Alexander-Fyn-Sanguinarian

said again.
    Impatiently, Mrs. Brackett cut him off. “What have you done to your lip, Miss Evie? There’s blood on it.”
    Evangeline touched her fingers to her mouth. “I suppose I bit it when he grabbed me.” She refrained from mentioning what else he had done to her.
    “He grabbed you?” The housekeeper was horrified.
    “Yes, he surprised me in the carriage and I was afraid and tried to get out. He grabbed me and closed the carriage door. It must have happened then.”
    Hodder shook his head. “I’m telling you, Miss Rutledge, he wasn’t there.”
    “You shut up!” Mrs. Brackett rounded on the driver. “This lady is your mistress now and if she says the monster was in the carriage, then he was in the carriage!”
    “Sorry, ma’am.” Hodder tugged his forelock and looked at his feet.
    “This is all too much for one night,” Mrs. Brackett stated flatly.
    She looked at the driver. “Leave them trunks where they are and take the carriage over to the ostler on Market Lane for the night. You can sleep in the attic, Mr. Hodder. We’re not leaving in the dark with my young lady all worked into a dither. Her imagination’s running away with her.”
    “No, it isn’t!” Evangeline burst out when she saw the driver nodding sagely at the housekeeper. “I tell you, Mrs. Brackett, he was there. He spoke to me.”
    “Of course he was. I believe you, Miss Evie. Now you go into the kitchen and sit by the fire. I’m going to make us a cup of tea and that Sanguinarian 21
    chicken pie should be just about done. A nice bit of supper will set us all to rights.”
    “He was there!”
    “Yes, lamb, go on now.” Evangeline went along the hall to the kitchen and sat down cozily in the cushioned rocking chair. She could still hear the hushed tones of Hodder and Mrs. Brackett. “Poor girl,”
    the housekeeper said. “She’s that worked up about going off to marry that madman, her imagination’s working nineteen to the dozen. I believe her uncle would have sold her into slavery if he could just to get his hands on a deal of money.”
    “The poor mite,” Hodder agreed.
    “Is he as strange as they say,” she whispered. “The Raven?”
    “Stranger, I’d say. Do you think I’d work for him if I could get a job in a respectable house?”
    “And why can’t you?” Mrs. Brackett was suddenly loud again.
    “I was accused of theft in my last place. I didn’t do it, but me character was tarnished.”
    “Was it indeed?”

    22
    Fyn Alexander

Chapter Two
    In the dark early morning, Evangeline stuffed the miniature portrait of her parents into her small valise along with her few clothes.
    “I’ll have to leave all my books, Mrs. Brackett, we can’t carry trunks.
    A couple of warm gowns and one nightgown are all the clothes I can fit. I’ve put all my undergarments on under my gown.”
    “They’ll keep you warm, Miss Evie.” The housekeeper’s own valise stood ready in the hall. “We’d better get a move on before he wakes up.” She glanced up at the ceiling, indicating Hodder who they hoped was still dead to the world in the attic. “Are we doing the right thing, Miss Evie? If we can’t get your inheritance, all we’ve got to our names is the £20 I’ve saved up and that won’t last long.”
    “I’ve got ten,” Evangeline said. “That’s thirty and if we are very careful it will keep us for a year.”
    “Just barely. Let’s get out of here, Miss Evie. I’m getting very nervous, I must confess.”
    Damp, wet Wimpole Street, lit by foggy circles of light from the gas lamps, was an uninviting place so early in the day. The two women, each carrying their few possessions, walked like lost souls from their home of fifteen years. Mrs. Brackett pointed to the omnibus stop at the corner of the road. “Come on, we can’t spend money for a hansom cab, I’m afraid.”
    Half an hour later, the sky just growing light, Evangeline alighted from the omnibus behind Mrs. Brackett into Piccadilly Circus. The older woman led the way through the drizzling rain directly into a rich-smelling coffee shop and settled her bulk into a chair by the window. Evangeline followed suit and they were soon sipping Sanguinarian 23
    steaming milky chocolate and eating sweet rolls while looking out into the gray, busy streets.
    “Let’s go through it again.” Evangeline looked through the rain-drenched window at the grand entrance of the Bank of England standing at some distance across bustling Piccadilly Circus.