Shadows Falling: The Lost #2 (19 page)

Groaning, I rub my temples again. I hardly feel like a party, yet here it is: the day of Mina
’s masquerade ball.
I should be giddy as a schoolgirl, but I’m not looking forward to it at all. Sam hasn’t been around since our dinner together, so I wasn’t able to ask him to accompany me (though I most likely would have choked anyway, so no harm done, I suppose), I still don’t have anything to wear unless Mina has conjured up something like my fairy godmother would have, and my head hurts. Plus, Nora has been ignoring me again,
as though we never bonded over Pride and Prejudice at all, and Mr. Limpet has really gone off the deep end somehow. He’s gotten positively bizarre in his behavior, trying to escape the hospital in his creaky chair, and acting frightened of everything. I overheard him whispering frantically to Mack, “She’s here. She’s here. Didn’t you see her?” and it was just the saddest thing. No one knows what he’s talking about, though we do have some new patients. He just blathers on. He finally had to be sedated, and now he drools more than ever and doesn’t seem to know anyone. I even long for him to ask me to dance, though the idea used to fill me with shivers, and I typically found an excuse to decline.  Now I’d happily waltz around the hospital with his creaky old wheelchair if he’d just be himself again.

Miss Helmes had sent me home early today, probably because it was one of those days where nothing seems to go right. When those days come, she gets extremely independent and wants to do everything by herself. We all just get in her way. Mack walked wide circles around her, and I avoided her as much as possible. The new crew (who isn
’t very new anymore and is considerably less shiny and polished and much more haggard looking) learned their lessons, one at a time, mostly for trying to be helpful and anticipating what she might want from them, and she sent a few of them home early as well.

Still groaning dramatically about my poor head, I trudge down the stairs of my flat. There
’s a telephone on the wall downstairs, and I may as well call Mina and tell her I won’t be coming. Well, call Danvers, actually. Mrs. Dobson finds the phone vulgar and only the servants are allowed to use it.

Just my luck, a girl from my building is on it already, and as she has entangled herself in the cord, twirling a section, and giggling, it looks as though it may be a while. My groaning intensifies, which will probably only make the throbbing in my cranium intensify, too. This girl, Marianne, can really talk; I know from experience. Once, she nearly chattered me into an early grave, going on and on about gossip at her employment, a department store. I do envy a little bit her job; she spritzes perfume on patrons as they walk by. I suppose it
’d only be fun the first few dozen times though. After that, I’d be longing for wall scrubbing. She constantly smells like a bottle of perfume, which is probably lovely in smaller quantities, and I try to breathe through my mouth.  Her twin brother, Arthur, lives with her, and the poor man smells like a woman drowning in gardenias.

“
Marianne.” I tap her shoulder. She turns and mouths a cheerful hello at me. “Are you going to be a while?” I inquire politely.

Marianne taps the phone, ever jolly, as if I couldn
’t see she is on the phone. Groan.

“
Are you near the end of your conversation?” I persist, a bit louder this time.

She giggled again into the mouthpiece.
“Hold on, sugar,” she says, and then tells me. “It’s my soldier boy. You know, the American.”

“
Mmm hmm. Should I come back later then?”

“
No, no, honey. I’ll only be a minute! Soldier Boy is going to get me an audition with the Roxyettes!” Marianne trades the phone cord for a lock of her gorgeous hair and twirls that instead for a bit. She begins telling Soldier Boy about several things that happened at work today, including what she bought with her paycheck, which seems to be an overabundance of lacey underpants.

Giving up, I walk the short distance to the front doors and go outside. Maybe the air will clear my head. I smell something delicious waft by my nose, probably from the diner across the street, and my stomach rumbles. What I wouldn
’t give for a steak dinner right about now! Suddenly, the scrambled eggs I had planned for dinner sound about as appetizing as boiled eels. Maybe I should go to Mina’s party… There’s bound to be some enticing fare there to sample. Would it be rude to only go for the refreshments and then scamper home to an early bed?

Deep in thought, it takes me a moment to recognize the Rolls Royce Phantom. Stupefied, I simply stand and stare for a moment. Whatever is he doing here? I
’d recognize that lovely car anywhere as well as the silhouette of the man inside. I march over and rap on the window. After a moment’s hesitation, it is lowered, and I see Sam’s sheepish expression.

“
Whatever is going on?” I demand. “What are you doing here?”

“
Nothing. That is, I happened to be nearby.”

