Sleepyhead, my friend called me, and I was, from tending to the ‘ladies’ and their gentlemen callers late into the night.
‘Ye must wake up. girl.’
“Dory?”
I slowly opened my eyes, and she was there standing by the window as I fought my way up out of the dream. The air sparkled in the beam of light that slanted through the smudged glass and surrounded her. She turned and looked at me.
‘Ye canna sleep now. There are things ye must do. Things ye must know... dangerous things. Ye must be careful!’
“What things? Dory?” I searched the room.
It seemed so real, as if she was there. A dream? Or something more?
There was no one at the window, only that pale light, the stillness of the morning broken by the distant sound of a vendor on the street below, and from the kitchen beyond the door.
I dressed for the day. I thanked Elizabeth for the supper the night before.
“Not that ye touched it,” she commented, not unkindly. “Breakfast then, more than just coffee. Yet need to have food in yer stomach, girl.”
I ate the biscuit and ham she placed before me.
"I heard ye call out. A dream with all that's happened?" she added.
Was it a dream, I thought?
“I suppose that ye will be returnin’ to London now,” she went on as she poured more coffee, then sat across from me at the table.
I shook my head.
“There are things I need to do. I will be meeting with Inspector Landry this morning.” She nodded.
“I thought as much. Ye should know that the room is yours for as long as ye need.”
I had asked wot she rented it for when she first offered it to me. I refused to accept charity or be a burden.
“A burden?” she had exclaimed at the time. “’Tis no burden. It’s pleasing to have someone about.”
At the time we had agreed on a shilling per week.
I laid a shilling and several more smaller coins on the table before leaving for my meeting with Inspector Landry.
“For the supper and breakfast this morning as well,” I explained.
She nodded, though I sensed the money was of minor importance as she laid a hand against my cheek in parting. I was not used to such displays.
“There are those, the old ones,” a soft smile curved her lips as she explained, “who believe dreams are real, that they are things that are passed on from spirits. Of course, not many believe in such things anymore.”
Was it a dream? Or nothing more than the horror of arriving in Edinburgh to find my friend had been murdered?
I tried to make sense of it as I rode to the police station where I was to meet Inspector Landry.
All I knew was that it had seemed real. As if Dory was there in the room, determined to warn me, keep me safe as she had years before atThe Church.
But to warn me about...what?
“Miss?” the driver called down from atop the coach, bringing me back from my thoughts.
I stepped down from the coach and paid the driver, then entered the police station. As I had the day before, I gave the constable at the front desk my name and informed him that I was to meet with Inspector Landry. I waited on a bench seat in the foyer.
