“I think there is more to it than that.”
Fredrick didn’t want to know what Roswell meant by that so he turned his attention towards the window. He saw- and smelled- the moment they started to venture into the rookeries. The buildings grew darker and appeared increasingly dilapidated. The air itself seemed to hold a mugginess, a pungent blend of excrement and an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.
The coach came to a stop in front of a tavern that held a crooked sign above it that identified it as The Rusty Anchor Tavern.
They exited the coach and stepped inside the tavern. The patrons in the dark, crowded hall barely gave them any notice as they drank while sitting around the round tables.
Roswell pointed towards a table in the corner and said, “Let’s go sit down.”
They made their way towards the table and a dark-haired young woman approached them. Her hair was pulled back into a tight chignon and she had an apron tied around her waist, concealing her worn green gown.
“What can I get you, gentlemen?” she asked.
“Two ales,” Roswell replied, “and some information.” He removed a gold coin from his waistcoat pocket and slid it towards her. “I need to know if someone was in here a few days ago.”
The young woman regarded him with a solemn expression, yet her eyes betrayed a lingering sense of suspicion. “Why do you need to know?”
“My friend has gone missing, and I need to find him,” Roswell replied.
“I can’t help you,” she replied. “But a word to the wise, I would leave here and not come back. You don’t belong here.”
Roswell lifted his brow. “And you do?”
“More so than you,” the young woman replied before she turned to leave.
“Please,” Roswell said. “Will you not at least hear me out?”
The young woman stopped and faced him. “Very well,” she replied. “What do you wish to ask me?”
Leaning forward, Roswell replied, “I am looking for a gentleman that came through here less than a week ago.”
“We don’t get very many gentlemen here,” the young woman said. “Can you describe him?”
“He has dark hair and would have been dressed in a similar fashion as me, despite being a gentleman,” Roswell replied. “He wouldn’t have caused any trouble.”
The young woman pressed her lips together before saying, “I’m sorry.” She placed her finger on the coin and slid it back towards Roswell. “As I said before, I can’t help you, but don’t give up hope. I’m sure your friend will come home soon.”
Fredrick considered the young woman for a moment. Her speech and mannerisms marked her as a genteel woman, making him consider what hardships she had endured to end up being a serving wench at a tavern in the rookeries.
As the young woman walked away from their table, Fredrick leaned closer to his brother and asked, “Did something seem off about the serving wench?”
Roswell gave him a blank look. “I didn’t notice anything.”
That is when Fredrick realized that his brother wasn’t thinking clearly, and that could get him killed.
Chapter Six
Emilia watched as Lily’s eyes darted around the drawing room, and she wished there was something to do that might calm her friend’s nerves.
“I shouldn’t be in here,” Lily said in a hushed voice.
“You have every right to be in here,” Emilia asserted.
Lily pulled a needle through the fabric and sighed. “This place is too fancy,” she said. “I feel as if I will dirty it just by my essence.”
“That is ridiculous and not the least bit true.”
Lowering the fabric to her lap, Lily remarked, “I need to learn how to become a lady’s maid but I can’t do that if I spend all my time with you.”
