Bone weary, Samuel pulled his jacket around him and stepped into the cool night. Or, rather, early morning. This day seemed to be without end, bleeding from one rise of the sun to nearly the next. His body yearned for rest, and his footsteps fell heavily upon the quiet street. It had been a harrowing journey, if not an overly lengthy one, from the army encampment to Washington.
Wind skittered through the city, snagging on refuse and the ever-present rotting offal piled knee-deep near the monument. Only the thought of his feather bed and two smiling faces come morning kept him moving toward home.
Two days after the army surgeon arrived, Samuel had been given his leave to return to Washington. Strangely, leaving had been more difficult than he’d imagined. The army hospital ran smoothly, and he believed the men in his assigned regiment were better for having benefitted from the stringent way he kept things. His replacement, a sour looking man with untamed whiskers, didn’t seem adequately concerned with cleanliness, and he certainly didn’t find mental rest and rejuvenation a proper component of healing. Samuel could only hope the men would not grow too discouraged during the long, monotonous months of winter.
He pulled his collar around his neck, weary feet picking their way around discarded papers that foretold ongoing trouble. Somewhere off to his left, a drunken man serenaded an alleyway, his voice bouncing on the brick walls and creating a haunting tune. Samuel quickened his pace. Would this day never end?
By the time he’d made it back into Washington through the multitude of barricades and checkpoints, it had been near evening. He’d considered shirking his duty and reporting to the infirmary in the morning, but had discarded the notion and continued to the hospital as he’d been instructed, though the hour had grown woefully late. Dr. Porter then insisted on taking him through the halls and explaining every minute detail about what had occurred in his absence. The doctor had seemed pleased with Samuel’s report from the stone house hospital, and he couldn’t bring himself to dampen the man’s enthusiasm by requesting to return home.
He’d been somewhat dismayed to learn that all of the remainder of the medical students had left the infirmary. They’d been given their final paperwork and sent out to do a varying degree of assignments. His friend Marcus Hammond would be serving as a field medic. Samuel prayed he would do well in the position. Others had returned home or volunteered their services, but in one manner or another had advanced to the next stage of their lives. All except him.
Whether Dr. Porter doubted his abilities or exalted them, Samuel had yet to decipher. Regardless, he still lacked the one thing he needed to complete his medical license. He’d finished the hours, passed the final assessment, and now waited on the signature the primary physician remained reluctant to pen.
Amid the exhaustion, disappointment, and confusion, one blessing stood out. Dr. Porter had, indeed, treated the private with the amputation for infection as Samuel had requested prior to leaving Washington. The man healed fine, and though Dr. Porter claimed there was still no evidence that the soldier wouldn’t have been fine without treatment, he’d administered it all the same.
Dr. Porter didn’t complete his rounds until deep into the night, and then Samuel had stayed on longer when a soldier suddenly experienced an apoplexy attack. By the time the man had been stabilized and was resting comfortably, the clock had chimed twice. Now, he’d finally find some rest for the ache in his feet.
Something moved. Down the street, a shadow bobbed through the gloom, bouncing to and fro like a misguided spirit. Samuel slowed his steps, his eyes narrowing. The apparition gained speed, hurdling itself toward him at a reckless pace. He shook his head. Likely another poor fellow who’d thought he could erase his sorrows at the bottom of the bottle and instead found himself running from imagined foes.
Not in the state of mind to encounter one such as that, Samuel took three more strides and then tucked himself into an alcove in the shadowed entry of a haberdashery. He’d let the fellow pass by, and then he’d continue home in peace.
Evelyn’s lungs burned and moisture stung her eyes, making it all the more difficult to see in the dark. Many of the streetlamps had either gone out or hadn’t been lit at all. She slowed, her heart hammering so rapidly it hurt. Pressing a hand into her aching side, she tried to get a sense of her bearings. Nothing looked familiar. How was she to find the Halverson Hotel?
Washington in the dark was not at all what she remembered from her society days. Whenever she and Isabella traveled, it had been by carriage and with an escort. She’d never been out on the city streets alone. And certainly not at night.
The chilling wind caught a discarded newsprint, hurling it up in the air and sending it dancing. She glanced around at the unfamiliar buildings, the damp and crumpled papers stuffed in her stockings uncomfortable. She’d hoped to find her hotel, and then as that seemed all the more unlikely the longer she wandered, had prayed to at least locate a friendly establishment where she might find safety. But no such place was to be had at this hour.
