Eli had never travelled to Bath before. In truth, he would be glad never to have to do so again. But there was the business of a bank loan his father had taken out, and Ernest Wraith had insisted that it was a necessary for them both to meet with the owner of the bank to ensure the future of the mill.
It was all so tedious, the whole business was. As the weeks had passed by, Eli hated his father more and more for leaving him with the dreadful responsibility of it all.
They met with the bank owner in his plush offices in the centre of the city. Eli understood little of what was said. His mind kept wandering back to Lions House, and how he hated it there too. It was like a mausoleum. A dark, empty, silent tomb of a house. His mother rarely left her chamber now. And when she did, she stalked through the house like some wild animal on the hunt. She would suddenly and silently appear in a room and pounce, and it was usually Eli who fell victim to her attacks. It seemed that he could not please her these days. Nothing he did was good enough. If he did not constantly dance to her tune, or reassure her endlessly that she was beautiful and the very best of mothers and that he loved her above all else, then she would threaten to disinherit him and throw him out of the house.
‘What have you ever done for me?’ she would scream at him. ‘You deserve nothing! Do you understand? Nothing!’
He realised how much he had taken being her favourite for granted, and now that he wasn’t, he missed it terribly.
Eli began to spend much of his time in the servants’ quarters. There was life down there at least, and cheeriness, and always an offering of something tasty to eat. But he knew it wasn’t right. He knew he was crossing the line. He could sense that the servants were taking liberties. But he did not have the heart or the strength to do anything about it.
Ernest Wraith cleared his throat pointedly and Eli became aware of a sheet of paper being placed in front of him. ‘Your signature, please,’ growled the bank owner. Eli picked up the proffered pen and scrawled his name onto the bottom of the page. He had no idea what he was signing, but he did not care in the least.
Eli drifted away again. He had been thinking lately how he should like to go abroad. He should like to see something of the world. Isn’t that what all young men were supposed to do? The Grand Tour? The thought of staying in Lions House and enduring his mother’s tirades, along with the thought of having to master the complexities of business, filled him with a heaving terror.
But how could he ever get away from his mother? She could hardly bear it when he left the house for a few hours. And when he’d told her that he had to travel to Bath and it would entail an overnight stay, she had been seized by a sudden fit of apoplexy and Dr Danby had had to be sent for.
If only Alice hadn’t disappeared. It was her duty, the daughter’s duty, to be at home. It wasn’t right that everything had been left to him. It should be her at home in Lions House, helping to organise the servants and overseeing the running of the household. And although he hardly liked to admit to the thought, he knew that if Alice were at home, it would be her on the receiving end of his mother’s moods, not him. Maybe he should look for her again, Eli thought. She must be somewhere. But where to begin? He had no idea.
Ernest Wraith was thanking the bank owner. It seemed as though business was concluded for the time being. Eli left his thoughts simmering in the back of his mind and stood and shook hands too. He was sure he must have been told the man’s name, but it had slipped his mind completely.
Wraith and Eli left the office and made their way back on to the street. Wraith suggested they should perhaps take an early supper in one of the fine eating establishments tucked away down the lanes behind the Abbey. The White Post, he said, was famous for its rump steaks and fine wines. As Eli had developed a taste for wine of late, he agreed to the suggestion, thinking that a few glasses would at least soften the painful experience of an evening spent in Wraith’s company.
Wraith led the way, his chest puffed out with self-importance. ‘Come,’ he said to Eli. ‘I will show you some of the sights on the way.’
But Eli had already seen some sights. When Wraith tried to point out the splendid façade of the Assembly Rooms, Eli’s attention was focused on a line of girls walking arm in arm along the opposite pavement. Eli had seen girls like these before, of course, on a certain street corner in Bridgwater. He had seen glimpses of them at least: a pair of cherry red lips, a battered bonnet worn at a jaunty angle and layers of petticoats lifted above a shapely ankle. But he had never seen their kind walking about so brazenly before. There were four of them, all twittering away merrily like a row of sparrows. Eli felt a stab of envy. They seemed so carefree.
