Page 111 of When We Touch

The thing that worried Maggie somewhat was that they had wound up with Cecilia as an accomplice in their endeavor.

She would never have agreed, but Mireau returned not only with disguises, but with her adventuresome friend, as well.

“Now, explain to me just what we’re up to?” Cecilia demanded. They had enlisted Clayton for the evening, afraid that Darby would feel that he was obliged to go for Jamie, or some other authority. Maggie wanted only to find her stepdaughter, and get her out of harm’s way as quickly as possible.

“We’re going into Whitechapel, and possibly to a séance,” Maggie explained, “and it could be very dangerous. Cecilia, you’ve two young sons, and you shouldn’t be with us.”

“Oh, but I shouldn’t be half the places that I am!” Cecilia said, smiling. She had out a box of makeups, and cursed now and then as the carriage went over a few ruts. She sat back, surveying her handiwork. “Oh, but I’m very good, actually. Mireau, take a look! Why, Maggie. You’re nearly an old hag! Can you imagine that—I’ve made her look quite ugly.”

Maggie had no idea what Cecilia had done with her theatrical paints. But Mireau was staring at her now as well, shaking his head. “Like an old crone,” he agreed. “Maggie, no one will recognize you now!”

“Here, I’ve a mirror!” Cecilia said, and offered it up.

Maggie looked at herself in the dim light, and nearly jumped. The wig Cecilia had given her was drab and gray. With the makeup, she had added lines and an aged, haggard appearance. She had gone so far as to give her an ugly mole.

“Perfect,” she marveled, looking at Cecilia.

“See, aren’t you glad I’m here? I’m amazingly handy.”

“Yes, but if things go badly, I shall never forgive myself,” Maggie said.

“I owe you,” Cecilia murmured.

Mireau frowned. “I took Maggie out for a last fling, having no real idea that she didn’t wish to have one.”

He stared at Maggie sternly. “It was fine. I was able to leave.”

“A gentleman helped her out,” Cecilia explained.

“Maggie!” Mireau said.

“It’s over, and we’ve tonight to concentrate upon!” She stared at Fiona, silent and wide-eyed in her corner of the carriage.

“Ah, yes, tonight!” Cecilia said.

The carriage came to a halt. Clayton came around, decidedly unhappy about their course.

“We’re at Mile’s End,” he said.

“Fiona, where was this room you rented?” Maggie asked.

Fiona came out of the carriage and stood at her side. “I don’t know!” she moaned.

“Fiona, you must think!”

“It’s dark,” the girl murmured.

Clayton became helpful, pointing out streets and landmarks, and at last, Fiona said, “There, down that alley, and around the corner. I think.”

Clayton remained with the carriage while the four hurried down the street. Maggie noted that it was well into the evening, but early for the East End where pubs stayed open all hours and the homeless drifted the streets endlessly.

As she walked, she tripped over something. A body. She looked down, terror filling her heart.

“‘Eh! Watch where ye’re goin’, luv!” a man cried out angrily.

She breathed again. Down the street, they came to a stop before a door. Maggie stepped forward, banging on it.

No answer, and it was dark within.