Of Monsters and Madness (11 page)

“Hmmmm? Are those your plans for the day? A trip to the market?”

He carries his plate to the table and I follow with my own, even though all I’ve taken is a small piece of toasted bread. “Cook has need of licorice root.”

“Then you’ll need some money.” He catches sight of Maddy near the dining room door and motions
her over. She offers him a deep curtsy and awaits his instruction with her eyes cast down. “Have Cook double whatever she usually spends for the week,” he says, “and see that the difference is given to my daughter.”

Maddy bobs her head and then disappears into the kitchen.

My heart is filled with overwhelming happiness.
I would gladly suffer through a thousand lessons with Mrs. Tusk if it continues to please him
. “Thank you, Father. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s my duty to provide for my daughter. Of course you should have spending money. How else are you to purchase what you need?”

I feel foolish and look down at my plate. “I … guess I hadn’t given it very much thought.” Mother and I did not have to worry about money in the village. Trades and barters were how we paid our debts.

“These are the things you must learn now that you’re in Philadelphia.” He lifts his fork, but pauses. “While you’re at the market, be sure to stop by the butcher’s shop. They have excellent mincemeat pies.”

“Why don’t you place an order for two pies, Annabel, and then perhaps you and your father can enjoy them during tea this afternoon?” Grand-père suggests.

I smile at him and he gives me a brief wink. “Shall I get one for you too, Grand-père? Will you join us?”

“I’m afraid mincemeat pie is something I can no longer tolerate, my dear. But I’m sure you shall enjoy it. It’s a treat not to be missed.”

“Yes, yes, that sounds fine.” Father stands and looks down at his watch. “Three o’clock it shall be, then.”

I feel as light as a feather as he leaves the dining room. My toast has grown cold, but I’m no longer hungry. For the first time since I left Siam, I’m finally being embraced by the family I came so far to see. “Father and I are going to have tea together!” I say excitedly to Grand-père.

He chuckles. “I told you he was happy to have you here. It’s good to see your enthusiasm return as well.”

Impulsively, I stand and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for making the suggestion.” He pats the back of my hand, and then I go to the kitchen to tell Maddy of my good fortune. As soon as I enter the room, she holds something out to me.

“Here’s yer money, miss.”

I stare down at the banknotes in her hand. “What am I to do with it?”

“In yer armoire hangs a cloak with a pocket. It’s
nothin’ fancy, but it will do. Put the money in there to bring with you.”

I nod and take the money. “Will you help me? So I don’t spend too much? I don’t want Father to think that I’m careless with what he has given me.”

“Of course, miss.” She grins at my excitement. “But the first step is yer cloak.”

“You’re right. I’ll be back in a moment.”

I return to my room and find a dark green cloak hanging in the armoire just as Maddy said. I carefully place the money inside the pocket, humming softly as I pull the cloak on and readjust my scarf. I can hardly believe how much Father’s opinion of me has changed. Mother would be so happy.

With my thoughts on the memory of her, I cross over to the bed and pull out the zodiac book to place inside the cloak pocket. I shall carry her with me today.

When I return downstairs, Maddy is waiting by the front door. “Would you like to walk to the market?” she says. “It’s not far, but I can have Jasper fetch the carriage if you prefer.”

“Let’s walk. I’d love some fresh air.”

Maddy starts to wrinkle her nose but catches
herself. “Breathe it in by the house, miss. When we get to the market, it won’t be so fresh.”

I laugh and hook my arm through hers as if we are sisters. “I shall heed your advice, Maddy.”

She glances down shyly and gives me another crooked grin. “Off we go, then.”

We step outside and she leads me past rows of grand houses that look very much like Father’s. Each one is connected with a private courtyard and a set of alleyways. Tall and majestic, they appear to touch the very sky, with carved details that rival what I’d always imagined castles to look like.

“Do you ever feel lost, Maddy? I don’t think I’d ever be able to find my way back to Father’s house without you. There are so many houses.”

“I know these streets well. I was born near here. On the other side of town, of course. Nothing so grand as this. Just a tiny flat that I shared with my brothers an’ sisters. I won’t let you get lost, miss.”

“You have siblings?”

She nods proudly. “I was the oldest. I have three brothers an’ two sisters. They’re all gone into service, just like me.”

“I’ve always wanted to have brothers and sisters,” I
say wistfully. “I’m sure that your mother is very proud of you.”

“She was. But that was before—”

“Before? Have you lost your mother as well?”

“Not in the same way as you have, miss. Here we are now.” She points to our left. “The market is just over there.”

Maddy was right about it smelling crisp and clean by the house. Here by the marketplace, the scent of rotten fruit and spoiling meat is enough to make me choke. A river of muddy water flows down a shallow trench in front of us and I nudge her arm and then wrinkle my nose. She laughs.

