Claire would be waiting.
But he could not escape the sensation of being watched.
• • •
W HENEVER H ENRY M AYHEW entered Trafalgar Square, his gaze traveled to Nelson’s Column and the statue of the man at the top. Henry had always wondered who that man was and where he was going. He had one foot out as if he was about to step off the column into midair. It worried him that the man might topple from his perch and hurt himself. It made no sense for anyone to be so high up there against the sky. He could see the moon rising behind the statue, moving in tiny increments that were only visible because the column remained stationary.
Oliver swooped in from somewhere to the east and made a great show of landing on Henry’s shoulder. His wings brushed against Henry’s cheek. He reached up and rubbed the tickle out of his skin, then stroked the bird’s feathered head, ran his fingertips over Oliver’s black beak. The bird nuzzled his hand, looking for food, then flew away to the top of a lamppost at the southeast corner of the square. Henry smiled and followed him. He fished a key out of his pocket and inserted it into a keyhole in an almost invisible door. The door swung open to reveal a space barely large enough for two people to stand in, perfectly sized for Henry’s giant frame.
He took a few kernels of dried corn from the ledge that ran along the inside wall of the post and held them up outside. Oliver flew down and perched on his arm, snatched at the corn. His beak was sharp, but it only whispered against the palm of Henry’s hand as he ate. When the corn was gone, Oliver flew back to the top of the lamppost and began the long process of preening his feathers, preparing for sleep. Henry murmured good-night and glanced around the square once more before closing the door and settling in.
• • •
C LAIRE D AY HESITATED in the kitchen door, but didn’t enter. She imagined a body lying on the floor, a blue uniform soaked in blood. She blinked and the body was gone, replaced by gleaming wooden planks. She shuddered. The kitchen maid saw her there and smiled at her, raised an inquiring eyebrow. Claire shook her head and turned and went down the hallway, passed the front room without looking in, and crept quietly up the stairs to the nursery.
She held up a finger to quiet the nanny, then picked up the book she had left there and sat in the rocking chair next to the twins’ cradle. She peered over the high railing at them. They slept curled together, touching each other’s faces with their tiny chubby fingers, their round stomachs rising and falling. A silvery string of spit flowed down one of their chins, soaking the blanket their heads rested on. Claire used the back of her finger to stroke the drooling baby’s cheek. She snagged the runner of drool and wiped it away. She felt calm now. She only needed to be near her girls, to blot out everything in the world but them.
With her free hand, she opened to a page in
A Child’s Garden of Verses
and she tried to read, but the words blurred and disappeared. The nanny moved about at the far end of the nursery, folding the endless supply of little towels they used throughout the day, but Claire took no notice of her.
Her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep with her hand still draped over the side of the cradle.
• • •
R ETIRED I NSPECTOR A UGUSTUS M C K RAKEN stood on the porch at 184 Regent’s Park Road and watched the street. His eyes felt gritty in their sockets and his legs were like rubber. He wasn’t a young man anymore. Sometime soon he would need to sleep. But not yet, and hopefully not until he received some news about Jack the Ripper. He could hold out a bit longer. There were many men out looking for that fiend, and as much as McKraken wanted to join the hunt, he knew he was doing good work here protecting the Day family from harm. He leaned against the front wall and closed his eyes for just a moment,
But he could not escape the sensation of being watched.
• • •
W HENEVER H ENRY M AYHEW entered Trafalgar Square, his gaze traveled to Nelson’s Column and the statue of the man at the top. Henry had always wondered who that man was and where he was going. He had one foot out as if he was about to step off the column into midair. It worried him that the man might topple from his perch and hurt himself. It made no sense for anyone to be so high up there against the sky. He could see the moon rising behind the statue, moving in tiny increments that were only visible because the column remained stationary.
Oliver swooped in from somewhere to the east and made a great show of landing on Henry’s shoulder. His wings brushed against Henry’s cheek. He reached up and rubbed the tickle out of his skin, then stroked the bird’s feathered head, ran his fingertips over Oliver’s black beak. The bird nuzzled his hand, looking for food, then flew away to the top of a lamppost at the southeast corner of the square. Henry smiled and followed him. He fished a key out of his pocket and inserted it into a keyhole in an almost invisible door. The door swung open to reveal a space barely large enough for two people to stand in, perfectly sized for Henry’s giant frame.
He took a few kernels of dried corn from the ledge that ran along the inside wall of the post and held them up outside. Oliver flew down and perched on his arm, snatched at the corn. His beak was sharp, but it only whispered against the palm of Henry’s hand as he ate. When the corn was gone, Oliver flew back to the top of the lamppost and began the long process of preening his feathers, preparing for sleep. Henry murmured good-night and glanced around the square once more before closing the door and settling in.
• • •
C LAIRE D AY HESITATED in the kitchen door, but didn’t enter. She imagined a body lying on the floor, a blue uniform soaked in blood. She blinked and the body was gone, replaced by gleaming wooden planks. She shuddered. The kitchen maid saw her there and smiled at her, raised an inquiring eyebrow. Claire shook her head and turned and went down the hallway, passed the front room without looking in, and crept quietly up the stairs to the nursery.
She held up a finger to quiet the nanny, then picked up the book she had left there and sat in the rocking chair next to the twins’ cradle. She peered over the high railing at them. They slept curled together, touching each other’s faces with their tiny chubby fingers, their round stomachs rising and falling. A silvery string of spit flowed down one of their chins, soaking the blanket their heads rested on. Claire used the back of her finger to stroke the drooling baby’s cheek. She snagged the runner of drool and wiped it away. She felt calm now. She only needed to be near her girls, to blot out everything in the world but them.
With her free hand, she opened to a page in
A Child’s Garden of Verses
and she tried to read, but the words blurred and disappeared. The nanny moved about at the far end of the nursery, folding the endless supply of little towels they used throughout the day, but Claire took no notice of her.
Her breathing evened out and she drifted off to sleep with her hand still draped over the side of the cradle.
• • •
R ETIRED I NSPECTOR A UGUSTUS M C K RAKEN stood on the porch at 184 Regent’s Park Road and watched the street. His eyes felt gritty in their sockets and his legs were like rubber. He wasn’t a young man anymore. Sometime soon he would need to sleep. But not yet, and hopefully not until he received some news about Jack the Ripper. He could hold out a bit longer. There were many men out looking for that fiend, and as much as McKraken wanted to join the hunt, he knew he was doing good work here protecting the Day family from harm. He leaned against the front wall and closed his eyes for just a moment,
Similar Books
