“We cannot leave yet,” I said, though I knew not when I would be able to. Night began to crawl across the alley, and a fall chill seeped beneath my waist-long mantelet. If I was cold, this man must be far worse.
I unclasped my short cloak and spread it over him. It was a pitiful blanket for his large stature, but I hoped it would provide him some comfort. He was not calling for help any longer, but the slow fall and rise of his chest told me he still lived.
Would I be with him in his last hour? Dear me. Was that my true purpose for fleeing to London? I shook my head. This stranger would never remember me, even if I stayed by his side. As for my purpose in London, I feared I would never know the answer.
I heard the carriage wheels before I saw them. Someone was coming. My heart pounded. The dead cart . . .? They would take him away and that would be the end of him for certain. My life had been cataloged by the number of books I had read, languages I had mastered, and pillowsI had embroidered. What did it amount to if I could not do one worthy deed?
Let them come. I had not managed to find my own husband or secure work, but I would not fail this time.
I would not let them take him.
Chapter 4
Estelle
Istood, legs shaking, and hurried toward the road. But it was not a cart as I had imagined. It was the driver from before, with the same obscure carriage. Relief and wariness struck me at once. I dared not ask for help again after being refused already. But why had they returned? Had the lady with the feathered hat had a change of heart?
“Miss?” the driver called to me, nervously fingering his russet facial hair. “Is the man still alive?”
“He was when I left his side.”
“The name’s Michael Harvel. I’ve returned to help. I haven’t much time, seeing as I borrowed the carriage without asking. Once we get him inside, we can bring him to the nearest hospital.”
Even I had heard horrible stories about the London hospitals—they smelled of death and bred disease. “Will they have room for him?”
Mr. Harvel alighted from the carriage, and I was taken back by his size. I had not noticed before, or had reason to, but he was large enough to carry the injured man. He nodded to my hospital observation. “I heard the beds are full, but they might find him a corner to rest in.”
“Just a corner?” I sputtered. “This man is half dead already. Can you not take him to your home until he recovers?”
The driver shook his head. “No, miss. My wife is increasing and the babe could come at any time. She cannot manage the children and a stranger.”
No, that would not do. But neither could this stranger go to the hospital if he wanted a fighting chance. I squared my shoulders. “Then he must come home with me, Mr. Harvel.” I said the words before I had thought them through, but the driver hurried past me to carry out my instruction. Of course, I could not bring him home. I was an unmarried woman.
Anxiety poured through me. But hadn’t I promised to give the stranger everything I had if I was given a miracle? And wasn’t this driver and the use of his carriage a miracle?
Good heavens. Perhaps I ought to employ a few prayers to save me from ruination should I be discovered. There was no one besides Nora to talk me out of my foolish idea of carting a man home with me, which did not mean much—bless her soul. Who knew what I was capable of with my newfound independence.
A half hour later, the unmarked carriage pulled up to Fairview House where Mr. Harvel went ahead to secure a second set of rooms under the name of Mr. Long. Apparently, I was not the best for coming up with names on the spot. I figured I could afford a second set of rooms for at least two weeks. I would need to secure work by then or I would be cast out on the streets, or worse, forced to write to my brother for aid.
Nora kept her eyes averted from Mr. Long’s bare ankles and feet. The rest of him was covered with Mr. Harvel’s cloak. “Surely, there are better ways to secure a carriage ride home than this, miss.”
I bit back my smile and thought to tease her. “Shall I lend him my stockings? Would that help your sensibilities?”
“Good heavens, no! Upon my ‘onor, I will never complain about walkin’ again.”
I patted her shoulder and draped a portion of my abundant petticoats across his feet to hide them from view.
Mr. Harvel returned, and we mutually decided discretion was of utmost importance.
“It’s better not to shock our proprietor or the other residents of Fairview House,” I told them.
Mr. Harvel helped me down from the carriage. “Or worse, lead them to assume we’re hiding a dead body.”
“Oh, dear. I did not think of that.” I said a few more heavenly pleas over that thought. I was surely on the way to sainthood with all my praying on this unforeseen night.
With a little waiting and watching, we managed our mission successfully without any witnesses. Correction, there was one witness, but it was only of my humiliation. Mr. Harvel suggested I feign a faint to get past the proprietor. Any curiosity about life as an actress on the stage was stamped out of me in less than thirty seconds. Mr. Harvel was right, however. It was the perfect distraction.
Once Mr. Harvel had Mr. Long laid out on his bed, Mr. Harvel promised to return later to leave some men’s clothing for him. If the condition of the driver’s clothes were proof of anything, he did not have much to spare. I stood at the door to Mr. Long’s room and inclined my head to thank Mr. Harvel. “I am eternally grateful to you, Mr. Harvel.”
