Free The Imaginary Gentleman by Helen Halstead Page A

was broken and one eye all but put out.”
    â€œThat seems severe, sir. What story did he give the lady of the attack?”
    â€œShe heard nothing that made any sense.”
    â€œShe’d hear nothing but a pack of lies from that quarter. No doubt there was some ploy to get the lady to empty her purse,” said the surgeon.
    â€œIndeed.”
    â€œShe’ll not see the money again, sir. I imagine it’s already gone on gin.”
    â€œThe lady is concerned only that the boy’s livelihood is ruined,” said Edward.
    â€œUntil Tom learns to guard his tongue, he will always run into strife,” said the surgeon.
    â€œIs it too much to ask, sir, that you set the boy’s leg properly, and clean his eye?”
    â€œIt is not my usual practice to attend upon a resident in Fish Alley, but if it would put a lady’s mind at rest …”
    â€œI will, of course, compensate you for this inconvenience,” said the captain.
    â€œPlease assure the lady that I will do what I can. Do you wish to receive a report on the case?”
    â€œI do not like to waste your time, but reassurance of Tom’s condition would be agreeable, I imagine.”
    Mr. Deare accepted the captain’s direction and a generous fee in advance. He donned his cape, saying, “I must away, sir, for I am on foot. The road is impassable to horses at the moment.”
    â€œI noticed stones flying about in the storm last night.”
    â€œOn rare occasions, the wind swings violently about, and pieces of shale and small stones are thrown up into the town. The street will soon be cleared.”
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    In the first light that penetrated the gap between the heavy bed-curtains, Laura had awoken. For a moment she lay still, her eyes half open, and her life seemed as it had always been. It was the memory of a sound that returned to her, before its meaning—the grating of the key. She had been a prisoner while she passed the night in deep, dreamless sleep. Laura leapt out of bed and ran across the cold floor in bare feet. The handle turned in her grasp but the door did not budge. It was still locked.
    There was no bell to the servants’ quarters in her room, so she knocked, but there came no answer. She knocked louder, calling Sarah’s name, then Elspeth’s, to no avail. Laura wondered where her brother could be, for he was an early riser. His room was independent of theirs, opening directly onto the passage outside, so that he would not hear her unless he came into the sitting room. Elspeth’s room was further into their apartments and she never rose so early as this. Laura realised that, until someone was up and about in the sitting room, she could go nowhere. She placed her hands against the door, leant her head there and felt the utmost rage at her sister’s temerity, wondering if her brother knew that she was imprisoned.
    As she leant on the door, Laura became aware of the sound of activity in the street. Shivering now, she donned the warm wrap that lay across the chair and went to the window, whence she could see over the wall of the courtyard and into the street. Keeping back from view, she looked down at the people picking up the stones from the road. There were so many small sea pebbles, flung up even to thefront of the inn, that the street was impassable, for horses would slip upon them. She could not help feeling a certain satisfaction that her brother’s plan of leaving very early was foiled.
    Amongst the workers, Laura recognised a little girl in a grubby frock as the one she had seen in the alley; she was putting the little stones one by one into a basket. A baby crawled over to her and began to lift out the pebbles, licking them, then throwing them about, until the other child—she must have been all of four years—slapped him. He began to howl and the little girl, his sister no doubt, hoisted him up out of the way and dumped him on the pavement, where he sat