Downtime Page 17

  Chapter Eleven

  It wasn’t Whitechapel where we ended up but according to Ezra, wasn’t too far from it. As grim and soot-blackened as the streets were, I had a feeling I wasn’t seeing the worst this London had to offer. The street Hannah called home was quiet except for the pub on the corner—and not reassuringly lit, again except for the pub on the corner. All that remained of what I suspected was a busy market street in the daytime was a lot of rotting vegetables, mud, and horseshit combining in a foul smelling mixture in the gutters. Assessing faces peered from murky windows and dark doorways as we moved at a fast walk toward Windsor Place. The only protection Ezra carried was a walking stick and I was glad I’d brought my gun.

  The address Kathleen had given us led to a house in the middle of a row, grimy and bleak to a one. I hated to think of Hannah or any kid in such a dump. I gave the street another once-over, more force of habit than out of real need, as there wasn’t another soul in sight. Ezra's knock brought a man who couldn’t have been more than thirty to the door, but I kind of doubted he was Hannah’s big brother. He had Hannah’s copper hair and blue eyes, but not her shy smile, more of a sullen irritation at the interruption. He rubbed a soot-streaked hand over the fuzz of a pale beard and plucked the stub of a cigar from his mouth. “What do you want?”

  Before Ez could start up with niceties, I decided to be as direct as Mr. Jolley. “Hannah. Is she here?”

  The sullen blue gaze narrowed. “Why?”

  “We’ve come on behalf of her employer, Miss Neilan,” Ezra said, with a pluck at my sleeve. “There’s been a misunderstanding. We’ve come to ask Hannah to return to Farbridge House, if you will allow it.”

  “And if she wants to,” I added, hoping someone intended to let the kid have a say in it.

  One corner of Mr. Jolley’s mouth twitched slyly upward. “You want her back, eh?”

  “You mistake us, sir,” Ezra said sternly. “There are no improprieties in Miss Neilan’s house where maidservants are concerned. We are only attempting to do right by the girl. Miss Neilan would like her to come back and she's asked that we might bring her.”

  “’Course she did.” Mr. Jolley leaned a shoulder casually against the door. “Wouldn’t see her coming around this ken on her own. What’d she do, blow up at the baggage and sack her, only to figure she’s better off with her than no help at all?”

  “You are Hannah’s father?” I just wanted to be sure before I socked the guy.

  “That’s right. And if you want her, you’ll make it worth my trouble.”

  I was ready to make it worth my own trouble. Only Ezra’s grip on my sleeve held me back. “Where is she?”

  Mr. Jolley jerked his head to crumbling steps that went down to the left behind us. I freed myself from Ezra and went down to knock. After a minute, Hannah opened the door and blinked at me in surprise. An angry bruise discolored her cheek, under a black eye. I turned to the son of a bitch I knew had given it to her. “What the hell are you doing, beating on a kid?”

  He looked over the rusty rail at her with contempt. “If she gets herself sacked for lying, it’s my job to set her straight, ain’t it? She won’t be lying again, will you, girl?”

  Hannah promptly shook her head and, with a warning glance at me, started to close the door. I caught it before she could and held it against her desperate pushes. “Wait a minute, Hannah. It’s all right. You’re not in any trouble. Kathleen wants you to come back. We all do.” I saw the doubt that flickered in her gaze and I hunched down so that we were more eye-to-eye. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble with Kathleen and your dad, honey. It didn’t occur to me that you might not want to tell Kathleen where you’d gotten the music box. Think you can give me a chance to make it up to you?”

  If my words confused her, my tone didn’t. Her face softened, more with relief than anything else. “You come for me?”

  “Yeah. Ezra and I did. Just for you. Want to come back with us?”

  She looked at her dad, who’d gotten a good idea of just how much we wanted her back, judging by the astute eye he fixed on Ezra. “My girl’s only just come home. You want to take her off again, you’ll give me something in return, like I said.”

  Ezra stared at him. “Are you attempting to sell us your daughter, sir?”

