Chapter 7: Ad Terra Incognita
A shrill whistle hit a sour note close to my head. At first I thought Ariana was attempting once again to wake me by playing my violin. "Put it down, soror," I muttered, reaching sluggishly for the blankets to pull over my head.
I found cloth, but it was strangely wet, and didn't feel at all quilted. But, God have mercy, I was far too tired to worry about a bit of water on my bed.
The same shrill note sounded again, and this time it was answered by a chorus of other noises of varying pitch.
Groaning, I forced my eyelids open. "Ariana, you –" I stopped. I was not in my bed. I was lying on top of a painfully hard tree stump on the southeast outer edge of the forest, in sight of the town. The sky was dimly lit, and the very dingy gray of early morning. Mist swirled around in many abstract shapes, touching the tips of the dewy grass, and a chorus of birds was singing gaily above my head.
Then, at the speed of the current of Hudson's Creek after a torrential downpour, the events of last night came flooding back, bringing a couple of stinging tears to my eyes.
I shakily pushed myself up to a sitting position, wiping my hands on my magnificently grass-stained skirt.
Then I realized that I probably looked like I'd been through hell. Not that that would have been at all inaccurate.
I leaned my head back, resting it on the solid tree trunk behind me. I stared up into the leafy canopy, watching as the green shapes rustled in the light breeze, chill drops of dew shaking themselves free and falling on my head.
I closed my eyes, a blissful memory from the past returning unbidden to the front of my mind.
Ariana poked her head down out of the tree, chestnut-brown locks falling into her face, and giggled. "Em, come on!"
The identical twin of the girl in the tree sat up against a log, arranging small acorns in neat rows. And for the multiplication problem of five times four, she would need five rows of four acorns each. She was too wrapped up in her arithmetic to answer.
Sighing, Ariana agilely dropped out of the tree, and stood with her hands on her hips. "Em!"
Emily looked dubiously over her shoulder at her exasperated sister. "I don't think it's safe, Ariana."
Ariana untangled a small twig from her hair and sighed once more. "Em, you can't count on staying safe your whole life! We'll grow up and get married and move away from Mother and Father. And besides," she shrugged, "it's fun. We won't get hurt as long as we don't fall, and we won't get into any trouble as long as we don't rip our skirts."
Emily stared into her sister's eyes, which pleaded for an adventurous companion, and stood up. "All right," she consented, and followed Ariana to the tree, where she jumped to grab a hold and pulled herself up onto the lowest branch, and continued to climb this way.
In a higher branch, Emily giddily looked down at the world below and sighed contentedly. It was actually a pleasurable experience for once to do what one wanted – and the risk was worth it.
I opened my eyes again. My sister had been the one who convinced me to change my way of thinking that day when we were seven years old. I hadn't regretted it ever since. And now Ariana was gone. I owed it to her to do everything in my power – no matter how risky – to ensure her safety, and that monster's downfall.
I undid the strap holding my bag closed, noticing the loaf of bread on top and realizing for the first time how hungry I was.
I broke off a small piece of the bread and began to eat. My mouth was dry, and I sorely wished I had some tea – or, at least, water – with which to wash down the bread, but I did not, so I gingerly moistened my lips with my tongue and took another bite, trying not to appear too voracious, even though my only company were the birds and chipmunks.
Having finished approximately half of the loaf, I returned it to my bag and fastened the strap once more, standing up and beginning to make my way into town.
Not many people were yet awake – which wasn't surprising, as the sun had not yet risen. A few young boys ran down the sidewalks, some with sticks, some with handfuls of stones. A man in a brown business suit sat on a bench by the train station reading a newspaper. As I stepped closer to him I could plainly see the headline. Death of Sir Ashford Strikes Terror in Many, I read, feeling my throat constrict for a moment. It was only natural in such a small town that a sensational story such as this would be published within twenty hours of its occurrence. I didn't recognize the man, and so prayed he wouldn't recognize me as the daughter of the murdered man. "Excuse me, sir," I said as politely as I could, "do you have the time?"
His eyes tore themselves reluctantly from the newspaper and fixed upon me. His eyebrows raised as he looked me up and down. Finally he pulled a golden pocket watch from inside his coat and glanced at it. "It's 6:43, miss," he said.
"Thank you," I replied with a nod, and began to walk briskly away. The hem of my dress caught my eye as I stepped over a small gap in the sidewalk. It was snagged and torn and wet and smeared with dirt. It occurred to me that I most likely looked the same all over. No wonder the man had looked at me so, he must have thought I'd wandered out of the forest after sleeping under a spell for twenty years, like Rip Van Winkle from the tale by Washington Irving.
God willing, I could find somewhere to clean up slightly. However, if it was nearly seven, I had no time. I must hasten to purchase my ticket for the 7:15 train and make sure that Moriarty could not catch up with me – of course. It was too easy, and yet, with luck, it would work.
Naturally Moriarty would notice this morning that I was missing. Of course he would assume that I'd gone into town and that I would have bought a ticket to London on the closest train – where else would I go? Moriarty would come into town and ask if anyone had seen me, and the ticket-seller would tell him I'd bought a ticket on the 7:15 passenger express into London. The Professor was a well-to-do man with much influential power, and he would no doubt engage a special – a private passenger train for the highest of society. My father being of the status he was, Thorndon had its own special, although I was sure it had never been used. Thus he would reach London well before I, and be able to head me off. Oh, if I could only do it! I might buy a ticket for that train, but I did not have to get on it. If only I could find some way to procure a ticket for the next express train to London without attracting attention.