A buzz of voices fills the air as we draw closer. Tents crowd in, one on top of the other, and vendors shout to be heard. I look around me to take it all in. Baskets and crates and long wooden shelves display their colorful wares, and although the people and the goods they have to sell look different from those in Siam, it reminds me very much of the market there. It reminds me of home.

Maddy steers me toward a yellow building and points to a symbol on a door. She explains that it represents an apothecary, and we go inside. The room is
filled with large glass cases that hold colored bottles of all sizes. Maddy steps up to the counter and introduces me to the shopkeeper, Mr. Williams.

“Ah, yes,” he says, “you are Dr. Lee’s daughter?”

I blush. It still sounds so strange to hear Father’s name. “I am.”

“Welcome to Philadelphia, Miss Lee.” He bobs his head. “May you make many wonderful memories here.”

I thank him for his kindness, and Maddy asks for some licorice root and cinnamon. As he fills her order, I glance over at the shelf closest to us. I’m startled by the flesh-colored fingerlike tubes of a plant from Siam. “Excuse me,” I say, “is that
khing
?”

The shopkeeper gives me a shrewd look. “You are familiar with the regional name?”

“Yes. I lived in Siam for many years.”

“How interesting. It came in with our last shipment. It’s called ginger here.”

“How much would one piece cost?”

He looks in his ledger and then quotes me a price that is as much as Maddy is paying for the cinnamon and licorice root combined.

“Is that a fair price?” I whisper to her.

“I don’t know, miss,” she whispers back. “What’s it used fer?”

“Fresh
kh
—ginger is used in tea, lentil dishes, soups, pastes.… It’s very good for the digestion. Mother and I used it every day in Siam.” At her nod, I say, “I shall take it, along with some rosewater and lemon juice, please.” I withdraw the money Father gave to me and she shows me how much to hand over.

“We usually get a small assortment of herbs and flowers from Siam in our shipments,” the shopkeeper tells me as he prepares two small packages. “You’re quite welcome to come back.”

“Thank you. I shall remember that for next time.” Instead of curtsying, I bow to him. He returns the gesture.

On our way out of the apothecary, I ask Maddy if we can visit the butcher’s shop next to order the mincemeat pies for Father. She agrees, and as we walk, we come upon a stand selling lace handkerchiefs. They are very beautiful, and the quality of workmanship is exceedingly fine. Maddy cannot tear her gaze away.

“Would you like to stop to look?” I suggest. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, no, miss. Best not to stop an’ want what I can’t have.”

The butcher’s tent is not far from the handkerchief stand. His name is Mr. Higgins, and after introductions are made, I place my order for two pies. He asks about Maddy’s brothers and sisters, and as soon as they are caught up in conversation, I slip away to return to the handkerchief vendor. Purchasing the handkerchief Maddy admired will be the perfect way to express my gratitude for her kindness in telling Madame LaFleur that I could not remove my scarf during my wardrobe fitting.

Choosing the one that caught Maddy’s eye, I ask for her initials to be embroidered on it. The handkerchief vendor gives me a strange look when I tell her my name, but then she says that I may return tomorrow to pick it up. I hand her some money and then find my way back to the butcher’s tent. He and Maddy are talking in low, urgent tones and she gestures wildly with her hands.

“There you are, miss,” Maddy says. Her eyes are large and scared, and her face has grown pale. “I didn’t know where you had gone. It’s not safe to wander.”

“Forgive me. I thought I would be gone for only a moment. Is something wrong?”

A sudden commotion comes from the tent next to us and a woman leans in to whisper to another woman, who cries out, and then covers her mouth with her hand in shock. She pulls the child beside her close to her skirts. My stomach twists into a knot. “What is it, Maddy? What’s happened?”

She shakes her head. “We just heard.… There’s been another murder.”

Ten

W
ord of the murder passes quickly through the marketplace, and the mood turns somber. Maddy confers with the butcher again and then passes me the pies wrapped in newspaper. Our return to Father’s house is not as leisurely as our original walk to the market.

I try to keep my anxious thoughts to myself as we hurry back. I don’t want to frighten Maddy with my tumultuous feelings. But finally, I ask her the one thing I must know. “We shall be safe at Father’s house, right? You
did
say it was not very close to Rittenhouse
Square, and since that’s where the murders have been happening—”

“It didn’t happen at the square, miss. It happened in the marketplace. Sometime last night.”

“At the marketplace?”

She nods and fear courses through me. I glance down at the meat pies in my hand. Even the happy thought of having tea with Father cannot chase away my worry.

“They say the victim was Mr. Durham,” she continues. “He used to stop by the house. He knew yer father.”

I don’t know what to say, so I merely nod my head. “I shall have to offer Father my condolences.”

We walk the rest of the way to the house without another word, and I follow Maddy into the kitchen. Cook takes the mincemeat pies from me and puts them in the larder while I examine Johanna’s wound again. It has become infected, as I feared it would. I place a warm compress on it to draw out the inflammation while I make the stinging nettle and licorice root salve. When the salve is ready, I apply a thick covering to the wound and put on a fresh dressing.