“
You did not. Whatever do you think you’re doing? How did you know where I live?” My inner suspicions were dead on. Sam isn’t as trustworthy as my heart had insisted. I could be flattered at his attention (Marianne probably would be), but instead I’m put off. The only way he could know my residence is if he had been cavorting with Miss Helmes or if he’d been following me. Either scenario is sinister, if you ask me. Plus, I can’t imagine Miss Helmes giving out my address; she’s very close mouthed, and she certainly wouldn’t find it proper. Though, now that I think on it, the two of them had seemed as though they knew one another. I remember back to the first day I met Sam. What had Miss Helmes said?
Mr. Connelly says a lot of things.
I hadn’t noticed then, but it seems a tad cryptic now. Still. I don’t think she’d give him my address, which only leaves the other answer: he’s followed me home. I swallow my fear. I read the newspapers. I see bad things at the hospital. I know what happens when poor, young women get in over their head with dangerous men.

“
You have two minutes to explain yourself, Mr. Connelly,” I say, coldly, going back to the use of his surname. Why had I ever treated him so intimately? I could kick myself. “And then I’m going back in and dialing Scotland Yard.”

“
Hold on. Hold on, Lizzie.” Sam holds up his hands, as though surrendering. “Get in. We can talk. I’ll explain myself. I promise.”

I stand firm.

“Get in, please,” he pleads, gently.

“
No.”

“
Then can I come up?”

“
No.”

“
It’s cold out, and you’re without a coat.”

“
I’m fine. And your two minutes are seriously ticking by.”

“
You’re just going to stand there, half in the street and talk to me through the car window. Is that it?”

“
That’s it.” I cross my arms over my chest, partly to look intimidating, partly to keep from freezing.

“
I brought you something. For the ball?” He motions to the seat beside him. It’s a very large box. I scowl.

“
What ball? I don’t recall inviting you.”

“
Yes, well, I’m sure you meant to.” Now his voice is teasing. “Mina spoke to me about it earlier. She practically insisted I accompany you.”

“
Lovely,” I snap. “I’m so glad you could be persuaded. That doesn’t explain why you know where I live.”

“
Yes, it does. Mina has a big mouth. Did I mention I brought you something?”

My resolve is melting a bit, only a bit though. Now I
’m just beginning to be embarrassed, which is almost worse than angry. Embarrassed at my mistake of Sam being a deranged killer stalking his prey or embarrassed that Mina had to beg him to take me to the ball? I’m not sure yet.

“
Yes, you mentioned it. I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

“
That’s probably because your brain is frozen solid. Please get in?”

I tap my toes and debate. Plus, the motion keeps my extremities from snapping off.

“Please?”

It
’s the please that does me in and the gentle way in which he says it. I’ve never really been treated with much respect in my short life, especially by a handsome man. Lord, am I really dumb enough to fall in love with him? I want to kick myself, but I also want to enjoy the fall.

“
All right,” I grouse, going around to the other side of the Rolls, “but if you kidnap me, I swear I’ll beat you to a bloody pulp. I have had self defense training because of the patients, you know.”

I didn
’t actually think he could hear me, being inside the car and all, but I clearly see the corners of his mouth turn up. I get in grudgingly and slam the door a bit. Immediately, I feel sorry for abusing the car.

23

“I still think you’re being,” I pause, “forward.”

He looks shocked.
“Forward? God, no. I’ve been called a lot of things, but you wound me, madam. I would never be forward. A sexy brute, a wayward man, a rake who has sold his soul to the devil for a meal, but never forward. Good Lord.”

I don
’t do him the favor of laughing, though I’m sure Marianne would have giggled her head off. I’m still wondering what I’ve gotten myself into with this man/boy, and just how far over my head I am. The knowledge that he was lurking outside my flat doesn’t sit well with me. Perhaps it’s the over cautious orphan in me, or perhaps I’ve just never walked out with a boy before.

“
Truce?” Sam offers me his hand. After a slight hesitation, I take it. It’s calloused but warm. It feels familiar even. Like we fit together. The thought, or his touch
—
I’m not sure which—sends chills up my arm.

“
I promise not to hurt you, Lizzie. You can trust me.” His voice is low and disconcerting in its frankness, especially after his joking just seconds before. It seems important that I believe him, like he will be disappointed and grieved if I don’t.

“
Truce. Now what did you bring me?” Nothing like gifts to melt my stubborn resolve, evidently.

“
Open it.” Sam had moved the package over off the passenger seat when I had slid in, and now he hands it to me. He waits with all the patience of a small child. “Go on! Open it! Here, there’s a seal here. No, like this. Turn it over. Here, let me.”

“
Oh, for goodness sake. Would you like to do this for me?”

“
You’re one of those girls who open their birthday presents at a snail’s pace, aren’t you? Just rip into it!”

“
I’ve never gotten a birthday present actually.”

“
Oh. I’m sorry. I should have remembered that. That was terribly stupid of me.”

