The Liberator of London

Chapter 9

The wheels dip in a pothole and the whole coach rattles. My sister is at my side; she slept with her head on my shoulder. I reach for a canteen and bring it to her peeling lips. She eagerly drinks up, taking the canteen for herself.

Jacob is unmoved by the disturbance; he lays slumped opposite of me with his hood covering his sleeping face. He has a terrible snore. I watch him.

"Looks like she beat you to it, Assassin!"

My sister finishes her drink. She again nuzzles up to me. I smile down at her. Beneath the smudges of coal stains, I note she takes after Mother. She bears the same cheek contour and button nose. Her eyes, now shut, are a deep brown which invites onlookers into deeper thought.

"Jones? I should have expected this day. Come to get your revenge? Are you satisfied?"

Mr. Wright expected me to avenge something other than my sister's forced labor. I am sure of it, though his dying breath took any proof I might hope to have with it.

"You will rue this day just like your mother! Hear me?! Just like your whore mother!!!"

He knew something of my mother's death.

"Running with the likes of him will only end one way for you, girl."

Jacob's and my eyesights align. He is now awake.

"It was to my benefit. Mr. Griffith and soon Mr. Wright."

Mr. Bitlow. How does Mr. Bitlow fit into this puzzle?

"She has nothing to do with the Order."

What is the Order?

Jacob smiles softly.

* * *

All in all, the mission is a success. When we make it to London, Jacob and I part ways rather anticlimactically. He saw my sister and me, all the way home. My parting gift to him is a nod of gratitude. I fear I should have given more–we shed blood together after all. If I were in my right mind, I would have offered him something more, perhaps an invitation inside for dinner. He does not leave my street until I see him from my window; seeing all is well, he disappears into an alley and is gone.

I bathe Millie in our tin tub. I find bruises all over her body. The most prominent are the deep belt imprints on both her shoulders. She does not tell me–she was a hurrier. I tell her to forget everything that happened in the mine. It is of the past. The man who did this to her, well, he must answer to God above now.

"Millie?" Clara peeks through the door. "Can I talk to Millie now?"

Millie makes no show of excitement. Ever since we saved her, she has been like a vegetable. I tell Clara to come and say hello quickly.

"Millie!" Clara stumbles to her knees at the foot of the tub. "Millie, how I missed you so."

Millie stares off.

"Imogen? Imogen, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I say. "Go check on Theodore. Have you prepared the meal like I said?"

"Yes, but-"

"Go to Theodore."

She is hesitant, but she leaves.

Tonight, we have dinner as a family. Only, I feel Millie has left us, and now we eat with three empty seats at the table.

* * *