Page 38 of An Artful Dodge
“Amelia didn’t ask anyone. Maggie Wirth—Patty’s daughter—came back from Australia and askedher.”
As we walked, I explained all that had happened. At the end of my recital, she shook her head as if stunned.
“I never dreamed Amelia would leave,” she said. “Where will she go? Do you think we’ll see her again?”
“She said Whitechapel, and we can visit it, surely, but ... well, you know how it is.”
“People leave, and they don’t come back,” she said, her voice flat with certainty. “But Amelia’s been good to us since Ma died.”
“I know.”
A gust of wind on the bridge drove the chill of the river into our bones and kept us from speaking again until we crossed. By the time we reached the other side, Sarah’s shoulders drooped, and her mouth was pursed in a way I knew.
I laid a hand on her arm to draw her to a stop. “What’s the matter?”
She turned toward me, her expression sober and resolute. “I don’t want to quarrel, but you must stop thieving, Kit. Six months is long enough to die in prison.”
I had no answer to that.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you know why I wanted to go out in service?”
“To help,” I said.
“So we’d have enough money that you could do something different, something away from Elephant and Castle.”
“I’ve been thieving for years,” I said slowly. “Why is this bothering you now?”
“Because I’m finally old enough to know how dangerous it is! And now that Amelia’s gone?Please, Kit.” Her eyes begged. In the wind coming off the river, fine strands of her fair hair escaped her pinned braid and blew about her face. “Those murders just made death seem so ... close and so possible.” Her face was pinched. “I am more afraid of you dying than ofanythinghappening to me. Do you think I don’t worry every day, knowing what you’re doing at the shops, knowing you could be caught? Even hanged outright?”
“I told you, I’ll quit when I can.” My voice cracked over the words.
“I want you tofinda way to quit, Kit.”
“I will try. Truly, I will.” I swallowed. “But you’d be all right. You’re in service, you—”
Her jaw dropped and her eyes filled with tears, as if I’d slapped her. “How can you say that? You think just because I’ve gone into service that I don’tneedyou?”
I didn’t reply, for she’d laid her finger on the crack that her leaving had cut in my heart, though I’d done my best to pretend otherwise. Ididfear it.
“Kit,” she said, her voice breaking. She clutched both my hands in hers, her face earnest. “If anything, I know better how much I need you. It’sdifferentthan when I was a child and couldn’t fend for myself. But it’s not less, Kit.Neverless.”
Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I blinked them back.
“I know I still have things to learn,” Sarah said. “But ...”
“You’re not a child and you’re not a fool,” I finished. “I know. And I will try to find a way to stop. I promise.”
It took a moment, but her expression eased. “Well, at least you’ve acknowledged I’m not a child.”
“But youwereone for fourteen years,” I reminded her. “You’ve only been in service a few months. I need time to catch up.”
Her laugh, brief and teary as it was, showed her dimples.
My sister was never one to drag a quarrel beyond its natural end. She’d said her piece, and I’d said mine, so she slid her hand around my elbow, and we talked of other things the rest of the way home.
When Sarah and I arrived upstairs, I found two items on my bed: a note from Mary saying she was visiting relations for a few days, so Sarah could use her bed, and a prettily wrapped box tied with a white satin ribbon.
Mary and I didn’t usually buy each other presents.
