The Chemickal Marriage

price, if such bedraggled men as we come with you –’
    ‘Do you think I care for such exposure? I am more than willing to pay for what I ask.’
    ‘Society is not only a matter of
money
,’ said Phelps.
    ‘Of course it is!’
    ‘For all your pride,’ Phelps answered harshly, ‘Roger Bascombe was not a titled prince. Despite the advantages some wealth may have afforded you, Miss Temple,
real
status is something you have not glimpsed.’
    Miss Temple scowled. ‘I have never found disdain for money to be a compelling force.’
    ‘Who stands with you now, Celeste?’ asked Svenson quietly. ‘Are we swayed by your banknotes?’
    Miss Temple threw up her hands. ‘That is not the same at all!’
    ‘You will be
seen
,’ insisted Phelps. ‘When all of this is over, if you do expect to retain any place in society –’
    ‘I have no place!’ Miss Temple shouted. ‘I am a New World savage! And I
expect
this present business to end my life!’
    She turned on her heel down the narrow canyon of Helliott Street. The four men avoided each other’s gaze, watching her small form diminish.
    ‘Deftly managed all round,’ muttered Svenson.
    ‘But the
idea
,’ protested Phelps, ‘that a ridiculous bolt of
fabric
–’
    ‘Hiding is not about concealment,’ said Chang, ‘but revelation. A fugitive is given away just like an animal – by instincts that aren’t, or can’t be, denied. A badger spreads its scent. The Contessa has her finery.’
    ‘I should look in the home of some sympathetic great lady,’ agreed Cunsher, ‘where the signs you mention may be laid to another’s appetite.’
    ‘But she has the child,’ said Svenson. ‘Francesca Trapping would be a burden.’
    Chang shook his head. ‘For all we know, the girl is chained in a wardrobe, licking glue from hatboxes to stay alive.’
    Phelps wrinkled his nose. ‘Cardinal Chang –’
    ‘Licking hatboxes if she’s
lucky
.’ Chang stepped to Svenson and slapped the dust from his coat. ‘Doctor, since your uniform suggests
some
respectability, will you run after Miss Temple so she does not launch on any additional journeys alone? Phelps, I would suggest you visit the offices of the
Herald
and locate the full text of this clipping about the Comte’s salon. Mr Cunsher, perhaps you might discover whether any further red envelopes have arrived at the Hotel Boniface. As we near the end of business hours,I recommend speed. Let us meet in two hours at some public place. St Isobel’s statue?’
    He turned sharply to leave, but Svenson called behind him, ‘What of you? What will you do?’
    ‘Find a fresh pair of stockings!’ Chang shouted back. Under his breath, he muttered, ‘And wrap them tight around Jack Pfaff’s neck.’
    Ten minutes took Chang to the river. The streets were filled with huddled figures – men passing bottles, children watching his passage with large eyes, women with hopes as cold and distant as a star. He assumed these were foreign dregs, washed into the city without language or a trade, but from snatches of conversation – and cries for money he ignored – he realized they were displaced citizens, refugees in their own city. Chang increased his pace. He had no wish for any entanglement, nor for the constables these unfortunates would inevitably attract.
    To his right lay a fat Dutch sloop, painted the warm yellow of a ripened pear. The craft was anchored well out in the river, and on its deck stood armed men. He had seen such caution before, with especially valuable cargo, but the sloop was not alone. In fear of pillage, the entire river was choked with vessels keeping a night-time distance from the bank.
    The building on the corner of his own street remained derelict and Chang entered through an empty window. He drew one of Foison’s knives, but advanced without incident to the roof. He picked his way across four buildings, and dropped in silence to a fifth, landing in a crouch. The windows around him glowed with candles and lamps, but no sign of habitation came from his own open casement. Chang gave the window a shove, waited, then eased himself in. No one. The floor by the window was caked with feathers and white-streaked filth.
    Few objects caught Cardinal Chang’s sentiment, and most of those – his red leather coat, his stick, his books – he had already sacrificed. Within his genuine regret for their loss, he nevertheless detected a vein of relief … the more of his past that disappeared, the less he felt