  “A shilling a week out of her pay ain’t enough to keep her poor old grandmother in vegetables when no one’s buying.” Mr. Jolley came down the steps and wrapped an arm over Hannah’s shoulders. “If Miss Neilan paid her proper so she could do right by them that’s brought her up, I’d have no call to ask a pittance of you, would I.”

  Ezra seemed to know with unerring instinct when to latch firm fingers on my wrist. “Mr. Jolley, I think you would be better served returning to the situation you just left, instead of depending on your daughter to provide for you. Hannah, will you come with us?”

  Mr. Jolley pushed Hannah behind him and thrust his scowling face in Ezra's. “The girl didn’t know that. How the devil do you?”

  “Hannah’s mother was good enough to mention it.”

  “Her mother’s dead,” he retorted, jabbing a finger against Ezra’s chest.

  “Yes,” Ezra said mildly, “but keeping an eye on you nevertheless. Hannah?”

  She seemed to be holding her breath. At Ezra’s question, she exhaled and without looking at her father, answered, “Yes, sir, please.”

  “Good enough. Mr. Jolley?”

  Mr. Jolley put a hand on the back of Hannah’s neck and gave her a push toward the door. “Inside, girl. You’re not going anywhere until these gents settle this to my satisfaction.”

  I’d had enough of this guy. “Hannah, you want your job back, you’ve got it. Run inside and get your things. It’s late and Kathleen’s worried about you.”

  “You’re not taking Hannah without my leave."

  “I’m taking Hannah out of this house for her own safety.” Pulling out my wallet, I let him get a good look at my badge. “Your admission of abuse is enough to substantiate maltreatment and justify removing Hannah until such time you’re deemed fit to care for her.”

  Ezra looked at me, intrigued. "What are you doing?"

  “Instituting Child Protective Services a little early. God knows your century could use it.”

  Mr. Jolley clearly had even less idea of what was going on. Shaking off a dazed expression, he settled back into his comfortable scowl. “You won’t be taking her without giving me something in return,” he repeated and grabbed my arm. I shook off his hand and brought a fist around to connect soundly with his cheekbone. He fell backward onto a wooden cart parked in the corner and went tumbling to the ground, the cart overturning on top of him. I gave my smarting hand a shake and waited to see if he was going to get up. He cradled his face in his palm and stared at me with furious eyes. “Who gave you the right? Bloody bastard.”

  I wished I could haul him in and lock him up for a few nights. “Just think of it as something in return.”

  Collecting Hannah’s things, we left her father sitting on his front steps, moaning over a rapidly discoloring cheek and throwing the occasional curse after us. We found a cab and made it back home by two, to find Derry and Henry up and waiting for us. Kathleen hadn’t wakened them, but Derry, with whatever sixth sense roused him out of bed to look after Ezra and anyone else who might need him, had gotten everyone up and ready to come hunting for us if we weren’t home by three. As we came in on a cold gust of wind, we were welcomed by relieved faces; but their smiles faded at the sight of Hannah’s bruised cheek and black eye.

  As Dr. Gilbride sat her on the parlor sofa and turned up the gas to examine her, Ezra related how I’d taken it upon myself to remove Hannah from her father’s house. No one said a word against Mr. Jolley in Hannah’s presence, but I could see approval in their eyes. The moment Dr. Gilbride pronounced Hannah not too much worse for wear, Kathleen had an arm around the kid and was taking her upstairs. I had a feeling Hannah wouldn’t be sleeping in the back of the kitchen agai
n, at least until the closet was turned into something resembling a real bedroom.

  Derry, on his way back to bed, wordlessly rewarded me with a hug that threatened to crack a few ribs. Henry reluctantly asked if I would bunk with him and I just as reluctantly agreed. But uninterrupted sleep was still not in the cards for me. I woke to a world that was still deep in slumber and, half-awake, twisted to get a look at the time before remembering my alarm clock was a hundred years out of reach.

  “Welcome to the century of a million minor inconveniences,” I muttered, resigned that I was not going to get a full night's sleep until I was back home. Cringing as I pushed off the blankets, I headed for the toilet in just the nightshirt, not caring who I ran into along the way. No one showed up to thwart my goal of getting back to a warm bed as soon as possible, but as I passed the stair landing, I couldn't help wondering if Ezra had ever gone up.

