I awoke in a big brass bed. It was morning. Sun beat against the still-drawn curtains, making the room feel stifling hot. A drumming sound filled my head, and for a second I thought I was back on the ship in steerage. Only I wasn’t, I was in a fancy bedchamber.
We’d travelled into the night to reach Niagara Falls. The noise hit me as soon as I’d stepped off the train. It sounded like distant thunder or the rumbling belly of a horse. A cab took us through dark streets to a house signposted, ‘Mrs Franklin’s Lodgings’, where Mr Wellbeloved said he always stayed. For Gabriel and me, he’d booked the rooms either side of his own. This was where I found myself now.
The bed was too big for me alone. It needed Pip crawling up it to lick me good morning. And the room itself, all dried flowers and frills, didn’t feel right either. What I’d give to see a painted chair or a hand-knitted blanket. Or to smell lapsang tea as it steamed in my cup. All at once I felt a great ache for home.
I’d not even Mam’s taffeta heart to comfort me. It seemed an omen for everything I felt, especially in my dream of finding Mam. Where was the empress Miss Lilly’s cards had promised? The only person watching over me was Mr Wellbeloved, and that didn’t feel much like help. My lip started trembling. Then came tears, great fat ones dripping off my cheeks and onto the pillow.
Eventually, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. So far I’d not helped Gabriel much, and though I was sorry, it shouldn’t make me lose sight of why I was here. Most of all, I wanted to go home proud and happy. And I wanted it to be soon.
Getting out of bed, I threw open the windows. Instantly, the growl of the Falls became a roar. I stepped onto a little balcony, blinking in the sunshine. The ravine lay about two hundred yards ahead. Trees gave way to bare rock and then, far below, the river ran white and furious. The sight made my stomach twist.
Clear as day, I saw the headline: HORROR AND DISGUST AS CHILDREN PLUMMET TO THEIR DOOM. And back at Chipchase’s, I imagined Jasper reading the newspapers and wondering who this Master Blondin and Little Miss Blondin were. Perhaps even Ned would too. Knife sharp, I felt another pang for home. It almost made me turn and run. Yet something held me to the spot.
My eyes followed the river upstream, past the big steel bridge that spanned the gorge. A fluttering started in my belly. I knew this scene from the pictures in my scrapbook. Dotted among the trees were more houses joined by dirt roads, and then bigger buildings that might’ve been factories or mills. Further on, a mist hung over the water. As I craned my neck, I saw what looked like a park with tents in it.
Further on still, blimey, there they were, Niagara Falls themselves. Or rather, two waterfalls. The smaller American Falls were on this side of the ravine. Up ahead were Horseshoe Falls, the water like a wall curving from one bank to the other. The sound was never-ending. A rushing, rumbling noise like it was inside your skull. None of it felt quite real. I was spellbound.
And in that moment it all made sense; why Blondin had walked Niagara Falls, and why we would too. It wasn’t just the glory of performing for the crowds, or the money. It was more about taking their breath away. Doing something extraordinary. Making punters forget their woes for a few measly minutes, and being sure they’d never forget you.
But for Gabriel it wasn’t like that. He’d nearly come to grief that night at Chipchase’s. To freeze up over Niagara Falls, with no wooden platform ten steps behind, would be horrifying. It was too risky – for both of us. Mr Wellbeloved had to change his mind. Yet no one said no to him, so Gabriel reckoned. And I was beginning to see what he meant.
I went back inside and dressed quickly. Just as I reached the door, I heard voices in the hallway. One was a woman’s with a strange, lilting accent. The other belonged to Mr Wellbeloved.
‘Kindly let me pass, before this water goes cold,’ said the woman. It was Mrs Franklin, who owned the lodgings.
‘Don’t you have a maid for that?’ said Mr Wellbeloved.
‘She’s busy with all these guests arriving for your show.’
‘Then hire another one.’
‘I can’t just do that.’
‘You can if I tell you to.’
‘Please let go of my wrist,’ Mrs Franklin said. Then came a sharp cry. ‘You’re hurting me!’
‘I need to trust you,’ he said in a low hiss, ‘with the girl. You know very well who she is.’
Girl? Did he mean me? I crouched near the keyhole to hear more.
A rustle of skirts. Another squeal. I flinched.
‘I’ve trusted you this far,’ Mr Wellbeloved said. ‘Don’t let me down now.’
There was more whispering, then retreating footsteps. I guessed they’d both gone.
Then came a knock at the door. I leaped away from it quick.
Mr Wellbeloved didn’t wait to be asked in. He shut the door behind him and slammed a jug of hot water down on the washstand. ‘So, my dear, have you worked it out yet?’
‘Worked out what, sir?’
‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’
I shuddered like someone had walked over my grave. Sharpfield. So he had remembered.
‘As soon as I saw you, I knew,’ he said.
‘Knew what?’
Mr Wellbeloved studied me closely, head on one side. ‘Your hair. It’s quite unusual, don’t you think?’
Anyone else saying it and I’d have grinned and said thank you. Instead, I tucked my hair behind my ears with a scowl.
‘Mr Chipchase didn’t like it,’ I said. ‘He made me cover it up, often as not.’
Mr Wellbeloved looked amused. ‘Did he now?’
But it wasn’t funny, not to me. It didn’t feel right to talk of Mr Chipchase either, and I wished I’d kept quiet. I tried to reach the door again, but he put an arm out to stop me.
‘Louisa,’ he said. ‘Listen to me. It means nothing that I chose Gabriel. I could’ve chosen anyone, just as long as I chose someone over you.’
I stared at him. What on earth did he mean? The man was clearly warped.
Then I remembered what he’d said about the ship’s gate and me climbing it.
‘I knew you’d come anyway,’ he said. ‘And the harder I made it for you, the more you’d want it. Like I said, you’ve got guts.’
It sounded bizarre, yet it also made sense: the trunk full of dresses, the offering to pay my passage. It was as if he’d been expecting me. I shuddered again. What kind of person would plan such a thing?
‘I needed to know you’d be up to the task,’ he said. ‘Crossing the Falls isn’t for the faint-hearted.’
‘So why make Gabriel do it?’
Mr Wellbeloved folded his arms. ‘Gabriel is my performer, Louisa. He does as I say, and that’s final.’
I opened my mouth to plead. Then shut it again. It was pointless. One look at those pale eyes and I knew the case was closed.
‘The crowd must expect danger,’ Mr Wellbeloved said. ‘You know that as well as I do.’
I did. The whiff of death.
‘Believe me, I know,’ he said. ‘Crossing Niagara was my dream once too.’
‘You were a performer?’
‘Indeed. Yet someone else crossed the Falls first.’
‘Blondin,’ I whispered.
‘Indeed, Monsieur Blondin.’ Mr Wellbeloved sneered at the name. ‘Now it’s your turn, and we must give the public something different. Something original.’
My head was spinning. What an odd way to do business. Not at all like Mr Chipchase; you knew where you were with him. With Mr Wellbeloved, everything was so . . . well . . . twisted.
‘First we must eat,’ he said.
Not that I had much appetite now. But I was relieved when he finally opened the door. Halfway through it, he stopped.
‘Ah, yes, I nearly forgot.’ He reached inside his jacket and pulled something out. ‘I do believe this is yours.’
He held out a clenched fist, turned it over and opened his fingers. Lying on his palm was my mam’s red taffeta heart.
‘Oh, sir! I hunted everywhere for this and thought I’d lost it!’ I cried, taking it from him.
‘It means a lot to you, I can see.’
‘Yes . . . it’s my . . .’ I stopped.
He was staring at me queerly again. I didn’t want to talk about Mam. She was my business, not his.