14 Chapter 14

Wife? Wife?

When the whole county knew she was a widow and she dressed endlessly in a parade of crow's garments? Shutting the door on the room she'd schemed endlessly to inhabit, Cass couldn't believe it. Why not curse, give vent to the screaming pulse within her? Her dreams were in danger of being ripped away if she didn't take a breath, hold it, and examine the geography of this land, though. Its terrain, its hiding places. However he'd managed it, Gil had found her-in a black peignoir, in a brawl with a man she'd kissed, while married to Gil, who was now here and wouldn't be leaving any time soon either.

Hastily she tugged a shawl round her shoulders-the first thing to take care of was the fact she faced him half naked, with her undergarments on the floor. Silk ones.

"So? What do you want?"

Apart from staring at her drawers and corset? Well, he was welcome. It was all he was going to get to do with them--whatever else happened here, whatever he'd said. Maybe she wasn't going to be able to dominate this situation with them on the floor, as much as she'd like, maybe her options were as numerous as one-legged chickens, gathering the garments up would show she knew it.

"Nice that." He dragged his gaze from her corset. "What did you just say?"

"What do you want?"

"Hmm." He screwed up his face, stuck his thumbs in his waistcoat pocket, looked at the ceiling. "Well now, to quote Hamlet, by that fellow, what's his name again, William Shakespeare and all that, that is the question. Whether it's to suffer the there them slings of outrageous fortune, or, you know, take up arms and all them things what you take up, and do what you can, to actually end this protracted situation what you is in. Or is it, the them there stings of outrageous fortune? You know, I can't remember. But, see, what I am hoping is that I ain't going to have to end them. Thinking how awful that would be for certain for those concerned, see? You get a big soddin' arrow sticking in your-"

"Jesus, Cass."

"Evenin' Rube." He sniffed loudly. "Hope it's a good 'un."

"It soddin' was till yer soddin' showed yer soddin' ugly face."

"Hmm." He strolled around the copper tub, sniffing the stone cold suds. "Personally I think ugly sodding face is what you might call a better arrangement of the words. See, it has what you might call, a more them there poetic ring to it."

"The only soddin' thing I'd like to ring is-"

"Hmm. Well ... Sure you ain't alone there. Still, not to put too fine a point on it, not just you here, Rube, to bid a good and wondrous-to-behold, evening to. Pearl, Sapphire, jewels of the Orient. Here, don't you think this is just like them olden days what we did have together, them happy times in ... what was the name of that place again ... Lanthorne Street?"

It would be if Ruby sprung across the floor and Gil took her by the throat.

"Jeezus, Cass ... "

"Uh." He shot her a warning glance. Then he swung his gaze to Cass. "'Course, you was all real then. Not ghosts. Well you are. I mean you're dead, see, ain't you? Some of you anyways. But seriously, no seriously, see, you got any idea how surprised I was to discover you and old Rube there wasn't thrustin' up no daisies at Mile End? Hat off to you both, if I could get me hat off now. After the journey, through all the frost and cold, them withered brambles and that, and then the shock of coming here and seeing that what I thought was ghosts, was in fact not ghosts, me hat's a bit stuck on me head."

"I said, what do you wan-"

Another sniff. "And I said, ain't you even going to ask how I found you, Cass? Ain't even you that tiny bit curious?"

She was, but since he wouldn't rest till he'd played this particular fiddle, why give him any satisfaction? "Not really."

"Well, see? Since you ain't asking, I'll tell you anyway. Then we can get to the next part of this incredible little there them meeting, this company of ghosts."

"Cass ... " Pearl wailed.

"I mean, it's them there simple, in'it? You always was smart, Cass. All the way back. Even that first day you arrived in Lanthorne Street. Maybe not so everyone could see it. Your brains and things. But I could. You was always a cool un' too."

Was she? She didn't think so. But if she seemed so, it was only because necessity had always demanded it. How else to keep the circling wolves at bay on that little patch she inhabited? Wolves like him, like Devorlane Hawley padding round it now. Why the hell hadn't she just bolted earlier?

"Pearl's running away ... now that wasn't so smart. You ladies messed up there. See? I know, least unless you stole her some and put them in her them there head, she ain't got the brains to do that on her own. See? That's when I started remembering, after I had shed a few tears'n all over your untimely demise, in the raging torrent of what is the Thames river, how you always said you was lady of a particular manor. You was so easy to find, Cass. Didn't you even think of using a different name? I mean don't you think old Lord what's 'is name again-Koorecroft-well, I ain't him it's true-- but don't you think he'd be happy to hear he's got three of London's finest snaps on his patch?"

"Are you meaning yourself, Gil? Because Pearl's hardly that. She hasn't done nothing. So let's leave her out of this, shall we?"

"Course she hasn't. What did I say about brains? Whereas you now?" His brute contempt was preferable to the way his eyes softened. "Ah, you now. You wouldn't grass me up, my girl. Not the things I done for you back in the day. The times I kept Starkie away, and not just from beating your back. Tatters, wasn't it, some of them times when you just refused point blank to get out there and do what you was born to do? What God gave you the them there talent to do? But maybe you've forgotten? What do you think, ladies? Has Cass here, forgotten? Fool's errand this is, if she has."

She fought not to moisten her lips. He was right. He had done things for her. From that very first day he'd looked out for her. Even tonight he'd ensured she hadn't fried. In his way.

But then again, there was the one time he'd failed her. The time he'd messed things up. The time that to this day, shrunk the little patch she stood on. And that one time meant whatever he'd done for her, he wasn't stepping on that little patch with her, whatever happened next. She wasn't stealing again either if that was why he was here. She'd sooner die. And she didn't care if he knew why. Not given what boiled in her veins and all she stood to lose. She tilted her chin.

"Oh, I haven't forgotten. Do you remember the Wentworth emeralds? Hmm? That nice little necklace I stole about four miles from here? Seeing as you remember so damned much, do you remember that?"