Would anyone miss me?
Pain exploded in my head once more, and all too quickly, the depths of darkness welcomed me into their oblivion.
Chapter 3
Estelle
London, 1853
No one could have predicted that my position as governess would fall through shortly after I arrived in London. I had gone directly to the Governesses’s Benevolent Institution to apply for a new position but had yet to be hired. In my desperation, I had come to the newspaper office and submitted a discreet advertisement.
Reginald could not learn how far I had fallen.
At least I had made it to the post office before the establishment closed. Did that not prove my resilience? Worry built in my chest, and the confidence I had left home with wavered like a ship balancing precariously on the tip of a rock. Unfortunately, resilience would not feed and house both Nora and me.
“One year,” I whispered, retracing my steps to Nora’s side. One year as a governess. That’s it. Then I would reach my majority, return to collect my inheritance, and then convince a fine man to overlook my reputation and marry me. Why were my plans being thwarted so soon?
“What was ‘at, Miss Lowry?” Nora asked, tugging her shawl around her thick shoulders.
It was difficult to admit my failings—despite how obvious they were. “Nothing, Nora. All is well.” My mumbling was going to be the first thing I changed in my new life. Yet another reason not to give up. Indeed, I would starve before I relented.
Though I really hoped it would not come to that.
Patting Nora’s arm, I silently reassured her. After all my declarations that I could do this alone, I was grateful she had insisted on staying by my side. These were trying times, facing the consequences of one’s decisions. Her familiarity gave me strength.
“Oh, Nora? Please try to remember to call me Miss Palmer, remember?”
Nora seemed distracted when she answered, “It’s ‘ard to change a lifetime of habit.” She glanced warily around the cold, unfamiliar street. “We’d best be off, miss. Will we be walkin’ then?”
“I am sorry to say yes. We must be prudent until I receive my first wage.” Surely, it would not take long . . .
“But it will be dark soon, miss.” Nora hated how exposed I kept making myself.
“I know we both miss the comforts of home—my bed, Cook’s dinners, the library—”
“Carriages,” Nora added.
“Yes, especially that, but we can endure a little longer.”
“We could always write to Mr. Lowry for help.” Nora’s gray-blue eyes weren’t asking, they were begging.
I sent Nora a quelling look, one she had no doubt expected since this was the fortieth time she had offered the same suggestion. “I will not, under any circumstance, ask for monetary assistance from my brother—even if he has it in hoards.” I shook my head, pain twinging in my heart as I recalled his betrayal. “It would immediately alert him toour position, and he will whisk me back home to marry this nameless gentleman he has found for me. No, I will walk as long as it takes.”
Nora fell quiet for two blocks. I was silently bemoaning my tired feet when a groan sounded from somewhere behind me. My head whirled in every direction as I searched the muted brick-and-stone storefronts for the source of the sound. It had carried on the wind like the Ghillie Dhu from Mother’s bedtime stories. I peered in every direction, but the few people lingering in the vicinity acted as if nothing were amiss.
“What is it now?” Nora gripped my arm.
I shivered and leaned forward. “Did you hear that?”
“No, miss. I ‘eard nothin’.”
I tried to shake it off. No woodland ghoul would survive the streets of London, that I can attest. Still, I clutched my reticule tighter to my stomach. When the strange breathy sound did not return, we pressed by a sleeping haberdashery shop, the windows dark. My steps were cautious, my eyes darting up and down the cobblestone road. Despite the closed shops, a fashionable gentleman spoke to an older, equally well-dressed man on the other side of the street. Neither acted as if they had heard any strange noise.
Through a carriage window, I glimpsed a middle-aged woman with an elaborate feathered hat who must have been waiting for someone. She did not so much as glance in my direction.
“Help me.”
The words were clearer this time. Gruff but unmistakable. The sound drew my head to the alley between the haberdashery and the cobbler’s shop. Nearly hidden behind a stack of wooden crates, I could make out a partial form of a man prostrate on the ground.
