“She b’aint a lady,” remarked another, a hulking, hatchet-faced man whose patrol jacket was missing. He was bareheaded, his hair springing up in rusty coils. “Talks like a lady,” observed the youngest of the trio. They moved to block her, chortling and weaving. “Allow me to pass, gentlemen,” she said crisply, crossing the street once again. There were few amusements to occupy common soldiers during their off-duty hours.Īs they approached, Garrett’s heartbeat escalated. No doubt they’d been loitering at a tavern all day. The men were obviously the worse for drink. Garrett surveyed them coolly, while her grip tightened on the crook handle of her cane. “A handy lightskirt for our evening sport.” “Here’s luck,” he exclaimed to his companions. Too late: one of them had caught sight of her and was swerving in her direction. Garrett crossed to the other side of the street, keeping to the shadows. It was a trio of soldiers dressed in off-duty uniforms, laughing raucously as they advanced in her direction. Garrett intended to be long gone by then.īut her pace faltered as a few figures emerged from the reek and gloom. Soon the usual assortment of hucksters, pickpockets, drunkards, and prostitutes would emerge to crowd the area.
The glow from the lamps on either end of the street strained through the fog that had settled in the recent summer calms, nearly obscuring the bloodshot moon. Most of the dilapidated buildings had been condemned and closed in preparation for a new development site. The soot-blackened tenements, built as close as a row of teeth, were eerily quiet. She would have liked to cover her mouth and nose with a scented handkerchief, but that wasn’t something a resident of the parish would do, and she wanted to blend in. Fortunately, she was only two blocks away from the new main road, where there would be a hansom cab for hire.Īs she passed the grates that covered Fleet Ditch, noxious fumes wafted upward and made her eyes water. The East London parish of Clerkenwell was not a place to be careless.
Her gaze took in every detail of the environment. So far there had been no evidence to justify her unease-no glimpse of a person behind her, no sound of footsteps-but she could feel him somewhere close.Ĭarrying her leather doctor’s bag in her right hand and a hickory cane with the other, Garrett continued to walk at a brisk pace. Lately she had the feeling of being watched whenever she went on her weekly visit to the workhouse infirmary. The uneasy awareness crept along the nape of Garrett’s neck until the fine hairs stood on end.
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