“
Don’t be sorry; why would you have remembered something you didn’t know? It’s not a big deal.” The box is finally pried open of its tape and glue and whatever else had held it together. I move a layer of fine paper. I know what it is, even before I’ve finished pulling it out. A ball gown. A beautiful ball gown of black gossamer and tulle with gold trim. There’s also a mask, gold and black filigree. I’ve never seen anything so gorgeous, not even in Mina’s closet. I’m speechless. I simply sit and stare at my lap, the black and gold layers spreading over me and spilling over and in and through my fingers.

“
Do you like it?” Sam sounds anxious. “We can get you something else if it’s not your style. I’m a man, after all, I don’t know dresses very well.”

“
You do,” I cleared my throat. “You do know dresses very well, actually. It’s wonderful. I just don’t know what to say.”

“
Say you like it. And say you’ll wear it tonight. With me.”

“
Are you being forward again, young man?” I say, lightly. “What have I told you about that?”

“
Something about a bloody pulp, I believe. I’ll take the risk just to see you in that gown.”

“
Sam.”

“
Yes?”

“
What do you want with me? I’m just a nurse. Not even that hardly. You could ask anyone to Mina’s ball.”

“
I don’t want anyone. I want to go with you.”

“
Did Mina put you up to this?” I’m still confused as to why he’d want to be with me.

“
I don’t let myself be bossed around by rich little girls, so no. She didn’t.” He sighed. “Now are you going to quit being so difficult?”

“
Thank you for the dress.”

“
You’re very welcome. Happy birthday.”

“
It’s not my birthday.”

“
Isn’t it?” The playful smile is back. Lord, my heart.

I can
’t take it. I have to change the subject. “Have you had any luck locating Rose? I haven’t seen you at the hospital lately.”

His smile disappears.
“Not really, no. Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of her, but no.”

A glimpse of her? It sounds like she could be playing with him the same way she played with Sonnet, allowing herself to be seen once in a while, on her turf so to speak. The thought gives me chills.

“Sam, I don’t think you understand how dangerous she may be. Her diary is so disturbing. She’s in a lot of trouble. I don’t know what’s true and what’s in her head.”

“
The stuff that’s true doesn’t bother me.” Sam sighed again. “It’s what is in her head that has me worried. She became quite delusional in the last year or so.” He looks at me with an apologetic, hangdog kind of look.  “I’ve been at a loss as to how to handle her. I know the doctors felt the same way. No one knew how to help her anymore.”

“
What of her husband?” I broach the subject of Luke finally.

“
What of him?”

“
Where is he?” I gesture with my hands impatiently. “Why isn’t he searching for her? What’s happened to him? Why isn’t he helping?”

“
Ah, well. It’s a delicate subject, little one. And he’s hardly a gentleman. I wouldn’t be surprised if he has taken off for good. She was far too young to get married anyway, barely more than a child. He’s probably running from the law somewhere, to be truthful. I never liked him.”

“
You knew him then?” This surprises me, though I can’t say why.

“
Of course. Not well; no one did. He showed a different face to whomever he chose.”

“
So she’s really alone then? With no one? Wandering around London?” I feel sad for her. Scared of her, but sad for her.

“
Essentially. She has me, a few others perhaps, but no one she will confide in or come to of her own free will.” Sam looks at me apprehensively, as if he’s concerned about what I will think or say. “I’ve tried everything I can think of. I’m starting to get worried. She’s never stayed away so long.”

“
You still think she’ll just pop back up at Bedlam?” I can’t help the skepticism that creeps into my voice. “That’s your plan?”

“
I do best without plans.”

I hold up the dress.
“This took substantial planning, liar. Oodles and oodles of planning. Positively Machiavellian planning, I’d say.”

“
Are you kidding? That old thing? Was sitting on a curb I happened to drive by. No one else wanted such an ugly waste of fabric, so I took it home out of pity.”

“
Liar,” I say again, but this time with fondness. I finger the gossamer lovingly. Sam watches my fingertips and suddenly I feel flushed. “I should go.”

“
You should indeed. Get those wretched rags out of my fine car.”

I laugh as I leave, lugging my precious gift in my arms. I
’m careful not to drag it on the ground.

“
Be ready at eight,” Sam pulls his hat lower over his eyes, but not before I see him wink.

Her sheets smelled of her, of Sonnet, and the whole house gave me the shivers. I didn’t like the homey touches, the things here and there that reminded me my family had called this home. I had never had things like they did; I found it unnatural. A monogrammed towel in the bathroom, a mug half empty in the kitchen, the pillows on the couch where I knew my father had slept, odd containers of odd food in the refrigerator (probably Prue’s), her food cart parked in the covered porch, the giant blue car that I had seen Israel drive, and once, Sonnet, park at the curb, the same curb I had stood at, in the pouring rain, that night long ago. Not so long ago now. Probably only, what? Two days ago? How funny. Time is funny stuff. But dwelling on it makes my head hurt worse.

