“How did I survive?” he asked, relieved to finally be getting some answers. A terrible thought occurred to him, however. “I did survive, didn’t I?”
“Thanks to me, yes.” Doc advanced on him again, this time lifting his leg out from the covers. He drew it back under the quilt quickly, though not before catching a glimpse of a nasty cut. Lord only knew how far up it went. She gave an irritated grunt. “You need to let me help you. Your wounds will become infected if you don’t allow me to dress and change them.”
He held up a finger, halting her progress toward his side. “Not until you explain a few things. You have my thanks, truly, but the last thing I remember is falling from a roof. How am I not dead? And where are we? And what happened to the men who were chasing me?”
And how do I prevent them from coming back and not only finishing me off, but you as well?Because, reluctant as he was to admit it, mere robbery couldn’t explain the doggedness of their pursuit—which meant they’d intended him harm. He glanced around, inviting one, or any of the women, to speak.
They, somehow, managed a three-way glance, though no one spoke for a long while. Instead, they just stood there, toying with cuffs and fluffing aprons.
Finally, Doc broke the silence. “It appears that you’re alive thanks to a fortuitously located fruit cart—an empty one, filled with hay, as the snow was still light then.”
“Got it all over the house when we took you in,” the unnamed, grumpy woman continued. “I should never have trusted you to clean; half the time you can’t tell a broom from a bucket.” She glared at her companion, waving her hands in the air, so close to his head, he had to duck.
“Shah, she’s your sister,” Doc said, before sneezing. The grouch handed her a handkerchief, which she accepted, blowing her nose rather loudly.
“Are you all sisters?” He squinted at them. They didn’t quite look it, but he and Frederick didn’t exactly look like brothers.
“Bayla and Gertrude are, but I’m not related to them,” Doc explained, gesturing first to the cheerful woman, then the other. “We all used to work together. Gertrude did the books and Bayla assisted both of us. And we’re friends. Very good friends.” She smiled at the grumpy one—Gertrude—a gesture which her apparent friend did not return.
“But you all live together?” he asked.
“We do,” Bayla—the helper—said with a nod. “There used to be more of us, seven in total, but the others moved on to Brighton for the sea air. You’re in one of the rooms they vacated.”
“And where are we located? What part of the city?” He fisted the edge of the quilt, his eyes on Doc. “How long have I been here? And the men, my attackers, what of them?”
“We didn’t see any men lurking about when we found you after the—fall from a roof did you say? That certainly explains the extent of your injuries. We weren’t entirely sure.” Doc coughed—perhaps she was allergic to something? Hay or what have you, or maybe him, given his luck—then motioned to Bayla, who shoved another spoonful of porridge toward his mouth. “You’re in Aldgate and it’s Saturday afternoon.”
Sol waved her away as his head spun. Two days. He’d been there two days. Frederick must be worried sick.
“I should be home. My family—my friends—my employer—” Sol started, his mind overwhelmed at all he’d missed. The correspondence he owed—to clients he couldn’t upset. News of Frederick’s courtship.And Hannah. She’d soon receive his second gift, if she hadn’t already.
He pressed his fist to his lips.
Gertrude glared at him. “Your ankle is badly injured. Not broken, thankfully, but it’s still swollen. You can’t walk on it, and given the storm conditions now, it would be very unwise for you to attempt to leave the premises.”
“Storm? What storm?” he asked.
“The snowstorm,” Doc told him. “It started Friday and hasn’t stopped. It’s so bad that barely a horse, let alone a cart or carriage, can move through the streets. People have been out and about but very few. I’m sure Shabbos services were not well attended.”
“Is there any way I could get a message to them?” He needed to tell people what was happening, damn it. However, he considered his saviors and sighed. “Discreetly, of course.”
For that was the rub. What if the men were lurking about, waiting to finish him off? His mind spun and a terrible thought occurred to him. What if Frederick had been their true target? He was the more valuable of the two of them. “My brother must be warned and apprised of the situation, at a minimum.”
“Too dangerous,” Gertrude said with a shake of her head. “We’re not exactly steady on our feet and breaking a bone at our age…” She tutted a little, her expression sour. “We need to wait until the snow stops. And would your brother be about in this weather, besides?”
And now he felt guilty for asking. Especially since they were already taking quite a risk harboring him. He considered her point. Frederick was unlikely to leave the warmth, and safety, of their home if it was thatdreadful outside. Perhaps his brother was safer with less knowledge than more. At least until he could be by Frederick’s side.
“When will I be well enough to go?” he asked.
“Not for a few more days. But even for that, you’re going to need to let me help you.” Doc gave him a pointed stare.
“Fine.” He folded his arms before glancing around. “But maybe without so many people in the room?” He winced at Gertrude and Bayla’s hurt expressions. “I’m grateful for all you’ve done, really, but I’m a little…”
“Bashful?” Bayla yawned. “You really don’t have to be.” She gave him a long, lingering glance and a wink.
Oy. Sol swallowed.
“But we understand.” Gertrude physically pushed her sister out the door as she exited. “We’ll leave you to your task, Doc.” She glanced back at him. “You should listen to her. She knows what’s what. And be grateful, or you’ll be here for a long time.”
