Page 50 of A Ruse of Shadows
Sally Tompkins rose to her feet again. “Yes, mum.”
Miss Charlotte poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip. “Did the woman who entrusted this letter to you give you a name?”
“No, mum. She didn’t tell me her name. But I found out later, from my friend the waitress, that it was a Mrs. Overhill who didn’t show up.”
“What did the woman look like?”
“She was awful pretty—brown hair, blue eyes, nice figure.”
That sounded exactly like Mrs. Claiborne. Mrs. Watson glanced at Miss Charlotte, who again looked as if she could fall back asleep at any moment. But that did not stop her from continuing with her questions. “Do you remember what she was wearing?”
“I do, mum, something beautiful. It was a traveling costume, I think. Grey broadcloth with a few blue braids.”
“That does sound nice,” said Miss Charlotte, who never wore such understated outfits unless she was in disguise. “And did she tell you the reason she couldn’t come into the hotel?”
“She didn’t, mum.”
“Do you recall what she said exactly?”
Sally Tompkins nodded eagerly. “She said, ‘My dear, I have a great big favor to ask. Will you take this letter and give it to the ladies who are waiting inside for me? And this is for you.’ And then she gave me the letter and a crown and ran off.”
“She really ran? She sprinted?”
Sally Tompkins again nodded in complete certainty. “She picked up her skirts—I saw her stockings. She ran so fast she didn’t evenhear me trying to tell her that I wasn’t allowed inside the dining rooms.”
“Did she look afraid?”
The question stumped Sally Tompkins. But after thinking about it for some time, her brow furrowed, she shook her head. “She sounded out of breath the entire time she was talking to me. I’d have said that she was in a huge hurry, rather than afraid. But me mum always says I hardly ever know what’s going on. Maybe shewasafraid and I was too busy looking at her fancy handbag to notice.”
Miss Charlotte smiled a little, her lips dry and pale. “Or maybe you are right and she was only in a great big hurry.”
?Miss Charlotte’s conjecture was contradicted by the arrival of Mrs. Claiborne’s next letter, this time by post.
Dear Miss Holmes and Mrs. Hudson,
My deepest apologies! I feel wretched for not keeping to our appointment, but I also feel, well, competent—almost—for the course of action I did take.
This morning, after I proposed our meeting, I felt better for having done something. As I headed out in the afternoon, my spirits further buoyed—I was sure you would be able to help me.
But upon approaching the hotel, who should I spy but the man and the woman I had seen loitering outside the town house!
I felt dizzy and nauseous. But I kept moving and soon found myself in the alley behind the hotel. A girl in an apron stood there. I accosted her and begged her to give you the letter I’d prepared ahead of time.
And then I hopped in a hansom cab and shouted to be taken to the nearest railway station.
I have not wanted to leave London. Despite what I said about the smell of perfume on Mr. Underwood and the possibility he might have already absconded with someone else, deep in my heart I still believe him nearby, trying to resolve things in a manner that would allow us to have a wonderful future.
But now I am on a train rumbling toward Dover.
Once I finish this letter, I will get off at the next station and post it. But after that, ought I find a railway inn and sleep on the matter? Or should I proceed to the end of the line and buy a passage overseas?
I seem to have the vague notion that with postal orders one can purchase small notices in the papers from anywhere in the world. Which means that no matter where I end up, I can still inform Mr. Underwood of my whereabouts, in the code he taught me, a code he’d devised himself. And he can then find me.
If, that is, he still wants to—and still can.
Again, my apologies for the inconvenience I might have caused you. I beg your forgiveness.
Yours,
