Shadows Falling: The Lost #2 (20 page)

“
If they haven’t traveled centuries yet.” I frown. I hoped we had enough time to locate them before they really made it difficult.

“
We found them once; we can do it again, but yes, it’d be easier if they’d stay put in 1888 for a time. Another interesting tidbit: they spent time in a monastery in Spain, close enough to London to get there. Knowing European history and how much they love their antiquities, I’m sure it’s partially still there in 1888, even though it was the twelve hundreds the last time they were there.”

“
Why would they go back? Were they happy there?” I can’t imagine being happy in a monastery. Or in Spain. Or in the twelve hundreds. Or at all really.

“
Happy enough, it sounds like. Noah attempted to dry out a bit there though it didn’t last, and it sounds like Sonnet enjoyed the company of the monks as a kid. Besides, it would be a good place to hide out when your revenge-bent family members come a-calling.”

“
Not funny. You know I don’t get your jokes. Stay serious and help me figure this out. So you think we should go to Spain? Now?”

“
No, in 1888. And it’s just an idea. Frankly, I don’t like the idea of you making us go anywhere at all, not with what it’s been doing to you lately. What did you find around here?”

“
Nothing relevant. I’m tired. What about Emme’s mother? Do we know anything about her past?”

“
Ugh. Didn’t ask about her. I suppose that’s an avenue we could try, as well. I wish you’d let go of this, though. Haven’t we done enough to them?”

I pushed his feet off me. The same old song and dance. He was always trying to talk me out of my plans, at least the ones involving my family. He just doesn
’t understand. He left his family. They didn’t leave him. It’s two entirely different things. They’ve shaped who we are: he is good at leaving; I am only good at being left.

“
I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Luke put his hands up in surrender, like he does when he knows he’s pushed me too far. “Forget it. We’ll go to Spain. If there’s nothing there for us, we’ll research Emme’s mother. Okay? Forgive? Forget?”

I was feeling too petulant to answer, but I nodded. We pulled an
“all-nighter,” as Luke called it, in order to stay and pick the old brother’s brains one more time, and then we left for Spain, with our forever-predictable night at Bedlam in between.
And things started to really unravel.

24

I’m ready for the ball, but I’m too engrossed in Rose’s tale to feel much like Cinderella. My gown is bunched up at my ankles, as I curl up in the corner of my bed. Sam will be here any moment, but I can’t stop reading. I have applied my red lipstick and done what I can with my flyaway hair, and my mask is safely inside my handbag. My old black shawl is shabby, but it matches, and I will take it off once I’m at Mina’s anyway. I have no looking glass besides the shiny side of the tin cupboard I keep my biscuits in, so I don’t know exactly how nice I look. I hope it’s good enough for the ball. I’m torn between the excitement of the ball and being seen in my beautiful dress and wanting to cry the whole thing off and finish the diary. I have only pages left. I could finish it easily in an hour, even with the outrageous handwriting.

And then go back to my normal life? What would I do once Rose was torn from me? The idea of catching her now seems ludicrous, and I wouldn
’t know what to do with her even if I could track her down. It occurs to me that I am tracking her the same way she is tracking Sonnet, only I, of course, am not plotting any murders. I desperately hope she isn’t either. Perhaps her homicidal tendencies are all in her head? (I remember the girl from the side show, and Rose’s own mother. Perhaps not.) Then again, I can’t trust a single thing she says in this diary of hers; maybe I am fretting for nothing. We had a patient at Bedlam who confessed to dozens of murders and claimed they were all buried in his yard. Scotland Yard dug up every square inch and never found a soul. It was all in his head. That isn’t to say we didn’t all watch our backs around him though.

I glimpse at my clock: 7:58.

Firmly, I snap the diary shut and stand up. I should meet Sam outside. I may not be marvelous at being a lady, but I really shouldn’t let my reputation get too far out of hand. It wouldn’t surprise me if he marched up the stairs to claim me, and that really wouldn’t do. Marianne has a big mouth.

I
’m halfway down the stairs before my resolve runs out. I race back up to grab the journal and tuck it inside my handbag. Maybe the party will be dull as watching paint dry, and I can steal an hour away when everyone else is dancing. Here’s hoping.

The Phantom is already here, and I get a little twinge of excitement in the pit of my stomach. I
’ve never really done anything like this: been taken to a sophisticated party with a rich man. Well, the rich part doesn’t impress me overly much; it only overwhelms me, but the man part is difficult to wrap my head around. His age isn’t much more than mine, and in fact, were he anyone else, I might call him a boy, not a man at all. I think of Mack as nothing but a boy, and they’re around the same years. But something about Sam is timeless, that old soul thing again that occurred to me when I first met him.

