And, if it wasn’t… Broderick’s eyes traversed the room. The fire poker rested in the corner, just by the door. All he needed to do was reach for it. There was no fireplace in his wagon, but that wasn’t the reason he’d kept it there anyway.
Ewing got up. His body was slumped forward, not as much as Broderick’s, but enough to make him appear slightly crooked. He appeared to be carrying a heavy burden on the left side of his body, so he perpetually kept adjusting his own balance, but never quite managing to do so. He made two steps, aided by the cane, and then caged the coin purse with his greedy hand.
“It’s all I ‘ave,” Broderick hissed through clenched teeth.
“I doubt yer’ tellin’ the truth, but I’ll take what ya ‘ave.”
Broderick swallowed heavily. Sure, he had more. But those were for rainy days. And, right now, it was pouring. He needed all he could get his hands on before the star of the show returned. Then, life would continue as always. As it should.
Ewing quickly pocketed the coins but didn’t say anything. For a moment, Broderick thought he was being swindled. He was a second away from grabbing this crook by the throat and squeezing him, until the last breath left his body. He extended his hand towards the poker, but then saw Ewing’s lips finally move.
“She be… at Hudson Estate,” Ewing spoke slowly, clearing his throat. “She - “
But, a sudden bout of coughing assailed him, and he bent over trying to calm down the onslaught, which left him breathless. Broderick waited, impassive. Detached. Expressionless.
The last thing he needed now was for Ewing to drop dead in his wagon, but Broderick didn’t care. He had the information he was looking for. Whatever else Ewing had to say wasn’t important. He could drop dead for all he cared. Even better. He’d get his hands on his money again.
Ewing managed to catch his breath, still struggling. He straightened his back, as much as he could, then continued.
“She be a governess there,” Ewing explained, wheezing. He was still breathing heavily, and Broderick wondered if Ewing was sick. He sure sounded it.
“A governess?” Broderick snapped. “Who woulda taken her in!?”
Broderick slammed his fist against the table so hard, he felt the table wobble. It was unthinkable. Rosalie with a proper job, a job for normal people. She wasn’t normal. She would never be normal, no matter what she did or said. He had spent years reminding her of this, filling her pretty little head with fear of the world and the monsters that reigned there. Yet she still escaped him. Him, who only wanted to keep her safe.
His head started to spin. He was hoping she was still out there. Cold, hungry, no roof over her head. He wanted to see her broken, begging. Instead, it was exactly the opposite. She was doing better than with him. She probably spent her days smiling, happy.
He started grinding his teeth, feeling jealousy and envy overtake him. His blood boiled. His own skin felt two sizes too small, and he wanted to rip it off of himself, like an old coat.
“Edmund Spencer, the Earl of Hudson,” Ewing added, but Broderick knew this already.
Slithering like a snake in the grass, a plan was hatching inside his head. A plan that was sure to work. He would show them all that they hadn’t heard the last of Broderick Loveless yet. Especially her.
“Get yer money and get the Hell out,” Broderick hissed at the man he once considered a friend, his index finger aimed at the door which stood ajar. “Our business be done.”
Ewing said nothing. He dragged his worn-out body past Broderick, who felt a sudden urge to attack Ewing, to take his money back. But he resisted it, even though that snake kept on talking into his ear.
Take yer money. Take it. Take it.
Despite the silent urging, Broderick remained motionless. He listened to the door close, then he latched it. He didn’t need any more surprises this evening. One was more than enough.
Ewing had provided him with priceless information. He could not have obtained it otherwise. If the freaks knew anything, they’d surely never tell. No matter what he did to them. They were all in cahoots. And that was how they would remain.
All he needed to do was get Rosalie back, and his money woes would be over. He would be counting coins well into the night, as he did before, enjoying the sound which would lull him to blissful sleep.
But, before that, he would walk into her wagon in the middle of the night, like he owned the place, because he bloody well did. And, this time, he wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.
Chapter 18
Only a day had passed since their arranged meeting in the garden, and Edmund couldn’t take his mind off of Rosalie. Truth be told, she had visited his dreams as well as his waking hours far before that, but it was the moment when he laid his lips on her hand that seemed to awaken the final realization. The realization he had been trying to fight off for some time now. The realization that threatened to change the very essence of his life, and with it, his future.
However, that realization also brought forth a sense of peace. A sense of happiness. He could almost feel a secret compartment of his heart burst open, as if someone had finally found the key and without even knowing it, unlocked the door.
He glanced at the luxurious, royal blue box which rested on his writing desk. It was closed, but he knew well what it contained. His quill pen and papers lay next to it, neatly aligned. He was too distracted for his morning correspondence, so he did not even endeavor to commence. He had more urgent matters to attend to. Crucial matters, in fact.
Edmund had always been at ease with business affairs. He knew how to speak to men. He knew how they would react. He also knew how to work his ideas into their reasoning. But the mind of a woman was a mystery to him. Her heart even more so.
What do I say?He wondered, as he paced the room.
