The moment they’re out of sight I bolt out the doors, fueled by panic…and by blinding anger at Sabine and at the men who bow to her wishes. Our lives are at their mercy.
I stand outside and catch my breath for a heart-pounding moment. I’ve escaped this arrest, but Sabine is everywhere. Sabine and AJ Winthrop, for he will find me. He’ll always know where to look, for he knows what I love most.
What will ever become of me?
“Mr. Linwood?” I sit up and blink in the dark of night, forcing my eyes to adjust. Bars. Why are there bars? As I look around, myheart plummets. A tiny, threadbare cot, a blanket, and a bucket for my waste. A tin cup with brown-looking water.
No.They found me.
Eric Linwood’s sad face shows in the moonlight. “It seems Sabine’s bagged another.”
No. No, she hasn’t. This can’t be happening.
Cecil’s father is worn down to a stooped old man with eyes that bulge in a skeletal face. But what horrifies me is that this is what I will become.
I put my hand through the bars and he takes it. His fingers are calloused, scabbed where he’s bitten the ends. “How are you?” I ask, but the answer is hauntingly clear on his gaunt face.
He looks away. “My Cecil. How is he?”
I’m shaking. “He’s…” Lost. Terrified. Tormented. “I’m going to take care of him.” I don't know how, but I must.
His face eases into a natural smile. The tics release their hold and he exhales. “He’ll be all right, then.”
“Lady St. Laurent is gone. And Sabine…Sabine—”
“Take care of my boy.”
I cling to the bars as he turns away. Cold air sweeps up between us and he’s leaving me alone here. Leaving me to face this and figure a way out.
I call out, but a great rumbling shakes the building. A horn blares and I’m seized with panic. I pull at the bars, but they crumble in my hands. The room falls away and there’s another jolt—the train.
I’m on the train.
It was a dream. Anightmare. The haunting of what could be. Using a precious sixpence from Laura’s remaining coins, I order tea and meat pie from a passing cart and attempt to eat as the train carries me further from Cecil. There’s only one place I might possibly find protection…and guidance. But I desperatelywish to turn back and take that boy in my arms, carrying him away from there and hiding him away forever.
I see the haunting face of Cecil’s father when I blink.Take care of my boy.
If only I knew how.
Chapter 34
WhenIwalkintoHenry Gould’s office the following afternoon, his papers hit the floor—a giant splash of important-looking documents that drop from his hands at the sight of me. I try not to weep at the sheer joy of having one person in my corner, fighting for me with nothing to gain from it. “They won’t let me near him.”
“You’re—by jolly, you’realive!” He crosses the strewn papers and embraces me. I stiffen at the familiarity, but no one outside his office seems to notice. He pushes me back by the shoulders, turning stern father. “You’re in heaps of trouble. Have you any idea what you’ve gone and done?”
“Yes, I’ve broken a promise to a small boy, and I’ve no idea how to fix it.” Sabine St. Laurent won’t leave any loophole for me to pull. But the terrible reality of it—and how I wish I can tell them this—is that Sabine doesn’t even want Cecil. That bright and precious child with the elfin ears was a means to an end for her.
But to me, heisthe end. With all the time to think on the train, I’m sure of only one thing:heis the goal worth fightingfor. Of all the people who chased my heart in the last years, he is the only one who deserves it. The only one who has it in full, and who asks nothing in return. Oh, to wrap him up and hold him steady. To hear his eloquent little voice, and to earn that bright boyish smile reserved for genuinely happy times.
“Merryn, you must gather your senses.” Mr. Gould shuffles together the papers on the floor. “There’s something I must tell you. Has anyone seen you? And Ansel. Has he—”
“Tried to kill me? Yes. But not recently.”
He firmly closes his mouth, which gratifies me. It’s rare.
I straighten. “That first wife…he didn’t kill her. Not all the way. Indeed, you are looking at her.”
He drops the papers onto his desk. “Mrs. Ansel Winthrop.Youare—”
