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“’Ow did ya—” Alfie swallowed.
Samuel did not let him finish. “The Marine Society on Bishopsgate Street,” he repeated. “And tell them Samuel Ross sent you.”
“Get out, Sammy!” Charlie hissed, raising his blade once more. “There’s nothin’ more fer ya ’ere.”
On that point, at least, he and Charlie could agree. Giving his erstwhile friend a terse nod, Samuel started for the stairs. If he was fortunate, he could catch Jealous or Clarke having their midday meal at the Brown Bear. From there, it would be only a short hackney ride to The Merry Piglets.
Chapter 14
Hannah stood at her bedchamber window, watching the rain. It had been coming down in a steady drizzle for over an hour. Puddles were forming on the road, and the leaves on the old sycamore tree were drooped and dripping. She raised her head to study the sky. Gray. Truth be told, the single word was an apt description of her life at present. She’d been cooped up at home for too long, and it was beginning to take its toll. Mr. Ross’s visit the day before yesterday had been the one bright spot in a long string of quiet, unremarkable days.
He hadn’t come yesterday. Hannah had purposely situated herself in her father’s study between the hours of one and four, but Mr. Ross had not appeared.
Her father had been unconcerned. “The fellow will come when he has news,” he’d said matter-of-factly. Hannah, on the other hand, had been disappointed. Rather alarmingly so. And she was still trying to come to terms with what that meant.
The simplest explanation, of course, was that she was bored and craving news from the outside world. Unfortunately, that reasoning had lost some credibility when, at half past three, their friend and neighbor Miss Emma Kempton had called to see them. She had regaled Hannah, Sophia, and Elinor with all the latest news and gossip from her mother’s recent soiree. Miss Millie Simkins’s blatant flirtation with Lord Thorley at the last ball, the rumored unparalleled beauty of Lady Telford’s newly created emerald pendant, and Mrs. Everleigh’s mortification over serving tea cakes that contained no sugar to the imperious Lady Norrington. Each story had outdone the last. But the moment Emma had left, Hannah’s feeling of emptiness had returned. It was ridiculous that she should miss a gentleman she barely knew, but that appeared to be her discomforting situation.
Her unsettled state of mind had been further aggravated by the recent return of her childhood nightmares. She shuddered at the memory of those awful images. Last night, the person being led to the gallows had not been the young gray-eyed pickpocket; it had been Mr. Ross. And when she’d awoken, the ache in her heart had been as great as the ache in her throat.
Turning away from the rain-streaked window, she moved across the room and slowly lowered herself onto the chair at her dressing table.
“Hannah Dennington,” she said, contemplating her sad reflection. “This torturing of yourself has gone on long enough. You were a child, and you did what you thought was best. Now you are a woman, and it is past time to relinquish your remorse and guilt. For years, you have prayed for the boy. That has to count for something.” She took a deep breath and then quietly added, “Surely, wherever he is now is a better place than where he was then.”
In the mirror, her solemn eyes gazed back at her. For the first time in years, she allowed her thoughts to dwell on the boy. Other than the color of his eyes and his ragged clothing, she had little memory of his physical features. She tried to imagine him living in heaven, far from the grimy streets of London. Though a somewhat unrealistic image for a thief, it was a happy one. That realization lifted her heart a fraction, and like a small, flickering flame, hope penetrated the cloud of gray.
She’d never experienced a lightening of spirit in association with her recollections of the young pickpocket before. Perhaps in this quiet moment of introspection, she had finally taken her first step toward forgiving herself and feeling peace. She studied her reflection a moment longer. The change in her countenance was noticeable, even to her, and it gave her the courage she so desperately needed. She would not put off taking her second step another day.
It took only three minutes to don her bonnet and boots. And then, with her cloak over one arm and her reticule in hand, she exited her room and knocked on the door across the hall.
“Come in!” Sophia’s cheery voice responded.
Hannah opened the door and stepped inside. Sophia was sitting on a chair beside the window, a large sketchbook on her knee and a piece of charcoal in her hand.
“Hannah!” she said, her instant smile wavering as she took in Hannah’s clothing. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Yes,” Hannah said. “And I rather hoped you would come with me.”
Sophia gestured to the window. “Did you not know that it’s pouring with rain?”
“It’s not pouring. It’s drizzling.”
Sophia pursed her lips. “Whatever you wish to call it, it’s wet and cold. And you are only recently recovered from a significant setback to your health. No matter where you wish to go, I am quite sure you would be better served waiting until the rain has stopped.”
“Actually, I believe I will feel considerably better if I go straightway,” Hannah said. “Before my courage fails me.”
Setting aside her drawing materials, Sophia rose. “Well, if you intended to pique my curiosity with that cryptic reply, you succeeded. Where is it that you wish to go?”
“Tyburn Gallows,” Hannah said.
For five long heartbeats, Sophia stared at her. “You . . . you wish to go to Tyburn Gallows?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Sophia asked.
“Because it is time.” Hannah raised her chin a fraction. “I wish to face my fears and put my nightmares to rest once and for all.” She swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “That sounds considerably braver than I feel, and I . . . I thought it might help if you were with me. Especially after what happened on the last outing I took in the carriage.”
Sophia’s eyes glistened with tears, but she smiled regardless. “Have I ever told you that I love going for rides in the rain?”