I went back to bed on Sonnet
’s bed. I covered my head in the blankets, like a child, and wouldn’t get up when Luke prodded me. I was in a mood. One of my black moods. I couldn’t quite remember why we had come, but I didn’t want to admit it to Luke. Hadn’t we already taken care of Sonnet? She wasn’t here any longer, was she? Or was she? Why had we come back? Or had we never left at all?

I laid there and tried to regain my scattered thoughts. They were bouncing aroun
d like sunbeams through glass; I couldn’t catch them and line them up properly. Everything was out of order. Once again, the television in my mind had no sound. Luke bent over me, and I could see his lips moving, talking to me, but it was useless; I couldn’t hear. I scowled at him, and when he got tired of being ignored, he left for a bit.

Was the traveling making me worse? What if I finally caught up with my family, but couldn
’t recall them any longer or why I was searching for them to begin with? My life’s work was in danger of slipping away, due to my blasted, flawed, wounded brain. The gift the doctors had given me might be the death of me yet. How ironic.

Eventually, I got tired of feeling sorry for myself and got up to make tea. I used a mug with a ridiculous looking fat cat on the front. The tail curled into the handle. It was ugly, but it held a massive amount of
bad tea. I picked through the food containers and ate something that tasted of squirrel. Soon enough, I began to notice sounds again: the whistling of the wind through a crack in the window, the hum of the refrigerator, traffic going by. Mentally, I put myself back together, even took a bath which I don’t do often, and was more cheerful when Luke returned. There were all sorts of bath oils and lotions and soaps lined up by the bathtub, and I used every one. I smelled nice.

“
Harry and Matthias were happy to see me,” he announced, settling into the couch. He had kissed me like we hadn’t just quarreled, which is one of my favorite things about him. He never holds a grudge with me. He is happy to start over, each and every day if necessary. He teases me sometimes that I am a high maintenance wife. I tell him beggars can’t be choosers, and who else but me would want a thieving murderer for a husband? That always make him laugh, and I love to hear him laugh.

I had located the missing part of my memory concerning our visit here, so I knew of whom he was speaking.
“Were they not suspicious at all?”

“
Of course not. We were chums well enough, remember? They have no idea what happened after the Grays left here. For all they know, they are living in a castle in medieval Scotland right about now. Of course, they don’t know I know anything about the Lost, so they made up a story about how they moved away suddenly and didn’t leave a forwarding address. I went along with it, though I played the jilted lover quite well, I think. Tried for a hangdog look, and ran my hands through my hair as much possible. Felt like I was in a damn soap opera. Anyway, they had nothing to lose by telling me a bunch of back story on your dad, since they know he’s long gone. They don’t realize we mean to find them, no matter the century. I’m going to heat up some of Prue’s cooking. She’s a darn fine cook.”

“
Stupid old men,” I rolled my eyes, and combed through my wet hair with my fingers. “Why are people so gullible?”

“
Because they aren’t as smart as us, love. That’s why. Oh well, they’re good enough chaps, but I may need another day with them to get more leads. Mmm, you smell good.”

“
What did they tell you so far?” I’m done with my hair and leave it to drip down my back onto Sonnet’s blouse. I had tried on all her clothes in her closet. There weren’t many, and most were strange, but I felt like being her for a bit. Also, I knew it would annoy her to know I was dressing in her things, sleeping in her bed, eating her food, like Goldilocks. The blouse was far too large, but it was a comfortable T-shirt material and was a pretty blue color. It brought out my eyes. It probably brought out her eyes too, but I didn’t care. I was the beautiful one, after all.

“
Let’s see,” Luke propped up his feet on my lap. “There was some substantial time in Portugal we could look at. That’s where they picked up Israel, I believe. I also think we need to focus on that buggar a bit more; if he and Sonnet are going to make a love match of it like I suspect they will, they might do a little tour of his homeland, look up relatives
—
I don’t know, stuff you do when you’re honeymooning.”

“
We didn’t,” I pointed out.

“
Sure we did. We’re doing it now, aren’t we? Looking up your relatives.”

“
To kill them, not drop by for the holidays,” I responded.

“
Tomato, tomahto. Besides, you don’t want to kill them. Come on, love, you saw how much they want you in their life. It’s not too late for that.”

I
’m skeptical and let it show on my face. Besides, I don’t care if he’s right about them letting me in; I’m not interested. “What else?”

“
Well, to focus on Israel again: I was thinking about where he’d go to be the most helpful in 1888. He’d probably stay in a city, partly to find work, and partly to stay hidden from us.”