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“I have no intention of going it alone. I am simply collecting information.”
He nodded. “Just remember what I said. Be careful. Everywhere is not the same as Mayfair.”
After bidding him goodbye, Orris climbed in the carriage to begin the journey home. She was near certain Harper would relate the details to Samuel, but she would share with Violetta, Myrtle, and Gladys. Hopefully, before the word got back to them.
Even as she resolved to be true to herself, she glanced up at the sun through the carriage window. It was still early in the day. The sun was still out. She was not alone. And her groomsman driving the carriage was indeed bulky.
Rapping against the top of the carriage, she yelled through the window. “Driver, take me to Whitechapel, please.”
There was a long pause, and it even felt as though the wheels were slowing. Finally, he spoke. “Yes, miss.”
It would be a quick trip and no one would be the wiser, she resolved.
She wouldn’t even be missed.
At least, she hoped she wouldn’t be.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Samuel had been so assured that none of the Gray women would be able to intervene. He promised he had not shared a single word of their plan to locate someone who knew of this Easton character. That they knew nothing of his plans.
Barrett’s people had directed them to a street merchant who sold meat pasties in the street. Abram had gone there immediately, fully aware she moved about Whitechapel and that he would have to seek her out. Orris had no idea how to navigate the city. It should have taken her days, even weeks, to even think of where to go.
All of those variables led him to believe Orris would be safely removed from the situation. Why, then, was he staring at her in the brightest-pink dress moving about the city as if she thought she were somehow blending in with the environment? She stuck out like a thoroughbred in a pasture full of mules.
He stepped around several deadly-looking characters who were already sizing her up and moved toward her as swiftly as she could. Where was her carriage? He hoped she had not been dropped off and left to her own devices. As much as he thought she was not safe, he wondered if he should be more worried over the citizens of Whitechapel.
As he drew closer, he heard her speaking to a woman selling some type of pie. He did not want to startle her, so he made sure to remain outside her line of sight.
“Where might I find a Mrs. Easton, or perhaps a family member by the name of Grady? Grady Easton,” she said.
Once he was close enough to her, he grabbed her by the arm. “Excuse me, would you mind coming with me?” he asked in a huff.
She yanked away from him, whirled on him, and punched him straight in the side. “Oy, my God,” she exclaimed.
He could not focus on her anymore, as his vision had gone bleary. She had managed to hit him so viciously, he’d lost his breath for a moment. How on earth had someone so tiny managed to gain the upper hand against him?
A round of cheers went up all around them. “So happy I could amuse you,” he bit out through the blinding pain.
“Abram, goodness. You should know better than to sneak up on someone like that,” she scolded. She moved toward him and placed a hand on his back as he bent over, hands on his knees, heaving.
She was chastising him when she was the one wandering around wearing a dress that screamed, Please… pick my pockets. “Orris, we have to leave.”
“‘We’? Is it ‘we’ now? Since you absconded into the night without even so much as a goodbye.”
Abram righted himself, though his side still ached a bit from her punch. “Where on earth did you learn to hit someone like that?”
“My father told me there are two places to hit a man. Just be thankful I picked that one,” she said.
“Miss? There is a woman down the street by the name of Easton. I weren’t going to share it wit’ ya, until I saw what you could do with yer fists. With a punch like that, you might want to enter a pugilist contest.” A harsh laugh escaped the stranger as she pointed down the street.
“Do not encourage her,” Abram said. “Come on, Orris. Since you’re here, you might as well come with me. For my own safety.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she said. She pulled against him as he tried to guide her through the crowds by the arm.
“It means I may leak blood for the next week should you hit me again.” Abram thought he spotted the woman who had been pointed out just a few carts ahead.
There were many people who bought food whenever there was a meager break in their day at the factories. The streets were lined with several merchants looking to peddle their wares, be it food, counterfeit jewelry, or anything else that could be easily grabbed along the way home by the thousands of laborers.