get out of in a hurry. The driver was huddled in a greatcoat with a battered hat pulled down over his brows – apart from a brief glance at them, he neither moved nor spoke.
Her captor handed Eveline in as though she were a lady, though without letting go of her arm until they settled, opposite each other, into the creaking leather seats. He leaned back and regarded her with a cold, unreadable eye. “Well,” he said. “You are in some ways a rather foolish young woman, are you not?”
Eveline looked back at him, warily, and said nothing.
“I would have thought your pride in your abilities would force a disclaimer from you, but perhaps I was mistaken,” he went on.
“You can’t expect a common girl like me to understand all that fancy talk,” she said.
“Now you see, I rather do. Because you have already demonstrated your cleverness. Really rather unwise, in your profession. My name is Holmforth. I work for Her Majesty’s Government. You may be able to be of service to the Empire – if you are capable of being educated, of taking orders, and of operating with discretion. It is that last part, the matter of discretion, which troubles me. It troubles me, Miss Duchen.”
“If you find me so troublesome, Mr Holmforth, then why don’t I just go on my way, and we’ll say no more about it?” Eveline reached for the door of the carriage.
Holmforth’s cane whicked through the air; the bronze ferrule slammed into the door an inch from her fingers. “Don’t be more foolish than you can help,” he said. “Besides, you must be a little curious, surely?”
She shrugged. “All right. Don’t see why Her Majesty’s Government would be interested in the likes of me. Never have been before, that I know about.”
“You may have skills that will be of use to us.” He leaned back, placing his cane carefully at his side, steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, and regarded her with those icy blues.
“What sort of skills?”
“That, you will discover.”
“You don’t know whether I’m any good at what you want, but you want me anyway? What happens if I’m no good at whatever it is?”
“I am sure you will do your best, will you not? It is a chance at a better life. What is there to keep you from it? You have no family, only a gaggle of thieves. They will hardly notice your absence.”
Wrong twice, Eveline thought. She did have family. Uncle James, who had so kindly offered them a place under his roof. And if she disappeared, Ma Pether’d do her damnedest to find out what had happened, if only out of caution.
Much good that’d do her if she was face down in the Thames.
“You are unconvinced,” Holmforth said. “You know James Lathrop is dead.”
Two emotions jabbed through Eveline so fast they were hard to distinguish from each other. One was shock – not only did he know her, he knew about Uncle James, which meant he knew more than anyone else, including Ma Pether. In fact, he knew more than Eveline herself.
The other emotion was a furious joy. Dead, is he? Good! I hope he suffered!
Holmforth was watching her closely. She tried to school her face to a look of calm disinterest. “Do you wish to tell me why, having been offered a comfortable home on the death of your parents, you chose, instead, the life of the streets?” He leaned forward. “Or perhaps you would like to tell me what happened to Charlotte?”
Eveline’s breath caught, before she could help herself; she knew he’d noticed, too, but refused to give him the satisfaction. “Don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“Charlotte. Your baby sister. I’m sure you remember, since you both disappeared at the same time. Perhaps she was stolen away by gypsies?”
Eveline said nothing.
“The remaining servants said that Lathrop had had two wards briefly living under his roof, that their mother had died, and that the older had run away, apparently taking the younger, who was barely more than a babe-in-arms. He placed a notice
Her captor handed Eveline in as though she were a lady, though without letting go of her arm until they settled, opposite each other, into the creaking leather seats. He leaned back and regarded her with a cold, unreadable eye. “Well,” he said. “You are in some ways a rather foolish young woman, are you not?”
Eveline looked back at him, warily, and said nothing.
“I would have thought your pride in your abilities would force a disclaimer from you, but perhaps I was mistaken,” he went on.
“You can’t expect a common girl like me to understand all that fancy talk,” she said.
“Now you see, I rather do. Because you have already demonstrated your cleverness. Really rather unwise, in your profession. My name is Holmforth. I work for Her Majesty’s Government. You may be able to be of service to the Empire – if you are capable of being educated, of taking orders, and of operating with discretion. It is that last part, the matter of discretion, which troubles me. It troubles me, Miss Duchen.”
“If you find me so troublesome, Mr Holmforth, then why don’t I just go on my way, and we’ll say no more about it?” Eveline reached for the door of the carriage.
Holmforth’s cane whicked through the air; the bronze ferrule slammed into the door an inch from her fingers. “Don’t be more foolish than you can help,” he said. “Besides, you must be a little curious, surely?”
She shrugged. “All right. Don’t see why Her Majesty’s Government would be interested in the likes of me. Never have been before, that I know about.”
“You may have skills that will be of use to us.” He leaned back, placing his cane carefully at his side, steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, and regarded her with those icy blues.
“What sort of skills?”
“That, you will discover.”
“You don’t know whether I’m any good at what you want, but you want me anyway? What happens if I’m no good at whatever it is?”
“I am sure you will do your best, will you not? It is a chance at a better life. What is there to keep you from it? You have no family, only a gaggle of thieves. They will hardly notice your absence.”
Wrong twice, Eveline thought. She did have family. Uncle James, who had so kindly offered them a place under his roof. And if she disappeared, Ma Pether’d do her damnedest to find out what had happened, if only out of caution.
Much good that’d do her if she was face down in the Thames.
“You are unconvinced,” Holmforth said. “You know James Lathrop is dead.”
Two emotions jabbed through Eveline so fast they were hard to distinguish from each other. One was shock – not only did he know her, he knew about Uncle James, which meant he knew more than anyone else, including Ma Pether. In fact, he knew more than Eveline herself.
The other emotion was a furious joy. Dead, is he? Good! I hope he suffered!
Holmforth was watching her closely. She tried to school her face to a look of calm disinterest. “Do you wish to tell me why, having been offered a comfortable home on the death of your parents, you chose, instead, the life of the streets?” He leaned forward. “Or perhaps you would like to tell me what happened to Charlotte?”
Eveline’s breath caught, before she could help herself; she knew he’d noticed, too, but refused to give him the satisfaction. “Don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“Charlotte. Your baby sister. I’m sure you remember, since you both disappeared at the same time. Perhaps she was stolen away by gypsies?”
Eveline said nothing.
“The remaining servants said that Lathrop had had two wards briefly living under his roof, that their mother had died, and that the older had run away, apparently taking the younger, who was barely more than a babe-in-arms. He placed a notice
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