But the first step was, of course, to purchase the decoy ticket.
I pushed as much hair as I could behind my ears – naturally my hairpins had all fallen out – and approached the ticket-seller's booth.
"Miss Emily!" he exclaimed in surprise, looking up as I came nearer. His eyes – just like those of the man in the suit – widened, taking in my appearance. "Wh-what happened to you?" he stuttered, gesturing at me.
"I had a rough night," I confessed. Not a lie. "And walked into town this morning," I added. Also not a lie.
He nodded, no doubt in response to the 'rough night' bit. "And no wonder, with your father – I was sorry to hear about that, by the way." His expression had suddenly turned from shock to sympathy.
"Thank you for the condolences," I replied earnestly. "I do, however, require a ticket for the 7:15 train."
The man's eyebrows shot skyward. "London?" he said rather loudly. Then, looking uncomfortable, he lowered his voice. "Why on earth do you need to go to London?" he asked.
"To see a relative," I told him. Not a lie.
"Is Ariana not going?"
"No, I'm afraid she's needed at home." That was a lie, and I felt strangely un-guilty for telling it. And, of course, the lack of guilt made me feel quite guilty indeed.
His eyes betrayed that he wasn't satisfied with this amount of information, but he evidently knew I wasn't going to say any more, for he silently handed me a ticket in exchange for some coins and wished me good luck and Godspeed on my journey.
Suddenly I heard a couple of the boys' voices calling out a greeting to someone entering the town. Oh, no. Inconceivable. He was early.
But as I listened, it was indeed him. I heard his voice, asking the boys if they'd seen me.
I ducked into a side alley and crouched behind a box that smelt strongly of pigs, breathing hard. As if on cue, I heard a blessing in the form of the final bell sounding from the platform. Escalating quickly in speed, the train pulled out of the station, leaving Thorndon behind it.
I faintly heard Moriarty begin a to-the-point interrogation of the ticket-seller, who immediately revealed that I'd bought a ticket on the 7:15 train to London, which had, unfortunately, just left.
Moriarty cursed angrily and began negotiating the price to engage a special.
I saw a young boy, whose name I believed was Steven, walk in front of my hiding spot and saw my chance. Pulling him behind the crate to kneel beside me, I indicated for him not to speak loudly.
"What 'appened to yew?" he whispered.
"It's too complicated and not necessary to explain," I told him. Handing him enough coins to pay for another train ticket, I said, "Take these and buy me a ticket on the next passenger express to London, all right? Say your father asked you to buy it. Bring it straight back to me and don't say anything to that tall man over there and I can promise you an extra sovereign."
The child's face brightened at the prospect of an entire sovereign of his very own, and he eagerly nodded and skipped off to fulfill the task he'd been given.
Not long after, but before the boy returned, I heard the sound of another train leaving the station at an even higher speed. I had every part of my instincts telling me this was Moriarty's special.
Even in the urgency of my situation, I felt my heart leap. It had worked. All I had left to do was make it onto the next train without the ticket-seller noticing. Moriarty had fallen for the decoy. He was following the red herring all the way to London, and it would be hours before he realized the truth.
Just then Steven returned, breaking me out of my thoughts. He handed over my ticket, and I in turn handed him the promised sovereign, and he ran off to spend his new treasure.
I glanced at the ticket. Departure 8:30 AM 14th August, 1887. Passenger express to Paddington Station. I did not have a clue where Paddington Station was located, nor did I have any idea how close it was to my final destination – Baker Street.
Eight-thirty. If I was correct, I had just over an hour before my train left. Fortunately, this gave me time to freshen up. As I headed towards the inn on the main road, I thanked the Almighty Lord that I'd thought to bring extra clothing.
One hour later, I stood on the platform of Thorndon train station, wearing the silk and lace lined gown I had carefully folded inside my satchel, with my hair pinned up under a wide-brimmed hat graciously given to me by the proprietor's wife. I was by no means clean, for there had not been nearly enough time for that, but I was significantly neater in appearance, and one might not have even linked me to the muddy, torn, bedraggled girl who had walked wearily into town earlier that morning.
The last whistle sounded sharply. The conductor gave the final warning to board. Steam poured thickly into the air, dispensing rapidly as it fueled my route to London.
By now Moriarty would have realized that I was nowhere to be found in the Great Metropolis. Not long ago he would have left to come back here. And by the time he actually arrived I would be a mere 25 miles from London.
As all this passed through my head, I stepped forward and climbed aboard the train. It wasn't very crowded; there were only a scant few men in suits. Two of them appeared to be accompanied by women, who were in all probability their wives.
My primary point being that it wasn't at all hard to find a compartment for myself, and as I locked the door and dropped my bag onto the seat, the train began to pull away from the platform, gathering speed with every second. I sat down gingerly by the window and watched everything I'd ever known slip away. I forced myself to swallow the fear I felt as I realized I had no idea what lay ahead.
