The Silk Thief (33 page)

‘Do you know of any possible reason for her indisposition?’

‘She’s had a lot of bad news lately. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that my wife and I need a servant who can perform her duties, and Harrie can’t. Not any more.’

‘Mmm,’ Mr Plunkett said. ‘Melancholia, perhaps, with a touch of mania. I’m not the medical expert, of course. Well, we’ll admit her, and Dr Ashton can examine her in the morning and make a full diagnosis. Will you want her back if she can be cured? She may be here some time.’

‘No. I’ll get another girl.’

‘In that case a letter will be sent to you, which you should take to the Factory with her assignment papers, to prove that she’s been unsuitable. That should clear the way for you to obtain a replacement in a timely fashion.’

‘Very good.’ George put on his hat. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’

‘No,’ Harrie said, her voice eerily flat.

Startled, the two men looked at her.

The superintendent turned to George. ‘I thought you just informed me that she couldn’t speak?’

‘She doesn’t, most of the time.’ George gripped Harrie’s hand and pulled her up off the chair. ‘Come on, Harrie. You need to go with Mr Plunkett.’

Thomas Plunkett beckoned to someone standing in the shadows — an attendant, who trotted across the foyer and took hold of Harrie’s other arm.

‘No!’ Harrie cried, and let loose a wild howl.

George dropped her hand as though it were on fire, and made a dash for the door, Harrie’s shrieks ringing in his ears. He glanced behind him just once, to see her being dragged across the floor, struggling and kicking, her skirts up around her thighs, and then, thank God, he was outside.

He sat in the gig, his head down, breathing deeply. That had been more unpleasant than he’d expected. But he’d had to do it. He had to get rid of Harrie. It was the only way to stop Nora paying Emma’s wages. He knew she was because the money she kept hidden in the linen cupboard was going down each week by exactly the amount Emma was receiving. It wasn’t right — Nora was his wife, and that money was his. It was Leo bloody Dundas who wanted Harrie to work the extra hours in his tattoo shop, so Dundas should be paying to replace her. And there’d been no point to having it out with Nora because she just would’ve run rings around him, or completely ignored him, like she always did.

But it was worse than that, much worse. George spat over the side of the gig, the thought, as usual, filling his mouth with bile. Dundas — with his muscular bloody arms and flat belly and flashy gold teeth — had been around at his house seeing Nora when he wasn’t home. He knew because the nosy old mot next door had come into the shop one day full of glee and told him. Nora and Dundas! God, the thought was killing him! He couldn’t bear it if he lost her. And if Harrie were gone, there’d be no connection with Dundas any more. To hell with the piddly retainer he was paying so she could draw her pictures — forfeiting that was nothing compared to the prospect of losing Nora. So Harrie had had to go.

Which was a shame in a lot of ways because she was great with the kids, and Nora thought the sun shone out of her arse, but she was sick and she really should be in the asylum. Perhaps he’d done her a favour.

He sat up. Yes, he had, actually. Now that he thought about it, he had done the right thing.

He flicked the reins and headed off to find a pub with decent food and a comfortable bed for the night.

Nora knew even before she was properly awake that George still hadn’t come home. It wasn’t the first time, of course, but on those previous occasions Harrie hadn’t also been missing. She knew he’d taken her — Hannah had seen them. She’d crept up the stairs behind her father and hidden behind the sofa (thank God for her sneaky little ways) and watched him lead her down from her attic room; then she had hung out the window and seen them going up the street. To hire a carriage to drive out to the Factory? But why hadn’t he come home last night? The return trip to Parramatta was long, she knew, and could be arduous, depending on the weather, but it was certainly achievable in one day. So where the hell was he?

Wherever it was, when he eventually did come home she was going to absolutely kill him.

Without looking at the clock, she knew it was barely past dawn. She got out of bed, dressed quickly, washed her face, dragged a brush through her hair and went out to the parlour to stoke the fire for the kettle. The kids would be awake soon — she would trot around to the Siren’s Arms then.

‘Well, where the fuck is he, then?’ Friday demanded.

‘How the hell should I know?’

‘He’s your bloody husband.’

‘Not for much bloody longer,’ Nora said through gritted teeth.

‘Christ!’ Friday ran her hands through her hair, and swore again as her fingers caught in the knots.

‘I did have one horrible thought,’ Nora said. She’d had an unpleasant hour or so pondering this. ‘He could have taken her to the asylum.’

