Drew studied the outside of the shop, weighing prudence against necessity. The shop had a cheerful striped awning over a crooked stoop, the canvas now coursing rainwater onto a pair of statues guarding the door. The statues appeared to be a matched set of stone mice, rearing up on their hind legs, holding chestnuts.
To the left of one statue was an old bath chair, a potted rosebush in the seat. Beside the other statue, leaning on its side, was the brightly painted wheel of a wagon. The length of the storefront was littered with similarly mismatched detritus from daily life, most of it at least fifty years old. Drew saw well-loved baby dolls, their dresses translucent in the rain; earthenware bowls, overflowing with water; a pickax; another rosebush; a miniature Tudor mansion, with a thatched roof and a chimney, which could only be used to house a dog.
Drew looked right and left, making sure she was alone. Was the storefront a guise for something more sinister? She looked again. It did not appear sinister, and Drew was nothing if not an expert on shopping. Given better circumstances, she should like to take the twins here.
The inside of the shop glowed through the window from bright lantern light. Merchandise crowded the large front window. Deeper inside, Drew could just make out a man behind a counter, scribbling notations in a book.
She was just about to knee the mare closer to the window, when a boom of thunder sounded, startling the horse. Drew took it as a sign. She’d hesitated long enough. She needed help, and here was a reasonable-looking person in a ?. ?. ?. if notreasonable-looking shop, at least a shop with no clear threat. There would be no safer place to appeal this night, and she knew it.
Dismounting without a groom or a block wanted considerable effort. The cold and wet had fused her to the saddle and the horse danced nervously as Drew disentangled herself from the leather straps, pulling heavily to the mare’s right flank. Ultimately, her hand slipped, her glove was a useless mush of sodden kid, and she toppled from the horse into the mud. One shoe hung in the stirrup, and she had the foresight to kick her foot from her slipper rather than snap her ankle as her body made it’s ungraceful decent to the ground.
“Ouch,” she moaned, forcing herself to get up and calm the skittery animal. Her slipper, she was disappointed to see, had ripped in two when she’d kicked it off, split open by a sharp point on the hobble strap.
What did it matter now? she thought. The satin shoes had been useless in the rain. Her feet would be blue, she could barely feel them in the cold. She left the useless slipper hanging from the saddle and limped across the street to the shop.
“Hello?” she called cautiously, sticking her head in the door. It was warm inside, and it smelled of freshly baked bread.
“Hallo!” called a friendly voice from behind a wide counter. It was the man she’d seen through the window, now obscured by a giant cactus growing from a basket on the floor.
“But are you open, sir?” Drew hovered in the doorway. Her cloak alone weighed two stone, it was so very wet. She would leave a puddle deep enough for fishing.
“Yes, I am!” came the voice. “A quarter hour, I’d say, before I close up for the night. You’ve caught me just in time. How can I be of service?”
“Ah, I hesitate to come inside, because I’m so very wet. I may spoil your floors.”
“Never you fear, madam. The first thing I do upon closing is clean the showroom, top to bottom. What you see now is the dirt and grime of a busy workday. If you intend to make a mess, you’ve come at absolutely the best time.”
Drew considered this. It would be impossible to overstate how very wet she was. She could not have been wetter if she was swimming at the bottom of the sea. But also, why had she just thrown herself from her horse if not to get in out of the storm and seek help?
“Thank you so much,” she said, stepping in. The showroom, as he’d called it, was a hodgepodge of books, old furnishings, taxidermized animals, stacks of textiles, paintings of farm animals, model ships, and bowls of fruit all stacked and leaned and piled at odd angles. She stepped carefully, trying not to topple a tower of mismatched china plates or drip rainwater on the skirts of a hanging emerald ball gown.
“I’m afraid I haven’t any money to make a purchase, sir. I... I find myself in the unfortunate position of being lost in an unfamiliar part of town. The storm, as you can see, is growing worse, seemingly by the minute, and my horse is spooked and nearly spent. I fear we’re riding in circles. Can you... can you...”
And Drew realized she had no idea what she meant to ask this man todo.
If she had visions of him leaping forth, whipping off his jacket, offering shelter, offering tea, dispatching a servant to notify her family—she was sorely mistaken. He stood, smiling behind his counter, waiting patiently for her to... to...
What did he expect her to do? Surely not browse the merchandise and buy some antiquity? Here? Now?
She cleared her throat. “But would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?”
“Oh certainly, madam,” he boomed. “This is my shop, world-renowned as such, ‘Godfrey’s Treasure Trove.’ Mr. Godfrey, at your service.”
“Right,” she said. “How do you do? Forgive me, but I meant, inwhatlocation have I found myself?”
“Of course,” said Mr. Godfrey. “But you are inLondon, madam, one of the finest cities in the world.”
“Yes, I am aware that I am in London—” she lifted a sodden lock of orange hair from her face “—but can you tell mewhichpart?”
“Which part...” he repeated speculatively, looking to the ceiling. “I’d say we are in the vicinity of Shadwell-Whitehall-Whapping-Poplar? Or thereabouts? If you want to put a very fine point on it.”
Drew blinked at him. She’d become very familiar with London these last few years because of her passion for birding. She’d taken hackney cabs to the many diverse habitats all over the city and surrounding countryside. The man had just named four regions that could easily amount to five square miles.
“Right,” she said. “But do you happen to know where I might seek out some assistance? A church, perhaps? Or a parish hall?”
“For that...” he said, speculating again, “...I have no good answer. I do apologize. I have the great fortune of owning various shopsthroughoutthe city, and this happens to be one of my newer, more far-flung locations. Regrettably, I’ve not had the opportunity to learn the neighborhood. Or meet the neighbors.”
What?thought Drew, barely able to comprehend.
