The same couldn’t be said for his companion.
“And ’oos mindin’ the palace, is what I’d like to know,” grumped Bert. He was half a head shorter than Harry and was hunched inside the collar of his bottle-green coat like a turtle. A huge gray scarf wrapped around and over both his face and the seedy wig he wore, making his head look disproportionately swollen. “Sendin’ us off in the middle o’ the day with a wench!”
“There’s a dozen o’ the crew at the palace,” Harry pointed out. “And Bob.”
“Bob! Jaysus, Bob,” Bert said in disgust. “Couldn’t guard a kitten, could Bob.”
“When ’e’s not three sheets to the wind ’e can,” Harry said judiciously.
“ ’E’s always fuckin’ drunk!”
“Watch yer tongue,” Harry said, and then as an aside to Silence, “ ’E’s missin’ ’is afternoon tea is Bert, and it makes ’im tetchy like. Normally the most placid o’ men is our Bert.”
Silence, watched as “our Bert” spat through his missing two front teeth, almost hitting a passing mongrel. She was rather doubtful that the man was ever in a good mood, tea or no tea, but she wisely decided not to share this thought. For whatever reason Harry seemed to have taken a liking to her, and she was loath to spoil their accord.
If she was to live with Charming Mickey O’Connor she would need a friendly face.
Dear God. Only now as she walked the grimy streets of St. Giles, did the full impact of her decision hit her. She’d pledged to live in the same house as the most notorious man in St. Giles—a man she’d spent over a year hating and fearing. Whatever shreds of respectability she’d been able to pull together over her battered reputation in the last year would be truly torn asunder now. But what choice did she have? One look at Mary Darling’s face and she would’ve walked through fire.
Silence shivered and pulled her cloak more firmly about her person. Mickey O’Connor had never actually hurt her—not physically anyway—and she had Harry as an ally. She would draw on her own strength, keep to herself, and avoid the company of Charming Mickey and his men as much as possible until his enemies were defeated and she could go home.
Pray that was soon.
She turned into a small lane and the modest door to the Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children came into sight. It was the temporary Home for Unfortunate Infants and Foundling Children, sadly, ever since a fire had burned down the original home a year ago. A new building was being built for the home, but a series of setbacks had delayed their move to the new place.
The door was flung open before Silence could touch it.
“Have you found her?” Nell Jones, the home’s trusted maidservant, looked eager, but her bright blue eyes dimmed when she saw Silence’s empty arms. Nell’s pretty face was flushed, one blond lock fluttering around her ear—her disorder a measure of how worried she was about Mary Darling.
“I did find Mary Darling,” Silence said hastily. “But… well, it’s a long story.”
“And who are these two?” Nell asked suspiciously, eyeing Harry and Bert.
“Gentlemen what ’as seen yer mistress safely ’ome,” Harry said. He removed the battered tricorne from his head, revealing a thinning patch of straggly brown hair, and bowed rather elegantly, considering his size.
“Huh,” Nell sniffed, though her tone was less strident. “Best come inside, then.”
The entryway to the home was narrow and cramped and the two men seemed to take up not only what little room there was, but the air as well.
Nell stared at them disapprovingly for a moment and then turned to a small boy loitering curiously behind her. “Joseph Tinbox, take these, er, gentlemen back to the kitchen and ask Mary Whitsun to make them a pot of tea.”
“Why, that’s quite kind o’ ye, ma’am.” Harry beamed.
Silence was surprised to see Nell fight to keep her face stern.
“Mind nothing goes missing in there,” the maid said gruffly. “I know everything in that kitchen down to the vinegar shakers.”
Harry placed his hand over his heart. “I’ll keep me eye on Bert, ’ere. See that ’e don’t pocket a spoon or nothin’.”
With an indignant snort from Bert, Joseph Tinbox led them off.
“Hurry,” Silence said as she made for the stairs. “I had to leave Mary Darling behind and I want to get back quickly.”
“Back where?” Nell cried as she followed Silence up the stairs, panting.
“To Mickey O’Connor’s house.”
“Dear Lord in Heaven,” Nell muttered. “Is that where you rushed off to after reading the note? To see that devil?”
Silence had returned from the shopping that morning to find that Mary had somehow disappeared from the home. Everyone in the house—all eight and twenty children, three maids, and the lone manservant—had immediately begun searching for her. But it wasn’t until a mysterious note had been delivered hours later that Silence had even thought of Mickey O’Connor.
“The note was from Mr. O’Connor saying he might have something I’d want,” Silence said breathlessly as they made the top floor of the house. The room she shared with Mary Darling was up here under the eaves. “He’s Mary’s father.”
“What?” Nell had finally caught up with her and she laid a hand on Silence’s arm. “How long have you known this?”
Silence bit her lip. “I’ve suspected it for some time. You remember Mary’s mysterious admirer? The one who used to leave presents for her on the step?”
“Yes.” Nell sank onto the narrow bed in Silence’s room, her pretty face creased with worry.
“A couple of months ago, just before Christmas, he left me a lock of black hair.” Silence pulled a small trunk from under the bed. She straightened and looked at Nell. “The lock matched Mary Darling’s hair.”
“And you think Mickey O’Connor left it for you?”
“I don’t know.” Silence shrugged. “But I think it must’ve been him. I thought I saw him watching me and Mary Darling once or twice last fall.”
“If he’s her father, why did Mickey O’Connor leave her with you?”
“He says he was trying to protect her from his enemies.” Silence began to throw clothes into the chest. “Perhaps he thought her safely hidden with me. Perhaps he was merely playing a game to amuse himself.”