About...?”
He grinned. “About Cornelia Cutpurse, you mean?” It had been her nickname among the thieves, whores and cardsharps of the Upper Cape, into whose dark and lively world Duncan had introduced her at sixteen. She’d been proud of that name, and of the nimble fingers and ghostly stealth that had inspired it. “Yeah, he knows.”
She rubbed her forehead, the air leaving her lungs in a moan.
“He’s got this way of makin’ you feel...I don’t know, like you can tell him things,” Duncan said. “Like he’ll understand, and not just cast judgment. Talking to him, it’s like goin’ to confession, only better, ‘cause he talks back instead of just telling you how many Hail Mary’s you owe. You were like that, back when we were together. I could never keep anything from you.”
“You told him everything?” she asked, deeply dismayed. “About you and me?”
“Yeah, but see, it don’t matter. You got nothin’ to worry about from him, Nell. He don’t even know the Hewitts, and if he did, he wouldn’t tell ‘em nothin’. Tell you who you
should
be worried about, though.” Duncan leaned forward on his elbows, the sunlight turning his eyes a scalding, lucent blue. “The son.”
She stared at him. “The...?”
“I know he’s the other one, the one you think you can trust. I know you’re sweet on him, but he’s—”
“Wait a minute...”
“He ain’t what he seems. You think you know him, that he’s a gentleman just ‘cause he’s a Hewitt, and he knows how to dress and act, and all the rest of it, but if you knew how he really is, what he does when you ain’t around...”
“Wait a minute!” How could he know about Will? How could he know about any of it? “Where do you get your information?” she demanded. “How do you know where I live, who I work for, who I associate with? How did you know I went to the Cape with the Hewitts over the summer?”
He shook the handkerchief out, scrubbed it over his hands. “That ain’t important.”
“Of course it’s important. You’ve been locked up in here for eight years. How are you finding these things out?”
“Just ‘cause you’re in jail don’t have to mean you’re completely cut off from the world, not if you’re smart.”
“You’re wrong about me being sweet on him,” she said.
“Look, I know about you two, all right? I know everything. But what
you
don’t know is, men like that, one woman is never good enough for ‘em, and there’s no getting serious about some sweet little thing from the old country, no matter how pretty she is or what kind of airs she puts on. That type, they only want a woman like you for one thing.”
“You don’t know everything, Duncan.” It had never been like that between her and Will. Nor would it...could it...ever be that way.
“I know enough.”
“Believe what you will.” It hardly mattered, at this point. He’d promised not to write to her anymore. With any luck, he’d keep that promise, and she’d never have to deal with him again. “I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other,” she said as she rose from her chair. “Except goodbye.”
“I know where you can find Virgil Hines.”
She stilled, sat back down.
“I got a pretty good idea, anyway,” he said.
She waited him out.
“Father Beals told me you been asking about him. He said Virgil and some girl went missing a few days ago.”
“Did you know Mr. Hines?”
“‘Mr. Hines?’” Duncan snorted with laughter. “Damn, you
have
gone all highfalutin on me, haven’t you?”
Nell regarded him in expectant silence.
“I didn’t know him well,” Duncan said, idly dragging the now-filthy handkerchief over his upper chest, “but I knew him. There’s only about three-hundred of us here, all told, so everybody knows everybody else. He had a big mouth, that Virgil. Liked to talk about a little farm north of here that’s not being worked anymore on account of all the rocks, and nobody lives
He grinned. “About Cornelia Cutpurse, you mean?” It had been her nickname among the thieves, whores and cardsharps of the Upper Cape, into whose dark and lively world Duncan had introduced her at sixteen. She’d been proud of that name, and of the nimble fingers and ghostly stealth that had inspired it. “Yeah, he knows.”
She rubbed her forehead, the air leaving her lungs in a moan.
“He’s got this way of makin’ you feel...I don’t know, like you can tell him things,” Duncan said. “Like he’ll understand, and not just cast judgment. Talking to him, it’s like goin’ to confession, only better, ‘cause he talks back instead of just telling you how many Hail Mary’s you owe. You were like that, back when we were together. I could never keep anything from you.”
“You told him everything?” she asked, deeply dismayed. “About you and me?”
“Yeah, but see, it don’t matter. You got nothin’ to worry about from him, Nell. He don’t even know the Hewitts, and if he did, he wouldn’t tell ‘em nothin’. Tell you who you
should
be worried about, though.” Duncan leaned forward on his elbows, the sunlight turning his eyes a scalding, lucent blue. “The son.”
She stared at him. “The...?”
“I know he’s the other one, the one you think you can trust. I know you’re sweet on him, but he’s—”
“Wait a minute...”
“He ain’t what he seems. You think you know him, that he’s a gentleman just ‘cause he’s a Hewitt, and he knows how to dress and act, and all the rest of it, but if you knew how he really is, what he does when you ain’t around...”
“Wait a minute!” How could he know about Will? How could he know about any of it? “Where do you get your information?” she demanded. “How do you know where I live, who I work for, who I associate with? How did you know I went to the Cape with the Hewitts over the summer?”
He shook the handkerchief out, scrubbed it over his hands. “That ain’t important.”
“Of course it’s important. You’ve been locked up in here for eight years. How are you finding these things out?”
“Just ‘cause you’re in jail don’t have to mean you’re completely cut off from the world, not if you’re smart.”
“You’re wrong about me being sweet on him,” she said.
“Look, I know about you two, all right? I know everything. But what
you
don’t know is, men like that, one woman is never good enough for ‘em, and there’s no getting serious about some sweet little thing from the old country, no matter how pretty she is or what kind of airs she puts on. That type, they only want a woman like you for one thing.”
“You don’t know everything, Duncan.” It had never been like that between her and Will. Nor would it...could it...ever be that way.
“I know enough.”
“Believe what you will.” It hardly mattered, at this point. He’d promised not to write to her anymore. With any luck, he’d keep that promise, and she’d never have to deal with him again. “I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other,” she said as she rose from her chair. “Except goodbye.”
“I know where you can find Virgil Hines.”
She stilled, sat back down.
“I got a pretty good idea, anyway,” he said.
She waited him out.
“Father Beals told me you been asking about him. He said Virgil and some girl went missing a few days ago.”
“Did you know Mr. Hines?”
“‘Mr. Hines?’” Duncan snorted with laughter. “Damn, you
have
gone all highfalutin on me, haven’t you?”
Nell regarded him in expectant silence.
“I didn’t know him well,” Duncan said, idly dragging the now-filthy handkerchief over his upper chest, “but I knew him. There’s only about three-hundred of us here, all told, so everybody knows everybody else. He had a big mouth, that Virgil. Liked to talk about a little farm north of here that’s not being worked anymore on account of all the rocks, and nobody lives
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