Page 13 of Razors & Ruin

“And then?”

Sweeney leans in, his voice beside her ear, and she quickens. I see the fear caught up in her excitement because I feel it, too, but I don’t want to share him. Not now, not ever.

I lash out, nails flying, and scratch a gouge into Marianne’s cheek. She recoils with a squeal and flees, running through a side alley. Sweeney takes a step as though to follow, but people are staring by now, and he turns back to me, coal-black eyes ablaze.

“You fool,” he hisses, grabbing my wrist. “I need to find my child. Do you understand?”

He has an agenda of his own.Of course. There I was thinking he was happy to set up his parlor and play house with me, just because it’s been all I’ve thought about for over a decade.

“You’re telling me this now?” I reply, trying to pull away. “She could be anywhere. Dead, more than likely. What good is it to know?”

“Her mother died for nothing.” He wrenches me aside, twisting my arm, and I yelp. “I have to find out what became of Johanna and settle a few scores as I go. Are you on my team or not, Nellie?”

I should say no, of course. Nothing about that sounds like reasonable behavior, but then again, I’ve slid a long way so far.

Over his shoulder, I catch a shimmer of yellow. Marianne still loiters, her scratched face peering around a grimy corner.

I drag my eyes back to Sweeney’s. “Of course, love,” I coo. “I’ll be good.”

He chucks me playfully under my chin. “Nottoogood, treacle. Why don’t you take a shiny new penny,” he presses the coin into my palm, “and fetch us some bread. Oysters, too, if they have them.”

I take the money and head for the fishmonger’s carts. Marianne ducks off to the right, and after checking Sweeney isn’t watching, I go after her.

I won’t be too good, Mr. T. Don’t you worry about that.

I catch up with the frightened girl before she can reach the square. She’s skittish, understandably, but I must play this gently.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “Truly.”

Marianne sniffs impetuously. “I was only saying hello. There was no need for you to get your bitch claws out!”

Oh. Not such a frothy slip of a lady when she’s riled. I kinda like that about her.

“I need your help,” I say. “You said you were Ms. Veronica’s maid. Did you know Sweeney well at that time?”

“Sweeney? That’s his name now?”

“Yes. He changed it, of course.” I smile, trying not to grit my teeth. “What was it between him and Veronica? Did he love her?”

“That’s all you want to know?” she asks. “He killed that husband of hers, you know. Cut him down like an animal. If his daughteris alive, she should see out her wretched life without ever knowing the evil from whence she spawned.”

Her flowery language is getting on my nerves. Now that I’m getting a better look, I see she’s not quite as well-kept as she first appears; her hemline is ratty, and her bonnet is unraveling on the underside.

“Come and have a visit with us,” I say. “Sweeney—Mr. Brook—asked me to run after you. I have a meat pie shop on Fleet Street. Allow me to offer you a hot meal to apologize, and we can talk more about the old days. Sweeney will be glad to give you some money for your generous assistance.”

Marianne knows it’s a stupid thing to do, but she’s a young woman for whom bad things are coming.

Whatever her means, they are rapidly running out, and a handsome creature like her has only one viable option; the docks. Maybe she’s there already at night, taking it upright in doorways and wondering how she fell so far.

I take her arm. “Maybe even a job? Business needs some investment, after all, and my Sweeney is getting set up in his tonsorial endeavors once again. I’m sure we can find a place for you.”

She doesn’t hesitate for as long as she should. Even as her blood congeals on her cheek, she turns on her heel and allows me to lead.

One hour later…

Marianne is deep into her third gin tumbler. I insist on warming a pie for her, but its stench keeps driving her back to the liquor, and the greasy crust remains uncracked.

“He’s something, isn’t he?” she sighs. “Sweeney, you say. Such a strong name for a strong man.”

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