  His room was dark, but enough blue-tinged moonlight filtered in to direct my attention to a blanket-shrouded lump huddled against the wall. Concerned, I bent over him and peeled back the blanket. He'd fallen asleep the hard way, but he'd done it. I brushed a hand over the tangle of brown hair. "Ezra?"

  Eyes still shut, he grimaced at the cold. I noticed he’d gotten himself into a nightshirt at least, sparing his tux, but not doing much to keep him warm under a single blanket.

  I slipped an arm under his and pulled. He resisted and grumbled, "What the devil are you doing?"

  "Giving Derry a night off."

  "I don't require a governess, thank you. Let me sleep."

  "Fine, sleep all you want. Just do it in bed, okay?"

  Some part of his mind must have realized I wouldn't let him alone until I'd put him to bed. He allowed me to steer him across the room and onto the mattress. As I dragged the pile of blankets over him, he wrapped a hand around my wrist. "If you want to stay..." he yawned. "You may."

  I swallowed a laugh. If he was asking for a little help keeping the boogeyman away, it seemed a reasonable request. I wouldn’t be around long enough for him to become too dependent on my particular corporeal form to scare off the incorporeal. I climbed in next to him, just glad to be warm and horizontal again. He looked at me through half-closed eyes and smiled. "Good fellow. I shall try not to crowd you this time."

  “Yeah, that sort of thing can get you into trouble.” I elaborated with a wicked grin before rolling over to go to sleep.

  We snoozed past breakfast and straight through to lunch. My stomach told me so before I’d ever opened my eyes to see the sunlight slanting through the curtains. Ezra had more or less managed to keep his promise. He was still on his side of the bed but he’d pushed off the covers and the thin nightshirt had gotten twisted around the lean length of him in such a way that if we’d already been intimate, I’d have had him wide awake in a matter of seconds and hotter than if he’d kept the covers on. As things stood, he was still a temptation I had to bring a whole new level of resistance to. I wanted to glide my hand along his thigh, where the sunlight turned small brown hairs golden, and ease the nightshirt off so I could see every inch of him in that same light. I wanted to roll on top of him and wake him with slow kisses and feel his arms come around me to pull me down hard against him. I wanted to…

  “Morgan.”

  Snapped out of my reverie, I looked into a wide-awake blue gaze that looked back as if he knew exactly what was going on in my head. But all he said was, “Good afternoon.”

  “Is it?”

  “Good?”

  “Afternoon.”

  Without a glance over his shoulder, he reached back to the bedside table and procured his watch. “Heavens, it is.” He shut the watch and regarded me ruefully. “We are becoming quite slothful in our habits. We shall have to find our own lunch.”

  “Heroes never have it easy. You know, we could just sleep through ‘til dinner. They’re sure to feed us then, right?”

  “I daresay they will call on the doctor to come see if we’ve died.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never wiled away a day in bed.” Nearly nose-to-nose with him, I studied unabashedly the features I’d considered good-looking from the moment we’d met, and revised that estimation to downright handsome. Well aware of the wary light that had come into his eyes, I grinned at him. “No one says you have to sleep, you know.”

  “A pity,” he said softly. “I haven’t slept so well in years.”

  “Maybe you’re a little too focused on the ghosts. Time to come down to earth. Find what you’ve been missing out on.”

  “You’re quite the fellow for making assumptions about other people,” Ezra murmured, breath warm against my face.

  “Yeah?” I traced his collarbone and he closed his eyes, swallowing. Just the sort of response I liked to see. My fingers found their way along the curve of his neck and I noted that his pulse was running a little fast. He circled my wrist gently with one hand.

  “When you learned the truth about me from Jem, why didn’t you tell me--"

  “The truth about me?" It occurred to me he might have wondered if I simply didn't want him. And that couldn't be further from the truth. "I like you, Ezra. I just didn't think it was a good idea to complicate an already complicated situation. You sure didn’t need any more on your plate, being engaged and all—“

  “I’m engaged." He said it as if he'd forgotten all about it. Letting go of me, he slid out of bed and I surged out after him.

