“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Small spaces made me feel hidden. No one could see me. No one could touch me. It was dark and safe in the cupboard. It smelled like soap.”
“A kitchen cupboard, then?”
“Yes.”
“All right,” Hazel said, settling in and being very attentive. “I want to hear everything you remember from those two days, the day you were bit by the dog and the day your mother left the apartment and was killed by a carriage.”
Hazel stood on the small front porch of Lavender House on Monday afternoon and swallowed, gripping the handles of her crutches in her sweaty hands.
“Are you certain about this, ma’am?” Corinne asked.
Hazel shook her head. “Not in the least.”
She moved the crutches ahead six inches to the edge of the front step, planted them securely, and then swung herself forward, lifting her right foot enough that it would not drag while bringing her left foot even with the crutches.
Using the crutches around the house had become a daily convenience since her fall, even if only for an hour or two, and she’d become quite good at managing them indoors. She had been practicing stairs in anticipation of this expedition, but she’d never used her crutches outside of the house. Never let anyone but Duncan and the servants see her. Duncan had nothing but praise for her progress with the crutches and regularly encouraged her to use them to explore the city, but she had declined. She didn’t wish to be a spectacle.
The Burrow Building, however, was seven blocks away, even further than the church, and she had to get there and back, which was a daunting journey. Delores’s unwillingness to come to her all these months, combined with what Hazel had learned from Duncan’s recounting of the day his mother died, had formulated an important enough question to necessitate this expedition. And although there were a dozen reasons why the answer was none of Hazel’s business, she wanted to know. Then she could decide if Duncan should know.
Hazel looked at the stairs and swallowed her growing anxiety. “If you will put your hand on my back while I take the stairs, Corinne, just so I know that you’re there if I lose my balance.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
The warmth of Corinne’s broad hand in the center of Hazel’s shoulders lent enough confidence for Hazel to carefully navigate her way down all four steps. Once on the cobbled walkway, she focused on the ground ahead of her instead of whether or not anyone was watching.
“Please walk ahead of me, Corinne. It will clear a path, and I can watch you instead of having to navigate.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hazel focused on the back of Corinne’s skirt and did not look at anyone they passed on the street. She was careful to keep her back as straight as possible and tightened her stomach muscles to help ensure her balance. When they passed the church, she celebrated the accomplishment in her mind. Only two blocks to go.
“There it is,” Corinne said after what felt like miles. “We just need to cross the road.”
Hazel’s shoulders and hands were aching, and she tried to hide her heavy breathing as she looked up from the street. There were people on both sides of the road and two carriages moving down the middle, the wheels carving divots in piles of horse manure. A man on horseback caught her eye, then looked away as though he hadn’t seen her. She took a breath and used her left foot to stand up straighter as she assessed the best place to cross.
“How about there?” she said to Corinne, leaning on her left crutch so she could point with the right.
Corinne nodded and moved that direction.
Hazel took careful steps so as to avoid the worst of the mess in the street.
A carriage stopped, allowing them to pass, the horses huffing and snorting only a few feet away. She imagined the driver was impatient with her slow progress but did not risk a glance to confirm it. Once on the other side of the road, she grinned at Corinne triumphantly. For the next section of the journey, she divided her attention between the cobbles in front of her and the building Duncan owned.
The Burrow Building was long and made of butter-colored stone, which made it stand out against the gray color of the other edifices. There were timber-framed shop fronts along the street level. The shuttered windows on the level above must belong to the apartments such as the one Duncan had lived in. The building was in good condition, the woodwork sound, the paint in good repair, and the sidewalk in front freshly swept.
She felt a sense of pride that the property was so respectable and wished she could pass on the compliment to Duncan. Doing so would require her explaining how she’d come to see the building in the first place, however.
I am an independent woman and can do as I like, she told herself, but she still felt guilty for seeking information about his past without his knowledge.
“Here is the pub, ma’am.”
Hazel looked at the sign hung perpendicular to the building from an ornate metal hanger. “Ye Old Pub” was carved into the wood above the timber-framed entrance, the carved letters painted dark-green. A blue fish was also carved below the title, which Hazel found humorous since Duncan sometimes brought fish home from the pub for Elizabeth. The sign above the door just west of the pub said “Penhale Accounting.”
“Would you hold the door open for me, Corinne?” Hazel asked, casting a wary glance toward Duncan’s office. He was such a determined creature of habit that she did not fear he would leave the office before 1:30 and catch her here, but she felt bad for not stopping in and seeing him too. Though, if she did, he would have questions for her that she was not prepared to answer.
“Ma’am?” Corinne prompted, and Hazel nodded her thanks as she swung through the open doorway, pausing to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light of the interior.
The pub smelled like stale grease and sharp whiskey. It took a great deal of effort not to wrinkle her nose as she took in the rest of the room and the occupants—four men seated at a table, all of whom were looking at her. She nodded at the men in greeting and then swung her crutches toward a table against the wall nearest the window. The pub was small and felt very cramped.
She moved smoothly into the bench while Corinne sat at a different table. Hazel tried to make herself comfortable but worried she could never be comfortable in a place like this. At the same time, she felt a whirring sense of triumph. She was twenty-nine years old and had never been inside a pub before. She’d also had to walk several blocks to get here, on crutches no less. It felt like quite an accomplishment for Hazel Stillman Penhale.
“What are you doin’ here?”
Hazel looked up to see Delores staring down at her, hands on her hips. “I wanted to talk with you, and you have either refused or ignored my invitations. I had no choice but to come.”