crow. “They can’t!”

From below I heard my father’s voice, muffled by his proximity in the dining room. “Do not tell your sister of this. We should not upset her.”

I stepped back in my room and leaned against the door. “Not upset me? As if the thievery itself was not cause for upset enough?”

Crow tried to lead me to my bed, but I remained firm. “Help me downstairs. I must make them pay the money.”

“You can’t do that,” Crow said. “You know you can’t. Your father . . .”

She was right. If I were to burst into the dining room and demand my father make the ridiculous payment . . . All that I was, all that I tried so hard to be, would be lost.

I let Crow get me back to bed. “What am I to do?” I asked her.

“I don’t know, miss. But we’ll think of something.”

I thought of something. The idea came to me in the middle of the night, interrupting my fitful sleep.

I would get Papa to pay the two guineas that he had offered, and unbeknownst to him, I would pay the other three out of my own pocket. If I was careful, he would never find out. I would send one of my brothers to do the deed, and by the time Papa got home from work Flush would be returned and all would be right with the world.

Henry would be the best one to ask. He was accustomed to taking risks and was known to rebel against Papa. He would probably find satisfaction in the subterfuge.

It was hard for me to not wake Henry in the midnight and tell him of my plan. I forced myself to wait until the dawn began its ascent and I heard movement in the house.

I quietly summoned Crow, for no one ever expected me to be up before noon. She was surprised by my call, and I caught her in her nightdress. “Miss?”

“Go summon Henry. Ask him to come here. Quietly.”

Her face asked why, but she did not wait for an answer.

I pulled my dressing gown about me and sat in a chair to wait for him.

He came to the door, buttoning his shirt, his hair disheveled. “What is it, Ba? I was asleep and have no reason to wake so early—”

I motioned him close with the crook of a finger. “I have a proposition for you,” I said. “It involves much danger and intrigue.” Some danger and some intrigue.

His face lost its sleepy softness and gained an awakened edge. “What is it?”

I told him my plan and he nodded his approval. “You surprise me, Ba.”

“I surprise me too,” I said. “Let’s just say my despair has overcome my sense of obedience.”

“I applaud the cause and hope it is the first of many acts of courage to come.”

“It is my only act,” I said, “and it is accomplished for the sake of poor Flush, who is probably suffering horribly at the hands of those hooligans.” I motioned him away. “Now go. You must ask Papa for his two guineas before he leaves for work.”

Once he had gone, Crow asked, “Do you think it will work?”

“It has to.”

I could not read. I could not write letters. I could not sleep. My ears were those of a deer in the forest, keen to all sound.

Although Crow and my sisters had tried to lure me downstairs to be closer for Henry’s return from the dog thief, I could not bring myself to do it. Now, above all other times, I needed the comfort of my room.

And yet, all around me were reminders of my Flush. His pillow on the floor, placed where it could be warmed by the sun for his afternoon nap. His bowl of water near the fireplace, his favourite knotted stocking that he loved to play tug with, and a bone from the beef roast that had been enjoyed by all the evening before he was taken.

He is just a dog.

I shook such traitorous thoughts away. Although they toyed with logic, they also toyed with my very soul. Flush was more than a dog to me, he was
mine
. In this household, in the midst of this family, we belonged to each other, and loved each other unconditionally, ignoring our imperfections as inconsequential, and taking our strengths and attributes to a higher level simply
because
.

I had heard Henrietta whisper to Arabel, “If this does not turn out . . . we
will
get her another dog,” and it had taken all my self-restraint not to verbally attack her cold illogic. How I wished to march to her chair, stand over her, and say, “Could
you
be replaced with another woman off the street? Could Arabel? Could I?” But I did not say the words aloud. I knew my love for Flush was unique. That my sister did not know such a love was her loss.

I looked at the mantel clock. Henry had been gone over three hours, and Papa would be home from work any minute. I didn’t want to have to explain—

I heard the front door open and held my breath, waiting to hear Papa’s usual “I’m home, family” or Henry—

The sound of feet scampering up the stairs pulled me out of my bed as though yanked by a leash. Flush ran into my skirts and I knelt down to take him into my arms. He licked my face, and I buried my nose into his fur. Henry and my sisters found us very much in celebration-which I left in order to embrace my brother.

