Spellbreaker

“Goodness, is she traveling alone?” Elsie turned slightly to see who’d spoken, and saw two women watching her. Women in fine dresses with their hair meticulously curled. A mother and daughter, if she guessed right.

Elsie averted her eyes and picked up her pace, but she still caught “This thing will bring in anyone, won’t it?”

But Elsie didn’t have time to care about gossips. Valise in hand, she kicked her skirts as she hurried from the station. Lugging her things about was becoming bothersome, but what else could she do? At least she wouldn’t have to linger at the masonry shop to pack a bag.

She thought of all the things she’d have to leave behind, for she’d need to get Emmeline out of there as quickly as possible. Dresses, books . . . Her heart hurt, not for the things, but for the home she would have to leave behind. The stonemasonry shop was her life, and despite it all, it was a very good life. Deep down, she still couldn’t accept that Ogden, her Ogden, could have . . . but there was no other answer for it. And if by some grace of God there was, it would have to come out after she and Emmeline were safely away.

Where? To Juniper Down, perhaps. The Halls had kicked her out before, when she was merely another mouth to feed, but she was a capable woman now, and she could work crops and clean a fireplace. Emmeline as well. Or they could go far away, to Liverpool or the like, and get a job in service. They wouldn’t have a reference from Ogden, but times were changing. Maybe they wouldn’t need one.

There was also Bacchus. Unless the duke had passed while she was away, he might still be in Kent. Perhaps, if things got ugly, she could steal away to Barbados—

Stop thinking like a fictional character. She switched her valise to her other hand. She had her savings, and Emmeline would have something, and Elsie had already mentally listed anything she might be able to sell. They’d get by, one way or another—

A flash of yellow caught her eye, and Elsie paused right there in the street, earning a curse from a factory worker as he ran into her.

Nash.

The way was crowded despite the evening hour, but Elsie was sure it was him. His usual smile was nowhere to be seen, his face tight and serious. Perhaps he was innocent of any wrongdoing, but the way Emmeline had always felt so cowed in his presence bit at Elsie. And so, when he turned the corner, Elsie found herself picking up her skirts and hurrying after him, taking one turn and then another when she saw the bright flash of his hair disappearing down a side road. She pardoned herself countless times as she took off after him, accidentally swinging her valise into passersby or nudging them with her shoulders. The throng thinned, and soon she was following Nash much more covertly, though she felt she stuck out like a whale in a bathtub with her luggage.

Finally, the man turned into some downtrodden flats in desperate need of repair. Third door, two-story. Elsie dipped around the side, stowing her valise out of sight. Should she confront him head-on? Act like she was in town on some sort of business, and Ogden had told her where to meet him? Should she be stealthy and sneak up behind him? Perhaps ask the neighbor if she might come in and press her ear to the wall? That wouldn’t be strange at all—

She deliberated for several minutes before Nash made the decision for her. He re-emerged with a bag over his shoulder, his strides more purposeful now. He took off down the road quickly.

Elsie, coming around the building, eyed his door.

Then she snuck around back. She used her hatpin to unlock his window, and lifted it.

This was utterly the least elegant thing she’d ever done.

When Elsie dropped into the narrow, filthy kitchen beyond, her skirts toppled over her head, and if Nash had any roommates, they’d certainly gotten a good view of her knickers. Fortunately, the flat appeared to be empty once she righted herself. Empty and dark. And dank.

Something about the atmosphere raised gooseflesh on Elsie’s arms. She proceeded quietly, though the floorboards creaked like an old woman’s jaw. This was most certainly the dwelling of an unrefined bachelor. The furniture was sparse, belongings few, and yet the place looked untidy. Mold grew in one of the corners. A half-eaten plate of something sat on a nearby chair. It had to be at least two days old.

Elsie eyed the thin stairs leading to the second floor. After ensuring the front door was locked, she carefully ascended them.