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It gave some credence to the notion that he was a wicked man with a vendetta against the Hathway’s. That would explain why he was there.
To seduce and disgrace me.
She suppressed a shudder that was not entirely borne out of crawling horror. The idea of being ravished by such a man.
Well, it would not be ravishment if it were him. I think I would be quite compliant.
The thoughts shocked her, making her blush as she followed Ruth out of the house. Fortunately, with her back to Alice, Ruth didn’t see the deep crimson flush that had swept over Alice’s features, nor question it. A servant hailed them a cab and, together, they set off into London.
It turned out to be a pleasant day. The weather was dry and warm, though with a cooling breeze to take the edge off the summer heat. London was, by turns, grand and swaggering in squalor. Fine people shared space on the pavement with worn-looking traders and artisans and ragged-looking beggars. Animals were everywhere, either livestock, horses, dogs, cats, or squirrels.
The city looked and sounded like a living thing. And the smells were like nothing Alice had ever experienced out in the countryside. Even on a day a farmer decided to do muck spreading. It was the smell of rotting wood, damp cloth, spoiled food, and food cooked to perfection. Unwashed bodies and animal dung alongside French perfume.
“I do wish you wouldn’t stare so. You are practically hanging out of the window,” Ruth complained.
“I can’t help it. Isn’t it a grand place? I wonder how much different Rome or Paris is. Or even Berlin or Moscow? What I mean is, does London look and sound like itself, or is this what all large metropolises are like?” Alice wondered aloud.
“How on earth should I know? Frankly, it makes me never want to leave Mattingley Manor again. And if this is what all cities are like, I certainly don’t want to leave the shores of England,” Ruth said.
At a little before one, the carriage that Ruth had hired for the day, stopped outside the colonnaded entrance of the British Museum. Alice was becoming nervous, knowing that she needed to evade Ruth, lose herself for a while and find Harold. Now that she was so close to seeing him again, the excitement was making her heart flutter and her cheeks flush.
They alighted and began to walk towards the main entrance. Inside, Alice saw that her task would be easier than she had first thought. Ruth was puffing and blowing within a few minutes, seeking a bench on which to sit and recover her breath. Alice did not need to feign excitement as she, briefly, sat next to Ruth.
“Would you mind if I walked on ahead, Ruth?” she asked, practically bouncing on the seat. “I won’t go far. If we lose each other, we can always meet again here. Say, in half an hour?”
Ruth was fanning herself with a copy of the pamphlet they had been handed on entering the building, bearing a carefully drawn map of the museum. She waved Alice on.
“Yes, yes. By all means. Oh my, perhaps this wasn’t such a clever idea. I am quite worn out.”
“I’ll be back soon,” Alice promised.
Then she disappeared into the museum. Sights pulled at her attention. Fascinating exhibits, mounted on silk-covered pedestals inside glass cabinets. She was torn between perusing each one and scanning the faces of her fellow patrons, looking for Harold. As time passed, she began to lose heart. How could she find him in this mass of people. Perhaps he was waiting outside. Perhaps he had grown tired of waiting and had left.
She moved faster and faster through the maze-like halls, no longer paying attention to the exhibits at all. Finally, she came to a section cordoned off from the rest by a red silk rope. Beyond the rope were wooden screens that hid some rooms from view. A man in the uniform of a museum attendant sat at one end of the rope. He looked at her with interest as she began to hurry past. Then stood.
“Pardon me, Miss. But you have the look of a lady I was asked to look out for. Dark-haired, pretty, and in a bit of a hurry. Would you be Miss Alice Hathway?” he asked.
CHAPTER12
“How did you manage to arrange this? Are you in charge of the museum?” Alice asked.
She had been escorted beyond both silk rope and wooden screens, along a corridor, and into a room whose windows were covered. It was lit by a number of lamps, most sitting on the edge of opened crates. Scattered around the room were various pieces of Egyptian origin. One crate even seemed to contain a sarcophagus. And leaning casually against it was Harold, watching her approach with a slight smile on his lips.
“No, but I am a patron and good friends with a number of the board members,” he replied.
Digging into a waistcoat pocket, he took out a shining coin and flipped it to the attendant.
“Thank you, Peterkins.”
“Much obliged, Your Grace,” the attendant intoned, tugging at his forelock, and retreating back the way he had come.
Alice looked around the dimly lit room, marveling at the strange and exotic antiques which cluttered it. Finally, she looked up at the giant sarcophagus that loomed over Harold.
“How lucky you are. Does this mean you can come to the museum whenever you choose?”
“I have never tried. I did not think your siblings would allow you to explore the capital on your own. I thought we might need an…escape from escorts if we wished to talk privately. So, I had some words in the right ears.”
Alice laughed. She felt childlike standing in this place where members of the public were not allowed to be.
