Shadows Fall Away (32 page)

“Your sister is right, Eugenia we can’t have him here,” Father said with an air of authority.

Mother and Jack were obviously in agreement on the matter. What could I do? “Fine.” I set down my cup and folded my hands in my lap.

“That Stewart boy is not permitted in this home,” Mother declared as she looked over the list. “And who on earth is Madeline O’Connell?”

I ground my teeth. “I’ve already had Mr. Stewart’s invitation delivered. I can’t very well renege now.”

Mother made a noise but went silent when Father raised an eyebrow to her. Curious.

“Mrs. O’Connell is a dear friend, likely the only one I have,” I said. “She’s a fine upstanding businesswoman.”

Jack reached over, patted my fisted hand. “Calm yourself, my dear.” He took a leisurely sip from his cup. “Perhaps it will be all right. The majority of the guest list is comprised of family, friends, and hospital colleagues. Eugenia should be allowed two guests of her own. I’m sure the tea woman will keep to her place and remain seen but not heard. And as for the Stewart chap, I’ll deal with him should he pose a problem.”

I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I wanted to scream and strangle them and not necessarily in that order.

Mark

A combination of Mrs. O’Connell’s awesome cooking and my ditching the stupid hospital split and bed rest routine did a lot to get things back to normal. Or as normal as they could be, considering the circumstances. The daily cold and damp kept the ankle pain steady but I managed to suck it up and hobble around enough to do some work at Gurov’s print shop. I thought it blew majorly that he hadn’t gotten a party invitation when Mrs. O. and I did but he didn’t seem too bent out over it. It just served to reinforce his socialist views on what was wrong with the “ruling elite” and the need to overthrow them.

It was pretty amusing to see Mrs. O’Connell get herself all hyped up over the party and what she was going to wear. She was quite the hustler, bartering baked goods and hot meals for dress fabrics and seamstress services to put together an outfit “grand enough for some toff fancy dress.”

Gorov paid me the night before the party and when he let me cut out a bit early to get rested up I decided to cruise by the market and see if I couldn’t pick Mrs. O’Connell some shiny hair pin or piece of costume jewelry, something like I’d seen the ladies at that hospital fundraiser wear.

The bright banners and secretive aura of Madam Zharova sucked me right over to her stall. And wouldn’t you know, she had a nice stash of jewelry on display. And I wondered if maybe she really was psychic. I glanced up at the rustle of curtains, which signaled her arrival from the back.

“The pieces are placing themselves upon the great chessboard. It is time.”

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that my trip into Tim Burton’s wildest dreams would include a visit to a whacked Wonderland. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Mrs. Trambley didn’t turn up in a red dress tonight and shout, “Off with his head!”

I looked at my pocket watch. “Actually, I have about three and a half hours left before I go to a party I don’t want to go to, so it’s not really time for the so-called fun to begin.”

The Gypsy grabbed my wrist. Damn. Talk about an iron grip. “Pay attention to everything. There are many pieces, many players. Miss one and you miss your chance.”

My chance. My chance to go home.

“Who do I have to watch? What do I have to do?”

“It’s not for me to know, not for me to tell.”

Shit. More vague doubletalk that could apply to anything and anyone. I broke away from her hold and pointed to a pin. “How much is this?”

Shaped something like a chrysanthemum, it had little blue rhinestones on silvery petal bits. It was kind of ugly to me but definitely looked like something a grandmother type would like.

Zharova gave me a twisted smile. “Interesting choice. I bought that just yesterday from a pretty young woman. Marie Jeannette.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. I don’t need a whole owner’s list, just the price.”

“Ten bob.”

“Half my pay, I don’t think so.” Was I really spazzing over what I’d consider fifty-cents back in my time?

“Five bob, then.”

It was like a quarter. A quarter was nothing. And yet here, a handful of quarters paid a month’s rent.

Great. I’d turned into my father.

I tossed the coins on the booth counter and waited while she wrapped the pin in a square of cloth.

Mrs. O’Connell had invited me to have an early supper with her and her friend Lucy, who was going to help her get ready for the big party later. It was kind of funny to see the always in charge Mrs. O. nervous and worried about making the right sort of impression at the Trambleys. She reminded me of my cousin the day she was going to the prom with a guy she’d been crushing on forever. I decided to hold off giving her the pin I bought until before we left. Kind of like a sparkly corsage.

