Page 108 of The Little Shop of Curiosities, The Music Box Part 2

I don’t have time to take inventory of what hasn’t changed, however, because Cornelius encourages us to follow Ichabod, and so we do, up to the second floor and along a narrow corridor lit by gas lighting and carpeted in a deep crimson. Although my feet are still too numb to feel the thick weave.

Ichabod stops beside a door and opens it. “Here you’ll find the water closest.”

I almost cry in relief.

“You alright, Prickles?” Sam says beside me, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. “You have tears in your eyes.”

“A flushing toilet,” I breathe reverently, “and a bath.”

My gaze skims over the walls of dark green subway tiles and the black-and-white patterned floor to the deep porcelain clawfoot bathtub with shiny brass taps. A matching white pedestal sink sits beside it, and next to that is a toilet with a wall-mounted water tank and a pull chain.

“Running water is available for the bathtub, but it’s cold,” Ichabod continues. “Any hot water must be heated in the kitchen and carried up.” He eyes our dirty feet and wrinkles his nose. “I’ll bring you some linens so you can wash up, but given the late hour, you’ll have to make do with cold water.”

“Cold water is fine,” Sam says hurriedly as I open my mouth.

Ichabod nods and then continues on. Sam gives me a little nudge and I take one last longing look at the bathroom before I move along. We stop beside another door, and this time Ichabod opens it and walks inside, leaving us to follow.

It’s a bedroom, with neatly made metal-framed twin beds. In the corner is a chair, a dresser, and a desk.

“I’ll see to the linens,” he says, and disappears back out of the room, leaving us with Cornelius. He studies the pair of us, although I’m not sure what he sees. His lips are pursed as if weighing his next words.

“You are safe here,” he finally says. “We have a small staff. Lord Francis is somewhat gifted when it comes to finding staff that are not only discreet but…sympathetic to certain unusual living situations, shall we say, and shares that gift with those who are lucky enough to call him their friend.”

It’s then that I understand what a big risk Cornelius is taking, a risk that Sam obviously has figured out as well based on his slight nod at Cornelius’ words.

This man has let a pair of complete strangers into his inner sanctum, strangers that pose real danger to him and the person he loves if we’re not who we say we are. We need to give him something to level the playing field and show him that we have as much to lose as he does if any of us are discovered.

Sam lifts his hand and cups my jaw, drawing me in, then gives me a kiss. One that leaves no doubt whatsoever to the nature of our relationship, rocky as it may currently be. It also, if I’m being honest, makes me feel a little better.

When I pull back and turn to Cornelius, he’s watching us intently.

“Harrison and I are not just lovers, we’re together,” Sam tells him bluntly as he takes my hand and links our fingers. “We appreciate the trust you’re putting in us, bringing us into your home, protecting us, and we want you to know we’ll do the same for you. I hope at some point you’ll realise you can trust us.”

Cornelius stares at our joined hands and considers Sam’s words, then finally nods. “Like I said, we have a small staff. A cook, Mary, and a maid, Sarah. They…share a room in the servants’ quarters on the third floor.”

With the way he slightly emphasises the word share, I’m pretty sure I’m picking up what he’s putting down, if what he’s putting down is a Virginia Woolf novel.

“As far as the outside world is concerned, Ichabod is my valet.”

We both nod as Ichabod re-enters the room carrying two neatly folded—I don’t know, they look like tablecloths, but I think they’re supposed to be towels.

I guess one of the first things I’m going to miss is my Egyptian cotton super-pile towels from John Lewis, but I at least have access to a mostly functional bathroom, so I can’t complain.

Ichabod sets the flat towels on the edge of one bed and lights the small coal fire, laid ready in the bedroom fireplace’s grate.

“I’ll bring you both some appropriate clothing in the morning.” Ichabod’s gaze sweeps over us, pausing once again at our bare feet. “Please do wash up before you retire.”

I can hear the unspoken don’t get your dirty feet all over the clean sheets and almost smile. Once he gets past his justified suspicion of us, he and I will get on extremely well.

“We’ll bid you goodnight,” Cornelius says.

“Goodnight,” Sam says politely, “and thank you.”

Cornelius nods and they exit the room, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

I sway slightly from the exhaustion that seeps down to my bones.

“Come on, Prickles,” Sam says, removing his overcoat and helping me with mine. He picks up what apparently passes for towels in this place. “You need rest. You’re still suffering the effects of being stabbed.”