After changing hackneys four times to ensure I wasn't being followed, I made it back to my temporary lodgings and closed myself in my room. My back against the locked door, I sank to the floor and stopped trying to be the collected, impervious female I'd always believed my mother to be.
I pulled off my now sweaty gloves and dropped them on the floor. My arms wrapped around my stomach, I swallowed hard again and again. A whimper sounded in my throat as I closed my eyes. What was I going to do? How was I supposed to remain safe when Keene had seen right through my disguise?
Why had Keene even been there? Did he know my father had a bank account at that specific account and watched to see whether I would appear? How much did those men know such an intimate detail about my family? What did they want from us?
My heart was racing in my chest, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. Could I ever leave Mrs. Arnold's house again? Twice my path has crossed that of my kidnappers, and in a city as large as London! The odds were not in my favor that I would be able to continue evading them.
Tears escaped my eyes. I just wanted to find my parents and I didn't know how I could do it. Could I? Was there any point in a fourteen-year-old girl trying to do anything? It seemed all I was capable of doing was narrowly escaping kidnappers. I'd been in London three days and hadn't found help, hadn't found a clue to my parents' whereabouts and had only encountered more trouble.
"What am I going to do?" I whispered. I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. "What can I do?"
There was no answer in the silence of my room. It was almost a relief to cry into my knees. My chest ached. I wanted nothing more than to be safely in the embrace of both of my parents and forget this even happened.
"I have to find them," I whispered. The declaration helped me to calm my nerves and straighten my shoulders. I opened my eyes. "I'm the only one who knows they are missing. I simply cannot go where there is any chance Keene or Braxton or that other man can see me. And I have to get rid of this dress."
Which was a shame. I loved the blue color of the fabric and how the dress looked on me. There was no way around it, though. Even if the men didn't care about fashion, they'd seen me in it. Mum would understand when she learned why I had to dispose of it.
And I knew just where to take it. There was a small shop just down the street that proclaimed it sold second-hand clothes. Not only would I be able to sell them my mother's traveling gown, but I would be able to purchase...No. Perhaps it would be better if I went to a different shop to get another outfit.
Just knowing what my next course of action would be was enough to calm me down. My breakdown had left me tired. I let my legs drop down, but remained sitting against the door. Unable to motivate myself to move, I began to hum and then to sing.
"The ballroom was filled with fashion's throng,
It shone with a thousand lights,
And there was a woman who passed along,
The fairest of all the sights,
A girl to her lover then softly sighed,
There's riches at her command;
But she married for wealth, not for love, he cried,
Though she lives in a mansion grand."
I'd learned the song the previous year, fascinated by the melancholy story it told. The maudlin tone suited my own mood. I felt very much like I was in a cage, though not a gilded one as spoken of in the lyrics.
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The Opera Singer's Daughter (A Sherlock Holmes Spin-Off Novel)
Historical Fiction1902: Fourteen-year-old Aida Briar Norton's life at school is interrupted when two men arrive, claiming they are to take her to her parents. Every instinct declares that they are lying, but Aida has no choice but to go with them when they produce a...