It took me a couple tries to get my bowtie done right and I regretted picking up a new pair of shoes with my last pay. They were new-shoe tight and the pressure on my foot made my ankle sore. I hoped I’d be able to find a place to sit, preferably a nice dark corner where I wouldn’t have to watch Genie and Jackhole Palmer get all lovey-dovey.

Mrs. O’Connell opened the door when I knocked and I gave her a big bow. “Good evening, young lady. Is your mother home? I’m her escort for the evening.”

She gave my arm swat with the fan she had around her wrist and it reminded me of Agatha. “Oh you and your flattery.”

“No really, you look great.” And it was true. She looked really nice in her new dress. It was dark gray and while it didn’t have lots of fancy lace and pearls the way Genie and her sister’s had at the other party, but it had the same kind of tucks and pleats and the skirt draping my mom had gushed over when getting an advanced peek at the costumes for the film version of her book.

I reached into my pocket. “Something’s missing though.”

Mrs. O’Connell blanched and looked frantically to her friend. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I grinned. “You need some bling.” I took the pin out and unwrapped it. The ladies oohed and ahhed and insisted it must be real. “If it’s ‘previously owned merchandise of questionable origin’ I had nothing to do with it. I bought it in the market.”

The ladies rushed off to the bedroom to fuss in front of the mirror with the placement of the pin, and I excused myself to go down and rustle us up a cab. As I walked to the other street, I thought about Agatha again and Madam Z’s spiel about it being time. Being caught in that storm at a costume party got me here so maybe being at a party here might send me back. But if it did, what about the Ripper? If Palmer was him, where did that leave Genie? Was Palmer going to marry her and take her away from London? Would he continue killing? Would he hurt her, too?

***

I tried to get my mind off Genie as the hackney cab made its clip-cloppy way across town. As much as I wanted her to be safe I knew I had to keep my mind on the plan at hand. Catching the Ripper. Correction—catching Palmer. I focused on Mrs. O’Connell. I guess I’d never thought much about it but it was pretty obvious she didn’t get out much and certainly didn’t spend much time in the “better” part of London.

“You sure I look all right? I’m not going to embarrass myself, am I?”

“No way. You look great. In fact, you look a little like Queen Victoria herself with your hair done up that way and with the shiny combs tucked in there.”

“You an’ your flattering again.”

“I mean it.” I paused and wondered how to say what was on my mind. “You deserve a fancy night out. I hope you have a really good time, but the Trambleys and their friend…I haven’t spent a lot of time with them but—”

“Don’t you worry, young Mark. I was in service when I was girl. I know all about how the likes of them treat the likes of us.” She chuckled. “But that don’t mean I won’t be taking full advantage of their hospitality and fine champagne.”

I laughed. “You go, girl.”

From the mini traffic jam at the end of the Trambleys’ block you’d think we’d all gotten the memo to arrive at once. While we waited to make our way inside, I scoped out the other party-goers. Obviously I didn’t know them but I saw a few familiar faces—the top dog doctors from the hospital as well as some of the snooty ladies from that fundraiser. Once we got close enough to look inside I wondered if Sarah, the maid, had any elbows left. She’d sure expended a lot of elbow grease to make every brass and wooden things shine like it came straight from Buckingham Palace.

It appeared they rented another maid and a butler to man the door and take care of coats and hats. From what I saw, they’d cleared all big furniture out of the living room and dining room to open up the first floor for everyone to congregate. The garden door in the living room was opened out and they’d put up a tent like thing for a bit more space where a string quartet played some seriously dull polite party music. Mrs. O. and I followed the line as it veered across the hall to the dining room where the receiving line was.

Genie had been beautiful in the blue dress she’d worn to the fundraiser and tonight she looked like a princess. All smiles and dressed in silky pink with matching fabric flowers hugging her shoulders and circling the front to dip down towards her waist. She wore a black velvet choker with an oval cameo thing in the middle. Palmer was right there by her side, spending as much time looking down at the hint of her boobs as he was greeting the guests.