  “Calm down. You didn’t do anything.” I caught a handful of his nightshirt and pulled him to sit beside me on the mattress. “It’s my fault. Reese could tell you the organ involved in my clearest thinking usually isn’t my brain.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” He paused, then, “Reese?”

  I told him. Despite the mutual attraction we had going on, Ezra looked acutely sympathetic when I detailed the events just hours before he pulled me back through time. “When you return, will you press your suit?”

  I smiled at the quaint phrasing. “I don’t know. We kind of drove each other crazy and not in a good way. I don't think that one was meant to be for keeps."

  "For keeps?" Ezra looked momentarily puzzled, then figured it out on his own. "Forever, then? How charming."

  I snorted. "Yeah, well, not so much in my case. Reese doesn't want me back.” And I wasn’t as sure that I wanted him. But it was hard to be certain about anything in my life, since it wasn’t my life right now. It was still a bizarre dream I hadn’t figured out how to wake from.

  We spent more hours digging through some of the mustiest stacks in all of London but the means to send me home remained out of reach. Coming home late, we fetched our own supper again and, sparing Henry and Derry at long last, Ezra invited me to bunk with him. There was a certain humor in his eyes and I knew he was considering the fact that no matter whom I bunked with, I always seemed to end up in his bed anyway. I accepted the offer but behaved myself, knowing if I led him astray now, he'd have a hell of a time facing friends and family Friday night when his engagement was announced.

  Up early Thursday, we hit the bookshops again but I found myself paying less attention to titles and more to wracking my brain for forgotten details of the Ripper case. Ezra was similarly preoccupied and it had nothing to do with the Ripper. He sat in a dim corner with a book on his lap, turning pages at the rate of one every twenty minutes, and I just knew he was rethinking his father's best-laid plans. I wondered if Charlotte’s weekend was about to be ruined, thanks to me.

  Wanting to keep thinking of Ezra as off limits, I asked Derry to take me in another night. Predictably I woke up around two and stubbornly stayed put, stealing a couple more hours' sleep before sunrise. At breakfast, Ezra looked as though he'd slept even less than I had. I suggested a nap before the ball and somehow stifled the wicked grin that wanted to go with it.

  "I don't think I shall sleep," he despaired, pushing aside a half-eaten plate of eggs and biscuits. I heard the unspoken, "ever again" and kicked him lightly under the table.
>
  "What goes on at a ball anyway? Besides a lot of dancing, I guess.” With girls...

  Now there was a disturbing thought. About to ask Ezra if the dancing part was enforced, I noticed the dismay in his eyes. “What?”

  “You’ve never attended a ball?”

  “They’re not so common in my corner of the millennium. The upper crust in New York and I suppose in London still have something similar. The only time I've ever read the society pages was while chasing down a jewel thief. I figured he was probably reading them too--hey, where are you going?" I asked as he pushed back his chair and took off down the hall, calling for Derry. What was the deal with a ball, anyway? You go, you dance, you drink a little too much and if you're lucky you meet someone cute who could use a ride home...

  But apparently it was a little more than that. Book hunting was postponed so Derry, Henry, and Ezra could educate me on ball etiquette. It turned out to be a hell of a lot more complicated than anything I’d gone through at the academy. By the end of the morning, I was beginning to feel like Eliza Doolittle with one too many Higgins prodding me into their idea of respectability.

  At last the lessons ended due to resignation all around, and we got in a few hours of book hunting before coming back to the house to dress. We found Derry sprawled on the parlor sofa, spiffed up and looking brutally uncomfortable. He tossed aside the newspaper and beseeched us to get moving, as everyone else was ready to leave and he was famished.

  Ezra let me have the bathroom first and, restraining myself from remarking on the efficiency of a shared bath, I cleaned up, then let Ezra in to bathe while I shaved. Somehow I managed not to slice open an artery, despite the distracting view in the mirror. Ezra wasn’t so careful. I heard a wince on my way out of the bathroom and intending to rub his nose in it, turned to see him bent over the washstand with one hand in the water. He hadn’t done too much damage, just a small cut on one side of his hand.