I see him step out of the car, and the expression on his face is one of appreciation and admiration.
“You look stunning,” he says, so softly, I nearly have to strain to hear it. His hand reaches out to me then, and I get the wild, crazy thought that he is going to pull me into his arms. I shy away without even thinking about it; it’s only reflex. He puts his hand stiffly in his coat, and smiles, but I don’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes. Why did I act like that? I feel stupid. He probably only wanted to take my elbow, escort me around to the passenger side of the car, like a gentleman. Now I’m left to fend for myself, and I nearly slam my dress in the door as I get in.

“
It fits perfectly,” I say, quietly. I’m feeling shy, and I clear my throat. 

“
Yes, it does.”

“
You’re frightfully good at estimating women’s sizes.” Good. My voice is back to a normal squeak, instead of a hardly audible squeak.

“
I spend a lot of my free time trying on their clothes.” Sam confesses, pulling away from the curb.

I chuckle.
“Must be tough to find shoes to fit. Your feet are the size of boats.”

“
You injure me. I have to tell you now, I’m a terrible dancer. I think you should know I practically maimed the last girl I danced with. Flattened her toes into pancakes. They were never the same. After that, she was the one who couldn’t find shoes to fit.”

“
Thanks for the warning. I’m used to staying one step ahead of Mr. Limpet’s wheels, so I bet you won’t maim me yet.” I’m already picturing his arms around me as we dance, and I feel suddenly warm. “Can I have the window down?”

“
Certainly. Aren’t you afraid of the wind mussing your hair or blowing your cosmetics off?”

“
No.” I lean out a bit.

“
You’re a funny thing, little one,” he says.

“
I know,” I reply. “I’ve been called worse.”

********************

At Mina’s, the ball is far more festive, fancy, and crowded than I ever imagined. I’d only ever been to fetes at the hospital or the orphanage, and those always had a point to them: a plea to raise monies or funding, or find homes for children, or reward patrons, etc. This is just a party, a party for parties sake, a party for the rich and bored specifically. I feel as though I stuck out like a sore thumb, even though my gown is every bit as lovely as the other girls’. Mina had swooped out of nowhere and embraced me with excitement. She oohed and ahhed over the black dress, berated me for forgetting to put on my mask immediately, and then scampered off to find me a beverage, even though Sam had already done so. He is wearing his mask
—
it’s a black raven—and I am suddenly grateful for his height and how well I somehow know his build, because I could find him easily enough in the crowd if I needed to.  Why would I need to, I chide myself. Oh yes, the den of iniquity I was warned about.

“
Hullo, Lizzie,” a cheerful voice shouts. It’s Mack; I can tell even with his silly peacock mask. He and Mina are a matched pair. I wonder what Mrs. Dobson thinks of that. I doubt she approves. Silently, I give Mina a little huzzah! for her spunk. Mack hands me a goblet of liquid. I will need more hands if people keep bringing me drinks. “Having a marvelous time, are you?”

“
Sure. Marvelous. I’m not thirsty, thank you.” I hand it back rather petulantly. I know it’s immature of me, but I just can’t seem to get over my dislike of Mack. Work place jealousy, I know, but I can’t help it.

“
Suit yourself.” He drinks it all in one long swallow. With his mask on, he reminds me of a peacock I saw at the zoo once during an orphanage outing or one of those silly bobbing bird statues that tip when you tap their tail feathers. He disappears back into the throng of party goers.

I can
’t see Sam anymore, and I can’t see Mina either, and suddenly I feel very alone in a sea of people in which I don’t belong.
Is it possible to drown in people?
I wonder. I feel like I’m going under. It’s too stifling hot, and I feel conspicuous in my huge gown, even though it blends in perfectly with everyone else’s. I lift my hair off my neck and breathe deeply.

I
’m completely surprised when I catch sight of Miss Helmes. It has to be her. No one else has that figure. I’m so taken aback at her fashion—an actually stunning white velvet gown with a swan headdress—that my wits have left with my voice.

“
Lizzie,” Miss Helmes’ voice echoes out of the swan’s head. “Lizzie, you look as though you’re going to faint. Are you well?”

I manage to recover my wits and even find the muscles with which to turn up the corners of my mouth.
“Yes, yes, ma’am,” I stammer. “You’re looking...” I pause, stumped for an adjective, “quite nice, and plump. I mean, plump like a swan is plump.”

“
Thank you.” If she’s insulted, she doesn’t show it. Perhaps a rail thin woman finds the word plump to be a compliment? “You are certain you are well? Are you corseted in that thing? Corsets are terrible for women’s health. They’re very outdated. You should know better.”

