Lady in Red, Eliza Knight [have you read this book TXT] 📗

way his eyes were dark and narrowed showed her he meant business. This was not a social call.

A shiver of fear ran down her spine. Was Terrence here? Had she missed his carriage outside the building? She would have seen that—she was certain. James was here on his own, or at least she could hope he was.

“I’m afraid ye willna find him here,” she said, her spine stiffening.

“And where might Mr. Markum be?” James rolled his feet, his body bobbing like a pigeon on the flat of the ocean.

“Mummy?” Sarah questioned, sounding scared.

“’Tis all right, deary,” Elizabeth said, smoothing her daughter’s hair from her eyes. She returned her attention to James. “He resides in Kensal Green on Harlow Road, but he’s no’ accepting visitors.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” James tipped his hat. “Good day to you, Madam.”

“Best of luck,” Elizabeth called after him, trying to keep the sarcasm from her voice. She turned towards her door, opening it and shuffling Sarah inside the small room they called home.

They had a straw mattress on the floor that they shared, a chamber pot and pitcher for more private matters, and a hearth that she used for cooking and keeping them warm—which didn’t always work in the harshest winter months. But at least they were lucky not to share their small room with another family.

“Mummy, why didn’t you tell the man Papa is with the angels?” Sarah’s voice was filled with innocent confusion.

Elizabeth cringed. “He’ll find out for himself soon enough, love.” Kensel Green was a borough of London, but it also housed the public cemetery: Linden’s permanent address. “Come now, let us get some supper.”

And forget about Terrence. And Linden.

The opened window did little to stifle the room's heat, nor air the smell of rotting floorboards and mildew that permeated the whole tenement building. The scents of the city wafted through the cracked window, mingling and creating air that was almost impossible to breathe.

In the dark, laying on their thin straw mattress, Elizabeth flopped her arm over her eyes, willing sleep to come to her. Curled up beside her in the shabby bed was a sleeping Sarah, her exhales coming out in soft puffs.

A slight tapping started. Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. At first, Elizabeth ignored the noise, believing it to be outside—a bird or a loose cord hitting something with the wind propelling it to do so—but the more forceful it became, the more she realized it wasn’t random.

She sat up and stared around the pitch-black room. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. Someone was knocking at her door—lightly, but incessantly. It wasn’t that late yet, but it was certainly past visiting hours. She hoped it wasn’t Mr. or Mrs. Crum telling her Sarah could no longer stay with them during the day unless she were willing to climb chimneys. They’d been her caretakers for nearly all of her short life since Elizabeth had needed to work. She’d only been able to obtain the position with Lord Ainsley because she didn’t have to worry about Sarah, and he didn’t want his housekeeper to live in the home. None of his female servants did, and as for the males—well, Lord Ainsley had a propensity towards that gender. Elizabeth wasn’t one to judge. It was just as well for her because they likely wouldn’t have let her daughter stay with her anyway.

Panic made her tremble and sweat. As nimbly as she could, so as not to wake Sarah, Elizabeth climbed from the mattress and tugged on her robe. The worn floor creaked beneath her feet. If the Crums couldn’t work with Sarah, then Elizabeth would have to find employment elsewhere, somewhere they’d allow her to bring her daughter. They had a couple of weeks left until the rent was due again, and without another job, they’d be on the streets. And a workhouse was out of the question. She might as well sentence them both to death.

Again. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Then the door rattled as someone knocked hard instead of tapping. She hurried forward, looking back at Sarah to make certain she hadn’t stirred.

“Shh,” Elizabeth hissed, not sure if the person on the other side would even hear her. She cracked the door enough to see that it wasn’t Mr. and Mrs. Crum, but James again.

Promptly, she slammed the door shut and locked it. “Go away,” she said in a sharp whisper. “Ye’ll wake the girl.”

“I wanted to thank you for pointing me in the right direction,” James said, his voice coming muffled through the door.

“I did.” That wasn’t a lie.

“Indeed.” There was a thunk, as though James dropped something, and then silence.

Curiosity ate away at Elizabeth’s insides. Was he still there? She hadn’t heard his footsteps as he walked away. Though the man had been trained to be discreet, so he might have left. But why come back and bother her to say he’d found out that Linden was dead? What did he want?

With her ear pressed to the wood, she listened. No sound came from the other side of the door. After waiting for several nail-biting moments, Elizabeth eased open the door. James was gone, and on the floor was a brown-paper package.

Looking down the hall and into the shadowy corners to make sure she wasn’t being watched, she stooped to pick it up. Elizabeth shut the door behind her, and then rushed over to the rickety table and the two unsteady chairs to light the single, nearly gone candle. There were no oil lanterns in her tiny room; she couldn’t afford one.

Elizabeth stared for a long moment at the paper. The package was held together with loosely tied twine. Whatever was inside felt like it would change her. She was scared. Why had James left it for her? Was it a threat? Money? Goosebumps stole over her flesh, and anxiety built a heated fire in her belly.

She glanced over at Sarah, sleeping like an angel, and wanted with every ounce of her being that