Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

meaning to suggest anything, Mrs. Hinge, but I must be careful about the reputation of my establishment.”
    “That’s as it may be, but my young lady’s name is as pure as the driven snow.” She used the expression despite the fact that the little snow they had in London turned into filthy slush within hours of falling. Mrs. Brackett looked about the room, then at the door to ensure they were alone, before whispering across the table, “There are those who think a woman should not inherit at all. Not even the small amount Miss Evie got. There are some in the family who would like to get that money back if they could. The young lady’s future is at stake. That’s why we have to be on our guard.”
    “I had no idea. Oh, I do hate that sort of thing,” the woman said, her face showing plainly her annoyance. “We women must stick together. It may be a long way off yet, but I believe the emancipation of our sex will come. Believe you me.”
    A hush fell over the table. Obviously the lady of the house felt very passionately about the subject. Female emancipation had never even occurred to Mrs. Brackett, a woman who had worked hard and supported herself all her life.
    “Emancipation?” Evangeline whispered.
    The woman nodded, dropping her voice very low. “Property rights...the vote.”
    “The vote?” Evangeline and Mrs. Brackett whispered, their hands over their hearts.
    Nodding confidently, the woman stood up. “I’m very glad you both confided in me. You will be safe in my home.”
    Mrs. Brackett smiled approvingly. “If any gentlemen comes asking about Miss Evie, would you be good enough to put them off the scent? There’s one in particular, tall bloke, thinks very highly of himself, but he only wants the young lady for her money, pitiful as the Sanguinarian 83
    amount is.”
    “You can trust me.” All businesslike again, she called the young maid to clear the breakfast tables while Evangeline and Mrs. Brackett went upstairs to the small bedroom and parlour they had rented the evening before.
    As they settled by the fire in the tiny parlour, Mrs. Brackett put her feet on the fender and sighed. “What a relief, Miss Evie. A good night’s sleep, a good breakfast, and a warm fire. I was ready to drop dead last night after all that traveling and walking the streets.”
    “My dear Mrs. Brackett.” Evangeline leaned forward from her own comfortable armchair and patted the older woman’s stout arm.
    “All I have put you through, I owe you so much.”
    “No, no, lamb, I’m not suggesting you are any trouble at all.”
    Even as she spoke, her eyes were drifting shut. They had only been up a couple of hours.
    Evangeline picked up the tongs and put more coal on the fire.
    “Now where are we?” She sat back knowing she was speaking largely to herself. “We have my £5,000 in cash. It’s plenty to buy a very nice house, a modest new wardrobe and you could do with some new apparel as well, Mrs. Brackett. We have to look the part if we are to be the landladies of a respectable boarding house.” She smiled at the prospect. “Raven will turn thirty next week, or something like that, which means that for the next seven days, possibly ten, we must remain out of sight.”
    “Let’s stay here by the fire for the next week,” Mrs. Brackett mumbled, her eyes closed.
    “That sounds very tempting, but I really think we should consider looking about for a house. I don’t want to sit around for a week. If we are staying in London I think I’ll start looking, you know, just walking the streets around the areas we are interested in to see what’s available.”
    A steady snore rose up in answer. Evangeline went to fetch her coat. She really did need a new one. With one last glance at Mrs.

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    Brackett to ensure that she was comfortable, she went quietly downstairs. She was about to step out into the gray morning when she was stopped by a voice behind her.
    “Miss Rudge?” Evangeline turned to see the young man from the breakfast room hurrying up the passage. He wore his top hat and carried a cane, clearly about to go to work.
    “Yes, Evelyn Rudge.”
    He extended a hand, his cheeks flushing. “James Harding.”
    Evangeline took his hand in her small gloved hand. “Mr.
    Harding.”
    “Are you about to go out, Miss Rudge?”
    With her hat and coat on and her hand on the doorknob it was quite plain that she was. Evangeline gave a smile. He was very pleasant and handsome, and while she