“How can I ever thank you?”

He put a hand on the cheek that I had kissed-too seldom. “You can take care to not let it happen again, for next time I will not go after him.”

All entered my room and sat. Without any prodding Flush jumped upon my lap and snuggled on the cushion of my skirt. “Was it so horrible?” I asked.

“I never want to venture into such a neighbourhood again. I, who like adventure, have hereby realized there is a limit.” He shuddered. “The conditions those people live in, the filth. The atmosphere of ever-present danger.”

I pulled Flush’s head to my chest. “I cannot abide the thought of the horrors my Flush has experienced these past two days.”

“He seems well enough,” Henrietta said.

Arabel wrinkled her nose. “Though he is a bit more . . . fragrant.”

I allowed myself to inhale the scent of him. She was right. I had been so enraptured with his return, I had not noticed. I looked for Crow and saw the edge of her skirt as she slunk into the hall, out of sight.

“Crow?” I asked.

She stepped into the doorway with a sigh. “A bath for Prince Flush, yes, yes, I’ll see to it. Come, boy.”

Although I hated to let him out of my sight, I let him go.

“The thief did not ask for more than the two guineas?” Henrietta asked.

I gave Henry a quick glance. We had decided not to share the details of our arrangement to lessen the chance that Papa—

We all heard the front door open once more. “I’m home, fam—” Then, “Well, well, young Flush. Glad to have you home.”

“He’s going to be washed, Mr. Barrett,” Crow said.

“Ah. So. Fresh and new.”

Henrietta and Arabel went down to greet him as he ascended the stairs.

“Ah, daughters. I see Flush has returned. So the ransom was paid?”

I held my breath. Henrietta answered. “Two sovereigns, I believe— but I really know very little about it.”

“Hmm,” Papa said. “Two sovereigns and I dare say three besides.”

Henry and I gasped and looked one to the other. “He knows?” I whispered.

Henry held up a hand, proclaiming his innocence. “I said nothing. He can’t know.”

But he could. Papa knew everything.

When I heard his feet upon the final stairs, my entire body tightened. He would chastise me for going against his wishes, for ignoring his proclamation to the thief that we would pay no more than two guineas. I had never, ever knowingly disobeyed him. That I had done such a thing
and
asked my brother to conspire with me was a horrible offence against everything I held dear between us.

And yet . . . because of my action, Flush was returned. Surely that counted for something.

As Papa gained the last few steps, I steeled myself towards that defence. Yes, I was sorry for taking matters into my own hands, but surely he could understand the importance of the risk and celebrate with me the happy result.

As soon as he entered the opened door, his eyes scanned the room. “Henry.”

“Father.” Henry stood. “If you’ll excuse me?”

As Henry passed, Papa put a hand upon his arm. “Do we have you to thank for Flush’s return?”

He cast a furtive glance over Papa’s shoulder towards me. Then he met our father’s eyes. “Yes.”

There was a moment between them, a precarious slice of time perched upon a fence post, wavering left, then right . . .

Finally Papa nodded once, clapped Henry on the arm, and said, “Well done.”

Henry wisely did not wait for more but escaped down the stairs in double time.

Papa turned his eyes upon me. Would I receive the same grace? Or would he ask about the source of the extra “three besides,” which could only have come from me?

He approached the foot of the sofa and I moved my legs to the side to allow him space to sit. He put a hand upon my knee and I held my breath.

But then . . . he smiled. “You have had a hard few days, my dear puss.”

He had not called me that in years. It was a childhood endearment that was mine alone.

I managed a nod, a hand upon his, and a weak smile. “But now all is well.”

“All turned out well,” he said. “Somehow.” There was an extra emphasis on the last word that told me he knew, he
knew. . . .

But before I could react, could fall into his arms with weeping apologies, he stood to leave. “I must change. It has been a long day. I will be up later for our prayers.” He paused at the door and gave me a pointed look. “We must come before God and confess our transgressions and thank Him for His mercies.”

Indeed.

S
IX

I heard a disturbance above, from the roof. Sette? Screaming?

I remembered seeing my brother and his fencing tutor traversing past my room to the open space of the roof to go practice—

Fencing.

Swords.

The scream gained horrific meaning.

I tossed my writing aside, jumped from the sofa, ran into the hallway towards the small door leading—