‘Oh, Jesus.’ Friday was horrified. ‘That would just … that would kill her!’ She reached under the bed and felt around for the bottle of gin stashed there, and took a long swig. ‘But why there? Why not the Factory?’

‘I don’t know, but it’s the only reason I can think of for him not coming home last night. It’s a longer trip because of the distance and the bad road. Do you have to do that? It’s not even eight o’clock yet.’

Friday ignored her. ‘So what are we going to do? How the hell do you get someone out of a place like that?’

‘I really don’t know. If that’s where she actually is. As soon as my noble husband turns up, I’ll find out and I’ll let you know.’

‘You’d better,’ Friday said, stifling a burp.

Nora lost her temper. ‘Look, you, don’t you go ordering me around.’

‘Well, she’s my friend.’

‘She’s my friend, too,’ Nora shot back, ‘and my responsibility. Which is why I’d rather be out looking for her than sitting around getting swattled. And belching and farting like a pig.’

Friday banged her gin bottle on the nightstand. ‘You’ve got no bloody idea, have you? My friend drowned the other day, someone I … cared about a lot’s left me, Janie and Rosie are dead and Charlotte’s in that poxy orphanage, and I’ve been worried sick about Harrie and a whole lot of other things. You just don’t know.’

‘Oh, boo hoo. Life isn’t easy for anyone, girl. Now pull yourself together. Harrie needs you.’

Stung, Friday said, ‘And how do we know your stupid, selfish bloody husband hasn’t murdered her? Eh? Have you thought of that?’

‘He hasn’t because he doesn’t have the balls. I know him. Now get up, get dressed and go and tell Sarah what’s happened.’

Friday glared at her, but as soon as Nora had gone she burst into tears. This was all just too much. She wanted nothing more than to drink herself senseless, pass out and hope that when she came to, someone else had fixed everything. But it never worked like that, and she knew it.

James opened the door, his hat on and his doctor’s bag in his hand. He looked startled and more than a little alarmed to see them. ‘Oh. Hello. I’m just on my way to the surgery.’

‘Harrie’s missing,’ Sarah said without preamble. ‘We think George Barrett’s taken her either to the Factory or to Liverpool asylum.’

He stared at them. ‘Harrie? To the asylum? But … why?’

‘Because she’s gone completely unhinged,’ Friday said. ‘Barking. And George wants to get rid of her.’

James dropped his bag. It contained a heavy pharmaceutical text, a bottle of brandy and an assortment of medical implements, and landed on the ground with a loud bang. Both Friday and Sarah jumped.

‘When was this?’

‘Yesterday. You have to help us, James. Please,’ Sarah implored. ‘We have to get her back.’

‘I had no idea she’d deteriorated so much.’ A suspicious frown creased James’s face. ‘Or has she? I wouldn’t put it past George Barrett to get rid of her just to avoid the burden of her care.’

Friday said, ‘No, she really has, and you’d have known it if you’d gone to see her.’

‘Look, I damn well tried and she refused outright. I could hardly force my way into the Barretts’ home, could I?’

‘Some bad things have happened, James,’ Sarah said. ‘They’ve pushed her over the edge.’

‘Well, of course I’ll help. But which is it? The Factory or the asylum?’

‘Don’t know,’ Sarah said. ‘Harrie and George went missing yesterday morning. George isn’t back yet and that makes Nora think he took her out to Liverpool, not Parramatta, because Liverpool’s a longer trip. We’re waiting for him to get back.’

James checked his watch. ‘I’ll get through my patients as quickly as possible and try to finish by two o’clock, then I’ll meet you two at the Barretts’. Can you manage that?’

‘Shite. I have to start work at one,’ Friday said. ‘Will you come and tell me what happens? Or send a message?’ she asked Sarah.

‘I’ll need to talk to Adam,’ Sarah said. Then she shook her head. ‘No, bugger it, I’ll be there, James.’

George arrived home at half past two, tired from getting up so early and with a sore arse from sitting on the hard seat of the gig for two days straight. He was also dreading what Nora was going to say about what he’d done, but that couldn’t be helped. Once he fired Emma and got a new girl from the Factory — one who worked full time, for free, and only in the house — she’d see what a good idea it was. And he wouldn’t have to worry about Leo Dundas any more.

