Page 24 of Anastasia and the Duke
With a cheery wave, Hannah set off to explore the myriad of shops which lined Queen Street. Cheapside was where all of London came to shop, for it was filled with every kind of store. If one needed a corset, a parasol, or even a pair of spectacles, they could be found here.
Hannah made her way from the linen-drapers to the haberdashers, and on to the hosiers, transfixed by each one. St Giles', though only a stone's throw away, was a different world entirely, and Hannah had never dared venture into the shops frequented by those of the upper and up-and-coming classes. Hannah's own clothes--those that had not been "borrowed" from the theatre--were made by Nan, who purchased her materials in Spitalfields, where the descendants of the Huguenots still wove textiles. Hannah had spent her childhood flitting between this market stall or that, chattering in French with those who still spoke it.
Once outside the mantua-maker's--which Hannah had only briefly inspected, for it also served as an undertaker's--she decided it was time to return to Grosvenor Square. Her feet, inside the new kidskin boots that Lady Lansdowne had provided her, ached and chafed from all the walking.
You're becoming soft, Hannah thought with a smile, but her amusement soon disappeared as a dark shadow fell over her.
"You're blocking my path, sir," Hannah said levelly, to the large brute who barred her way. Most ladies might cower, but Hannah knew this sort well; all muscle and no mettle.
"I want a word with you," the brute growled in reply, reaching out a meaty hand to grab Hannah's elbow.
Though he was well over six foot--and nearly as wide--Hannah held her nerve. She was no shrinking violet whom he could rob--not that taking her reticule would do him much good.
As he grabbed her elbow, Hannah reared back and brought the heel of her new boots down upon his toe with great precision and determination. The man let out a howl of displeasure, before lunging again for Hannah, who lithely dodged his arms.
"Miss Blackmore! Hang tight, we're coming."
Philip, who had been alerted to the kerfuffle by the man's screams, jumped from the carriage and began sprinting towards them.
The man cast an annoyed glance at the young footman, who was tailed at a slower pace by Jacobs, and snarled in annoyance.
"Sidney sends a message," the man growled to Hannah, "Hurry up."
There was no doubt that by sending a brute like him, that Sidney had wanted to send a stronger message than one which could be conveyed by mere words. Hannah's bravado dimmed, as the man pushed past her, knocking painfully against her shoulder.
As with Nan, Sidney had been pushed to the recesses of her mind while she enjoyed her new-found comforts as Lady Lansdowne's pet, but she had been foolish for his presence was everywhere.
Even here, even in Cheapside amongst the moneyed shoppers he could reach her. And how was Nan, how was she faring now that she was all alone without Hannah to defend her?
"Are you alright, Miss Blackmore?" Philip queried, as he reached her side.
He placed a concerned hand on Hannah's elbow, the same one that the brute had grabbed, and Hannah flinched as she imagined that it was Sidney's fingers touching her.
"She's going to faint," Philip declared to Jacobs, who--thanks to his devotion to the second of the seven deadly sins--had lagged several paces behind.
"I'm not going to faint," Hannah asserted, batting away his concern with an impatient hand.
"It's the shock," Philip explained away her uncharacteristic irritation to Jacobs, "It sends them hysterical-like."
Hannah bristled; she was not hysterical.
"IT'S OK, MISS BLACKMORE," Philip shouted loudly in Hannah's face, before she could reply, "YOU'RE SAFE NOW."
"Stop shouting," Hannah sighed, as the footman's antics drew more eyes than her assailant's had, "I am fine. No. Philip, there's no need to carry me."
Hannah batted away the footman, who had been about to attempt to lift her into his arms. She did, however, clutch at his offered elbow, and allow him to lift her into the Barouche when they reached it.
"There now, miss," Philip soothed, as he swaddled the carriage blanket around Hannah as though she were an infant, "We'll be home soon, don't fret."
"Thank you, Philip," Hannah replied, profoundly grateful for his pampering.
Despite the Barouche's raised hood, and the thick blanket which covered her, Hannah felt chilled to the bone. She willed the traffic which clogged the road to part, wishing desperately that she were back safe in Grosvenor Square beside the fire.
But was she safe there?
If Sidney could send his minions to attack her in Cheapside, he could send them to Mayfair too. That he was sending them at all meant that he was not happy.
Hannah shivered; she had heard tales of what happened to those who displeased the great Sidney Pritchard--and not one had a happy ending.