She still had to get rid of the papers, but shy of crouching in the shadows somewhere and pulling them free, she’d not found an opportunity. What had those men been thinking? Tossing a woman into the streets at night was impermissible.
Why, when she told her father—
The thought cut off as a large shadow separated itself from the front of the building she passed and snaked toward her. Evelyn yelped and jumped back, tripping on her hem and coming down hard on her backside. Her teeth jarred in her skull and pain shot up her spine. A scream lodged in her throat as the shadow sprang forward, thrusting a paw at her as she sat helpless on the ground.
“Miss?”
She sucked air and tried to scoot backward, her infuriating skirts tangling her feet and ensnaring her in this nefarious man’s trap.
“Miss? Are you all right?”
It took her a moment to realize that the shadow had not moved any closer, nor had it made any attempt to fall upon her. She stilled, something pricking at her senses that she could not place.
“Miss, if you are lost, I would assist you to your destination.”
That rich voice, smooth as a river stone, washed over her with a keen sense of amazement. “Doctor Flynn?” She could scarcely believe it. Had she not left this man at the army encampment? And now he emerged from the shadows in her path? It seemed both impossible and, at the same time, an answer to a desperate prayer. Of all the men in Washington, he would be one of the few she would trust.
He stepped closer, disbelief in his voice. “Miss Mapleton? Good heavens, is that you?”
Relief, thick and sweet as honey, poured through her. “I’m afraid so.” She lifted her hand. “Would you mind?” She was suddenly keenly aware of her skirts. Thank heavens she’d only worn layers of petticoats and not a crinoline cage! Having it fly up in front of Yankee miscreants had been humiliation enough. She would have not been able to stand the same happening in front of the doctor.
His large palm enveloped her hand and firm fingers gripped her tight. With his other hand he stabilized her elbow and righted her. He dropped her hand as soon as she gained her feet, but kept his grip on her arm. She found comfort in that.
“Miss Mapleton, what are you doing on the streets of Washington in the middle of the night?”
She blinked in the darkness, trying to get a better look at his face. “I could ask you the same question.”
He chuckled, probably finding the circumstances as unbelievable as she. “I was on my way home after a late night in the wards.”
A shiver fluttered down her spine that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. “I was visiting a friend who was arrested, her home and person searched, and then I was tossed out on the streets with nary an escort or means of transportation.” The words tumbled out, once more seeming incapable of staying properly confined whenever she stood in this man’s presence. And the nearer to him she found herself, the worse the problem became. She stepped back, and he released her arm. She felt all the colder for the loss.
“That is quite the tale.” He seemed more in awe than suspicious, though Evelyn would have expected the latter.
Still, she bristled. “I thought you were an army doctor out at Chain Bridge.”
He leaned forward as though trying to make out her features in the paltry light of a waning moon. “I’m a medical student finishing my licensing procedure at the Washington Infirmary. I was merely sent to Chain Bridge for experience and to help until the assigned army surgeon could arrive.” He stepped closer, and the faint scent of soap and shaving oil tickled her nose. “Miss Mapleton, as enchanting as this turn of Providence is, I would prefer to get off the street.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle. “As would I. May I trouble you to show me how to get to the Halverson Hotel? I fear I’ve become turned around in the dark.”
“I would rather take you home.”
She gasped. “I beg your pardon?”
He chuckled heartily, a robust sound not suited for the shifting night shadows nor for a man who had spoken with great impropriety.
“Just because I stayed with the army doesn’t mean—”
“Whoa,” he said, as if quieting a spirited horse. “You jump to rash assumptions, Miss Mapleton. My home is naught but another few steps from here. I cannot in good conscience leave you alone but, forgive me, I’m far too tired to walk the half mile it would take to reach the Halverson.”
Evelyn worked her fingers in the fabric of her rumpled skirt, feeling foolish. She straightened her spine, though she knew he could no better see her in the darkness than she could him. “Staying in the home of an unmarried man isn’t proper.” A sudden thought leapt up and surprised her. “You’re not married, are you?”
“I’m not.” He spoke straightforwardly, as he always seemed to do. “However, to ease your worry, we will not be alone.”
