Godspeed

Chapter 3

I don’t know exactly when I actually lost consciousness. I only recall that I awoke to a dizzying, indescribable odor that burned my nose and lungs.

When my vision returned to something resembling focus, I saw a small bottle held near my face and realized someone had revived me on purpose. I came to the startling discovery that I was no longer in the rain, nor did I feel cold. I was, most assuredly, indoors.

In fact I was propped up on an elegant divan, situated beneath several blankets and in front of a vibrant fire. A fine, full tea service sat on the table before me, though I knew that I lacked the strength to reach out to pick up the cup, even if I had been welcome to.

I didn’t know if I was welcome. I didn’t know where I was, at all.

My eyes settled upon a man with bright blond hair and large, angular eyes the color of pitch. He was extravagantly dressed — costumed, really — in a red, crushed velvet coat. It was worn over a blouson shirt of whitest linen that boasted cascades of intricate lace trim on cuffs and ruffled collar. His trousers were made of leather and his boots were calf-high, with many large, square buckles that glimmered as he crossed one leg over the other.

He was a good match for his surroundings, though I had never seen the like of either before.

The room itself was well appointed with elegantly upholstered furnishings and eclectic fixtures. I began to wonder, and worry, what such a man would expect in repayment for the service of bringing my lifeless body in from the unkind world outside.

He offered me a small smile as he said, “Welcome back.” He reached for the pot and poured steaming tea into the cups. “You’ve had an awful chill. How do you take your tea?”

“I…” My voice failed, and so he continued on for me.

“Milk and sugar?”

I gave a pitiful excuse for a nod in reply, the only response of which I currently felt capable.

As afraid as I was of what he might do to me, I quickly came to the conclusion that he could have done plenty already if he had wanted to, and yet so far all he’d shown me was concern and care. I thought of all the times my father had shown such kindness in his life wherever he could, and I wondered if there wasn’t a way that he was watching over me from the afterlife, and sent this stranger to take me off of the streets before I caught my death — or worse, was taken in by much less scrupulous individuals to be exploited.

The man brought the delicate, rose covered china cup to my lips and tilted it toward me. I took the liquid in a bit too eagerly, and my throat refused to cooperate with the simple act of swallowing. I choked and he pulled the cup away, holding it in both hands while he waited for me to recover.

“You must be as hungry as you are thirsty, though I would recommend we take that part more slowly.” He smiled once again; speaking to me as I imagined someone would if I were an old and long-treasured friend. “Dinner will not be ready for an hour, but there are biscuits here, and I will see if any other bakery from this afternoon’s proper tea remains.”

“Thank you.” I formed the words with my lips but no sound followed, aside from the hollow wheezing my breathing had become.

“Quite all right, young woman. Once we’re certain you’re well, we will contact whomever we must to see about returning you safely home.” Even as the man spoke the words, he seemed to doubt that they could indicate a practical course of action. Young women did not break down on the streets of Fairever if they had a family and home they could safely return to.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me, and I forced myself to try to speak more clearly.

“Suitcase?”