“I’d rather die than bring him back here for a single second, my good woman,” he announced grandly, and made his exit before the woman could figure out that she’d been insulted.
Henry stepped in another, different pile of filth when they staggered out of the inn. He cursed, hopping on one foot, and managed to shove Alex unceremoniously into the back of the carriage. The inside would need a good clean when they got back, but it would be worth it if they could escape this place in one piece.
A bucket of something awful was emptied out of the window, narrowly missing Henry. A cackle followed this gift from above, indicating that the landlady had finally worked out that she was being insulted.
He was still cursing and hopping when a little voice came from the gutter near the door to the inn.
“She does that all the time, mister. It’s a game to her.”
He blinked, squinting into the gloom. Two spindly children of indeterminate age and gender appeared, both wearing greyish frocks that were more rag than fabric, both filthy, both no older than ten or eleven.
“You live here,” Henry said, the reality finally sinking in. All the filth and rubbish, the dark, narrow alleyways, thedanger… people lived here, didn’t they? Real people, not just the ones who made the place dangerous.
People lived here.
“Do you have somewhere to sleep?” he found himself asking.
The larger of the two urchins drew itself up warily. “Who’s asking?”
“This isn’t a safe place.”
“We can manage. We have a sister, a big sister. She sells flowers. But the landlady makes us get out of the house during the day. But ‘s alright, we can get a bit sitting here. Folks give uspennies every now and then. There are a few folks we have to avoid – a nasty gentleman with coattails, although they’re all patched up, he does things for hire, he does. Doesn’t like us around, listening in. That’s what he said. The drunks drop things,” the urchin nodded at Alex, hanging halfway out of the carriage. “We got a few shillings off him.”
Henry sighed. He dug in his pockets for the last of the pound-notes William had given him. The urchin’s eyes bulged when he handed them over.
“My name is Lord Henry Willenshire,” he said firmly. “What’s yours?”
“Bella, and this is Edward.”
“Fine names. If your landlady keeps turning you out-of-doors, tell her that I will come to speak with her. You can find me at the Fairfax offices to see me again. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, mister.”
“Go on, now. Get yourselves somewhere safe, do you hear?”
The children nodded obediently and scurried away into the darkness. Sighing, Henry climbed into the carriage and banged on the roof.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said brusquely, and the carriage lurched forward.
They’d been travelling for a few moments when Alexander finally spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he managed, voice low and hoarse.
Henry sighed. The anger he’d felt earlier had drained away.
“You can’t keep scaring us like this, Alex. This has to stop.”
“I know, I know. I just… I just can’t work out how to make it stop.”
Henry reached for his brother’s hand, squeezing gently. “We’ll work it out.”
They travelled on in silence for a few more minutes.
“Did you see your lovely Miss Fairfax today?”
Henry stiffened. “Don’t, Alex.”
Alexander, who had previously been lying across the opposite carriage seat on his back, maneuvered himself up into a sitting position.