“Oh?”
“Mrs. Tooley keeps residence with me.”
She burned to ask more, but the itching papers on her legs and the weariness brought on by fear, flight, and the night’s chill sucked the questions right out of her like starving leaches. “I thank you for your kindness.”
He took her elbow and turned her back the way she had come. She must have passed his residence in her wayward run. Relaxing under his gentle guidance, she allowed her gaze to try to pick apart the features of the darkened buildings. Which of the neat townhomes belonged to a doctor? She didn’t have to wonder long, because, true to his word, they traveled but a few more paces before he steered her to the left and helped her up a short flight of stairs.
“What of your friend Miss Avery? Has she had any lasting ailments caused by her fall?”
The thought of Alice still trapped at Mrs. Greenman’s tightened her stomach. “She is well.” Why did that feel like a lie?
The doctor patted around in his pockets for a moment and then produced a key. He led her into the pleasantly warm entry space. Her shoes clicked across the floor, and in a few moments, Mr. Flynn had located a lamp and struck a match. He turned up the wick, and golden light bathed his features.
Reddened eyes studied her so intensely that she self-consciously placed a hand to her hair, wondering what state of disarray the lamplight had revealed. She’d not been given the option to retrieve her bonnet, which she’d taken off along with her gloves at Mrs. Greenman’s this afternoon. Had it only been this afternoon? It seemed days ago.
“Miss Mapleton, I will request of you an explanation for the events that sent you into the streets.”
She hesitated, knowing it would likely lead to a tangled thread of events she could not explain away to his satisfaction.
“But for now, I’m devoid of energy, and I suspect you feel the same. I shall wake Mrs. Tooley to prepare a room for you.” He turned toward a staircase with carved banisters.
“Oh, but that is not necessary.”
He looked at her over his shoulder, clearly befuddled. “You will not be returning outside.”
“You don’t need to wake your…” She searched for the right title, not knowing what position the woman held. “Your maid at this hour. I will be pleased to take rest in the parlor, if you don’t mind.”
He frowned.
“I’d rather not cause a fuss in your household. I’m fine resting upon a settee.”
His eyes darted to the door to her right that likely led to the parlor. “It’s not proper for a lady to sleep on a settee.”
A laugh bubbled out of her. “Well, I daresay a settee is a great deal better than sleeping in an army tent.” She snapped her mouth shut. Why couldn’t she keep from revealing herself?
His jaw tightened, and her gaze skittered across the dark stubble that shadowed it. She’d laid her eyes upon him many times while Alice recovered, and not once had she seen the darkening of his jaw. An odd sensation to know what its roughness might feel like under her fingers had her clasping her hands behind her back.
A small smile tugged on his lips, and for one terrifying heartbeat, she thought he’d read her mind. “In that, it seems you would be correct. Another curiosity I would like satisfied. However, I still must insist.” He turned to the staircase.
“Mr. Flynn!” A voice tumbled down the stairs, startling them both. A woman wrapped in a sage dressing gown with a cap haphazardly pulled over her gray tresses hurried to the foyer. “I did not know you were back from…” Her gaze fell on Evelyn.
“I’ve just returned this day but was occupied at the infirmary until this late hour. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He followed the stunned woman’s gaze to Evelyn. “This is Miss Mapleton. She’s in need of a room for the evening.”
The older woman’s eyes rounded, and she turned to the doctor for further explanation.
“I’m rather exhausted, Mrs. Tooley, and have a great longing for my bed. If you would kindly see that our guest also has a bed for the evening, I would be much obliged.”
Evelyn dipped her chin to the befuddled housekeeper. “I would be exceedingly grateful, ma’am. I’ve had a harrowing day.”
As though finding her senses, the woman came alive with a flutter of hands. “Oh, you poor dear! Come, now, let us get you settled!” She waved Evelyn toward the stairs like a wayward child.
Doctor Flynn bade them a good night and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Evelyn in the hands of Mrs. Tooley, whose rounded cheeks dimpled when she spoke a string of instructions and comments Evelyn could scarcely keep up with. Keenly aware of the papers in her stockings, Evelyn walked gingerly up the staircase behind the housekeeper.