As he trudged up the stairs to the parlour, he noticed the absence of noise in the house. Usually the kids were making a hell of a racket, but not today. Nora hadn’t been in her shop, either. A horrible thought occurred to him and his stomach clenched into a hard, painful ball — was she so angry at what he’d done that she’d taken the kids and gone? But she couldn’t. The kids were his — any magistrate in the colony would uphold that. He stepped onto the landing and nearly fainted with relief when he saw her sitting on the sofa.

‘Nora.’

‘Where the hell have you been? And where’s Harrie?’

He sat down beside her. She stood up and moved away.

‘Where are the kids?’ he asked.

‘Next door. I said, where’s Harrie?’

‘She was sick, love. I took her to a place where they can give her the best care possible.’

‘Where?’

George knew his voice sounded shaky, so he spoke louder to control it. ‘The asylum at Liverpool. The superintendent there says she has mania and melancholia. She’s really very poorly.’

Nora’s fists clenched and her face looked drained of blood. George had never seen her so angry. ‘You fat, selfish sod,’ she hissed. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this.’

‘We’ll get a new girl.’

‘I don’t want a new girl. I want Harrie! And that’s not the point. You dumped her as though she’s a piece of rubbish, just because she’s ill!’

‘Everyone else does it.’

‘No, not everyone, George. Just mean, greedy bastards like you.’

‘I am not greedy. Anyway, she’s never going to get better. Anyone could see that.’

James stepped out of the children’s bedroom. George almost shat himself.

‘That’s not true, Mr Barrett,’ he said. ‘With the right treatment, care and rest, Harrie could very well recover.’

‘Who the hell let you in here?’ George blustered, his heart pounding violently as the doctor strode across the floor and loomed over him. He’d forgotten about how keen James Downey was on Harrie.

‘I did,’ Nora said.

‘I have a proposition for you,’ James said. ‘Permit me to buy Harrie’s assignment papers from you. She will then become my responsibility.’

George snatched with both hands at the unexpected chance to make some money. ‘Ten pounds. No, fifteen! Fifteen quid and you can have them.’

Nora marched over to the sofa and booted him in the shin. ‘A shilling, George. We’ll transfer Harrie’s papers to Dr Downey for one shilling.’

‘One piddling bob! What if I refuse?’

‘Then I’ll leave you.’

‘Not with my kids, you won’t,’ George said, defiantly staring up into Nora’s face. Noting her expression, however, he immediately regretted his comment.

‘Then I’ll have more. With another man,’ Nora replied, her voice as cold as a snowy January day in London.

Oh God, George thought, his heart racing now and his palms suddenly sweaty. She meant Dundas. He knew it. He dug Harrie’s assignment papers out of his satchel and handed them to her. She fetched a nib and ink and signed them, then he did, followed by the doctor; the shilling was handed over, and Harrie was in effect assigned to James Downey.

‘One more thing,’ James said.

‘What?’ George muttered.

James punched him full in the face, knocking him backwards onto the sofa, which he slid off like a half-empty sack of spuds until he came to rest on the floor, blood trickling from his nose.

‘You deserved that,’ Nora said.

Sarah, who’d been sitting on the Barretts’ stairs, her ears flapping madly, sprang to her feet when James came pounding down.

‘Jesus, did you hit him?’

Wincing, James flapped a set of grazed knuckles at her. Sarah’s opinion of him rose even further.

‘Did you hear all that?’ he asked.

‘Some of it. Not the beginning.’

James opened the back door. ‘Would she really have left him?’

‘Not sure but I doubt it. She’d never leave her kids. What are you doing now?’

‘Riding out to Liverpool.’ James looked at the sky.

‘Will you make it before dark?’

‘I can find somewhere to sleep if necessary.’

‘You will bring her back, won’t you?’

‘I won’t be leaving without her.’

On the street they parted ways — James to fetch his horse from the stables, Sarah to tell Friday what had happened. She hurried down Gloucester Street, ducked down a lane into Harrington then turned into Argyle, almost running by the time she reached Mrs Hislop’s front door. She banged the knocker hard until Mrs Hislop answered, looking faintly irritated.

‘I need to talk to Friday. It’s urgent.’

‘Hello, Sarah. I’m afraid she’s upstairs with a customer.’

‘Five minutes? Please? It’s about Harrie.’

‘Well, come in. I’ll just check in the book to see how long she’ll be.’

As Elizabeth disappeared into her office, Sarah darted silently past the door and up the stairs. Opening the first door she came to, she apologised and shut it again, quickly. The second room was empty, but she found who she wanted in the third.