I span my hands on my waist.
“No, no corset. I was just feeling a bit overheated.”

“
Well, sit down,” the swan sighs. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

Just then, my other drink bearers, Sam and Mina, arrive.
“Lizzie, come on! Quit lurking by the door!” Mina pulls my hand and sets a goblet in the other.

“
Sorry. I was feeling a bit sick for a minute there, and it didn’t help to suddenly have Miss Helmes’ bosom heaving up and down at me. It gave me motion sickness. You could have warned me she was coming. Who in the world is working tonight if the whole hospital is here?” I drink my beverage. It’s deliciously cold, and I feel instantly better. I help myself to the one Sam brought as well. I may spend half the party in the toilet, emptying my bladder, but at least I don’t feel sick anymore.

“
Oh, the new staff doesn’t need to be babysat anymore. They’ll do fine, even without Doc Ford.” Mina motions with her gloved hands, waving away any worries.

“
Wait. Doc Ford is here, too?” I’m not sure if I’m concerned for the safety of the unmanned hospital, or if I’m insulted that I was far from the only employee Mina had invited.

“
It’s a party, isn’t it? He’s the porcine wonder over there.”

I squint.
“Oh dear, that’s a lot of bacon.”

Mina giggles, and Sam chuckles.
“He is positively roly-poly, isn’t he?”

“
I’m craving ham,” I say, seriously. “Like never before.”

“
Lizzie! Stop it, you two, you’re awful.” Mina looks suddenly sorry that she had been laughing a moment before. Her nose wrinkles. “That isn’t nice.”

“
I’m sorry.” I put on my best contrite face, though it’s completely false. She appears to be mollified until Sam snorts like a pig very softly in my ear, and I lose my composure in laughter.

“
You’re hopeless,” Mina scowls. “And you, sir, are only encouraging her lack of manners. I have to go see to my guests. Try to stay out of trouble, Lizzie!”

“
I love hearing your laugh. You don’t do it often enough.” Sam stays close to my ear, his arm around my waist, and I shiver.

“
That’s because you spend too much time annoying me instead of making me laugh,” I reply, but I’m careful to not turn my head so his breath stays exactly where it was before: on my neck. I don’t feel like shying away from him now. What is in this punch?

“
Come mingle with me; I want to show you off.”

I like the idea of being shown off, of being beautiful enough to show off, so I do what he asks, mingling. I keep seeing a swan
’s head focused my way, so I am sure to be on my best behavior. When we say hello to Dr. Ford, I have a difficult time keeping from dissolving into schoolgirl giggles. Anything and everything he says can be put through a filter of pig and seems alarmingly hilarious somehow. His pink forehead shines with sweat from his silly costume, and Sam tortures me by making small talk for what seems like an eternity, managing to work mentions of gravy and chops and bacon into every sentence. I am grateful to my mask for concealing at least part of my smiling.

Finally, we dance
. The music is loud and rather clashing to the ears; I prefer what we heard at the restaurant with the singing lady who had made me think of Sonnet. That will always be Our Restaurant in my mind, forever and always. I would never confess that to him, of course. He would think me silly and young.

The way he looks at me, though, he doesn
’t think me silly and young now. I hadn’t bothered with eye makeup—partly because I don’t own any and partly because it seemed a pointless thing to do if I’m covered by my masquerade mask anyway—but I had freshly applied my red lipstick. He stares at my mouth in a way that makes me somewhat breathless, or perhaps that’s the dancing?

I had learned all sorts of dances in the orphanage, and wherever Sam had learned, they had taught him well.

“You don’t dance terribly, you big liar,” I say, when we pass by one another. This dance is an old fashioned reel, where we switch partners and wind in and out from one another. I had just been handed off back to Sam by a reindeer that had nearly gored me with his chivalrous bow. What a way to die.

“
No? I think you’re blinded by love. I really am a terrible dancer.”

“
Oh?” I laugh. “Love, is it? My, but your head and ego are large. I am surprised you fit in this ballroom.”

“
I came through the side entrance, so as not to smash it. My big head, I mean. And are you suggesting you aren’t wildly in love with me, little one?” His tone is light, but I still blush beneath my mask.

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out, and it
’s just as well anyway, because I am stolen away by Mack in the next part of the reel.

“
You look nice, Lizzie. Did I already say that?” His breath smells of punch and an assortment of food. He is too close to me.

“
I’m not.”

“
Not what?”

“
Nice.”

“
Oh,” he chuckles. “Will you put in a good word for me with Mina?”