Light pooled in the hall where the doctor had apparently lit the wall lamp. It washed over burgundy carpeting that muffled her steps and glinted off two mirrors hanging from the papered wall. Mrs. Tooley opened a mahogany door and scuttled inside, lighting lamps and mumbling something about the cold.
Evelyn followed, her gaze darting around the room. The burgundy carpeting continued inside the chamber, offset by cream quilts and heavy curtains. The canopied bed was neither grand nor lacking, and the entire room seemed to be an interesting aggregate of simple and elegant. From the plain porcelain washbasin to the carved marble-top dresser, the room seemed comfortable and homey.
“We need to get you a fire going,” Mrs. Tooley stated, eyeing the cold hearth. “I can fetch a few logs from the kitchen to take the chill out of the air.”
Not only would she welcome the added warmth, the fire would make destroying Mrs. Greenman’s papers all the easier. Tension eased from her shoulders. “I hate to trouble you, but it would be nice to warm myself.”
Mrs. Tooley smiled, her features reminding Evelyn of a kindly grandmother from a children’s tale. “It’s no trouble at all, dear. I’ve always been an early riser, so an hour or two more to my day doesn’t make much difference.” She clasped her hands. “Oh! And since I’ve the extra time, I’ll make those pastries Mr. Flynn is fond of.”
The thought of pastries made Evelyn’s empty stomach grumble, the afternoon’s tea and tarts long gone. She wrapped her arms around herself to stifle the sound as much as possible as the housekeeper bustled out. Alone, Evelyn wasted not a moment untying her petticoats and letting them slip to the floor. Then, with quick fingers, she pulled the chafing papers from her stockings, stuffing the crumpled mess underneath the pillow on the bed.
She had finished the task and was retying her skirts when a tap at the door announced Mrs. Tooley’s presence an instant before she stepped into the room. My, but the woman was fast! She had a woven basket draped over one arm filled with fire kindling poking out in all directions. In her hand, she carried a plate.
Evelyn’s eyes snapped up to the woman’s face.
Mrs. Tooley grinned. “You sounded a mite hungry. It’s not much, just yesterday’s bread smeared with a little jam, but perhaps it will hold you over till breakfast.”
She accepted the offering with gratitude and followed Mrs. Tooley’s instructions to sit and eat. The jam made from strawberries was sweet and delicious, and while Mrs. Tooley busied herself with the fire, Evelyn secretly licked her fingers.
Her task complete, Mrs. Tooley brushed her hands on her dressing gown. “Now then. That should take the chill out of the room.” She stepped toward the bed. “We’ll turn your bedding down and—”
“No!” Evelyn lurched into the woman’s path, and Mrs. Tooley startled. “I mean, you’ve done plenty. I can see to my rest now.”
Mrs. Tooley lifted her eyebrows, then merely shrugged. “Very well. I’ll get on about the morning necessities, then.”
Alone, Evelyn slid the door latch into place as quietly as possible and headed for the bed. She grabbed a handful of papers, eager to see what information the acclaimed lady-spy had gathered. She quickly scanned one page and then another.
Line after line contained drivel about family visits, new clothing, and other mundane nonsense. For this she had risked imprisonment? Had run through dangerous streets? Disgusted, she tossed the leaflets one by one into the fire and watched them curl. Her second trip to the pillow cleaned out the cache, and with a final handful, she turned to the fire to see this mess finished.
She’d nearly tossed every letter in when one page caught her attention. Evelyn set the others on the brick hearth and stared at the one in her hand. Strange symbols, vaguely resembling the Greek lettering she’d learned in the female college, littered the page. She turned it one way, and then the other, but could not make sense of the meaning. For this, Mrs. Greenman had likely hidden the folio away.
Evelyn watched the fire dance for a few moments, and then with nimble fingers folded the slip of paper into a small square.
With a fling of her hand, the paper sailed into the fire. The remaining letters, of no consequence, were tossed into the flames as well. Why Mrs. Greenman had wrapped all of it around Evelyn’s legs, she could not fathom. The one small paper would have been much easier to hide. But then, perhaps the letters only seemed mundane.
It mattered little now. She ached from head to foot, and her body longed to seek the comforts of the bed. She removed her mother’s pearl necklace, then pulled off the russet dress and draped it over a chair back.
She slipped between the cool press of quilt and mattress. Before she even had time to allow her body to warm the bedding, she drifted into a troubled sleep.