The girl on the end of the row, nearest to the road, had on a blue silk bonnet studded with roses. The blue of the bonnet was pale against the blackness of her hair and when she tilted her chin towards one of her companions, Eli saw her skin was as creamy as the top of a rice pudding. For one dreadful moment, he imagined the girl might be Alice. Is this what she might have turned to, to survive out on the streets on her own? The girl in the blue bonnet laughed then, and Eli saw the blackened stumps of her teeth. He shuddered. Of course it wasn’t Alice. How could he even think such a thing?
The White Post was crowded, but Wraith managed to secure a table away from the main bar. He had been right about the rump steak. It was as soft as butter. And the wine was rich with spices. Eli let the woozy warmth of it run through him. Wraith started a conversation with a gentleman at the next table. They seemed to be trying to outdo one another with their knowledge of the delights of Bath. Eli didn’t mind. It let him off the hook.
He looked around the heaving hostelry and imagined himself to be in Paris, or Venice perhaps. He would be in the company of other young men his of age. There would be jollity and laughter and plenty of pretty girls to teach him the art of flirting. He poured himself another glass of wine.
By the time they left the White Post, to make their way back to the hotel, Eli was somewhat the worse for wear. The afternoon was teetering on the edge of dusk, but the streets seemed busier than ever. Eli concentrated on his feet, putting one boot in front of the other. It was not far to the hotel. He would make his excuses to Wraith and retire to his room straight away. If Wraith wanted to indulge in a nightcap, then he would have to do it on his own.
They cut through a small lane at the side of the Abbey and walked across the churchyard. Eli glanced up from the ground every now and then to check the way forward was clear. His head was starting to thicken and tighten around his temples and he could feel the chewed morsels of steak churning around in his stomach. He stopped for a moment to steady himself and to take a deep breath. Just up ahead, he noticed a large, distinctive-looking man bending down to talk to a girl in a dark cloak. It was the man’s hair, though, that drew his attention – long, jet-black ringlets that fell below his shoulders – and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a hat.
Wraith came to his side. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Eli impatiently. ‘I just needed to catch my breath.’ He looked back towards the man and Wraith followed his gaze.
‘Well, I never,’ said Wraith.
But Eli didn’t hear him. Because at that moment the man grabbed the girl by the elbow and her hood fell from her head. Eli swallowed hard. It couldn’t be. He blinked hard. The man was dragging the girl away now and Eli couldn’t see her face any more, just a loose knot of dark hair bouncing against the base of her neck.
He started to follow, quickening his pace as the two of them wove in and out of the crowds ahead. ‘Where are you going?’ shouted Wraith. ‘The hotel is this way.’
Eli started to run. He could see the man’s head, bare amid the sea of hats. He was turning left on the main street, Eli was sure of it. Keeping his eyes fixed on the man’s head, Eli stepped into the road.
‘Watch out!’ The words rang in his ears and he was wrenched backwards, away from the road, just as an omnibus rolled in front of him, the horses snorting and its wheels racing perilously.
‘What do you think you’re doing? You could have been killed!’
Eli turned to see Wraith standing there, his face red and indignant. Eli looked across the road, his eyes flitting backwards and forwards. But there was no sign of the man now, or the girl.
‘Did you not see the omnibus?’ asked Wraith.
Eli sighed. ‘No, I didn’t,’ he said. ‘But I thought I saw Alice. I could have sworn it was Alice.’
‘I think maybe you have had too many glasses,’ said Wraith. ‘You are seeing things.’
‘But it looked so much like her!’ Eli protested. He turned to Wraith. ‘Did you see the man in the churchyard just then? The tall one with the head of black ringlets?’
Wraith nodded. ‘Well, yes. I was just about to point him out to you, when you ran off.’
‘She was with him,’ said Eli. ‘The girl I saw was with him.’
Wraith narrowed his eyes. ‘In that case, Mr Angel, we will have to hope that it was not your dear sister you saw, because that man, if I’m not mistaken, was Henry Prince: a dangerous madman by any other name.’