Free Angel of Ruin by Kim Wilkins Page B

remembered it now: finding a soft rope, making a loop for his little head, ensuring it wasn’t too tight. All the time Max whimpering as if to say, “Mary, why are you tying me?”. Still, he seemed happy and eager enough as he trotted off with Anne, who limped after James and Aileen. They were kind people, and Mary was certain they would walk slowly to accommodate her.
    Almost as soon as the sound of their feet on the cobblestones had faded into the distance, Uncle William had sidled up to her on the wooden bench under the window.
    “Mary, Mary, you’re so pretty.” His hands were already reaching for her. Up close, she could see his hair was dirty and tiny white flecks clung to the strands. Two of his teeth near the front were rotten and the hair in his nose abundant.
    “Uncle William, please. Come not so close. I’ll call the servants.”
    “And I shall send them away,” he said. But he leaned back a little, chastened, eyeing her cleavage. “You have such nice duckies. May I touch them?”
    “I need some information about my mother,” she said.
    “What information? And what’s in it for me?”
    “Was my mother superstitious?”
    “Aye.”
    “Did she consult a wise woman here in the city?”
    Uncle William cocked his head to one side. “What’s in it for me?”
    Mary picked up one of his hands and pressed it to her left breast, on the outside of her dress. “Did my mother consult a wise woman here in the city?”
    William squeezed hard enough to bruise her. “Aye, she did. I think she was a friend.”
    Despite her discomfort, Mary was excited by the information. Perhaps she would be commanding her own guardian angel soon. “Do you know anything else about her? Her name? Where she lived?”
    William’s eyes grew cunning. “I should like to suckle you, Mary. I should like very much to see your duckies and suckle them.”
    Mary sighed in exasperation. “Take your hand away, Uncle William.” And when he didn’t comply she said more forcefully, “Take your hand away, or you shall get no further with me.”
    He withdrew his hand. She unhooked the front of her bodice and opened it to her sheer undershirt. UncleWilliam’s bottom lip hung loose and wet as he ogled her. “Now, what do you know?”
    “More,” he said.
    She wriggled down her undergarments and let her breasts free. He reached for her.
    “No,” she said, her arm fending him off. She sprang up from the chair and stood in front of him, breasts bare. “Now, what do you remember about the wise woman?”
    “She lived on Leadenhall Street.”
    “Anything else?”
    He shook his head and made to lunge at her. She sidestepped him and quickly refastened her clothes. “If you remember no more, then you get no more from me.”
    “It was so long ago,” he wailed. “How am I supposed to remember which wise woman your mother knew?”
    “If it is important enough you’ll remember.” She stood primly in front of him as he watched her, his mind turning over the problem.
    “And if I do remember? What do I get?”
    “Everything,” Mary said without hesitation, for she knew she would never honour the bargain. “You get me. But only if I verify the information as accurate, so don’t go making anything up.”
    “Very well. Very well, I shall find out, you’ll see. Within a month you’ll be lying beneath me.”
    Mary sniffed. “Find me the information first.” She turned towards the stairs. “Until then, nothing.”
    Betty was back by the end of the week, and Deborah felt an unexpected jealous tug when she saw her father and new stepmother go walking on the first evening of her return. She watched from the window in her room as Betty led Father to the bottom of the street and then around the corner. She turned her back to the window.Father seemed to love Betty in his own gruff way, and Deborah supposed she should be glad that he had found happiness.
    She descended to her father’s study. Liza was out at the markets, so she had the house to