But when we got closer I realized Genie’s smile didn’t even come close to touching her eyes. It hadn’t been often but I’d seen her smile enough to know this was fake. She sure wasn’t bouncing off the walls with happiness the way my aunt did when she got engaged.

Palmer tried to look down on me but failed hard because of my height advantage. “How are you faring these days, Stewart? Not following doctor’s order and keeping that leg immobilized?”

“If the doctor’s orders were actually helpful I would have followed them. How’re things with you, Jacko? Still bullying disabled old men and nurses afraid of losing their jobs?”

I winked at Genie who bit her lip to keep from laughing.

She cleared her throat loudly, reached to shake my hand, and tugged me away, shifting to greet Mrs. O’Connell so I had to move down the line to her parents and sister.

Genie looked genuinely happy to see Mrs. O. The two of them were like typical BFFs who hadn’t talked to each other in days and had to play catch-up. It wasn’t much of a surprise that Genie’s family was less happy to have a “slum dweller” in their house.

“Mrs. O’Connell, that’s a rather lovely brooch you have.” Mrs. Trambley eyed the pin I’d bought.

“It was a gift from Mr. Stewart. Isn’t it ever so grand?”

Genie’s mother hit me with a stare of doom then turned back. “I had one similar once.” She grabbed Dr. Trambley’s arm with her free hand and from his quick wince she must have been putting a death grip on his arm. “Doesn’t that look like my old brooch, Cornelius?”

Mrs. O. gave me a worried look.

“I bought that today, in the market. It’s just costume jewelry.”

The doctor pried his wife’s fingers from his arm and smiled. “It’s vaguely similar, dear, but clearly not the same. Please do enjoy yourselves.”

Mrs. O’Connell smiled and ushered us into the hall. “You sure you didn’t nick this when you stayed here?”

“No! And if I had I’m not dumb enough to make sure they’d see it.”

She relaxed. “Eugenia did say her poor mum’s nerves were frayed and I imagine plannin’ all this would set anyone on edge.”

People who’d overheard the weird exchange gave us suspicious looks but once everyone started liquoring up they ignored us. Mrs. O’Connell relaxed, too and the party got going. I even managed to play good little escort boy and muddled my way through two waltzes on the wooden dance floor in the garden tent.

Mrs. O. caught site of Sarah a bit after and ended up following the maid back down to the kitchen. I guess she liked her comfort zone and would probably spend a nice long time down there helping out and being with her “own kind” where she didn’t feel self-conscious.

I found myself a quiet corner chair I hoped for and snagged a glass of champagne before planting my butt for the duration. My ankle ached like a bitch and I really wanted to put it up but there weren’t many options for that. I kept an eye peeled for Genie and caught sight of her a few times. She was still all smiles but when she passed close enough I saw the happiness still didn’t touch her eyes, not like it had when she talked to Mrs. O.

I wanted to grab her and give her a shake and ask why she was doing this to herself. She was better than this. She deserved a hell of a lot better than some scumbag who was most likely a serial killer.

Of course in this time and place a girl like Genie didn’t have many choices. Her parents would let her be a nurse, but they sure weren’t going to let her have any career beyond being a wife and mother. Who the hell was I to interfere, especially since I wouldn’t here much longer?

Tossing back the rest of the champagne, I gave the glass to a passing maid and leaned my head back against the wall and tried not to think about the nagging ache in my leg.

“Are you all right, Mark?”

Genie was there, leaning down, unbuttoning her glove and pulling her hand free enough to check my forehead.

“I’m good, sore from spinning Mrs. O. around the dance floor.”

“If you’re sure, but I can get Father or Jack—”

“I don’t need Jack. Speaking of that, I guess you and I are back to first names? You called me Mark just now.”

She straightened and adjusted her glove. “Clearly the champagne has gone to my head. Do forgive me, Mr. Stewart.”

I stood. “I wasn’t complaining. Not at all.”

She grinned, the amusement making her pretty eyes sparkle in the gaslight. “You look beautiful tonight, Genie.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. You look quite dashing yourself.”

“Only the best for you.”

She blushed deeper and looked down to the floor. I took hold her hand and she held mine back. Her grip was tight like she was reaching for a lifeline. “Why are you doing this, Genie, why him? He’s not good enough for you.”