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Eleven.
Last Room to Your Right


The body has a funny way of guiding itself after years of practice and routine, even when the mind is too preoccupied to manage it. Ellie didn't register that she was heading towards the marketplace until she reached it. It wasn't until she stood at the end of that block of the marketplace, already teeming with sellers and buyers, when Ellie realized she had no idea where to go. She left the Richardson's home without a plan, her only focus on getting out of the house. Though she now treaded through the familiar marketplace, she couldn't help but feel lost without a reason to be there, without a place to return to.

It didn't help that Ellie was unfamiliar with any place outside of Queens. Her possible options included Brooklyn to the south of Queens, Manhattan to the west, Bronx to the north. Indecisively, she ventured back and forth between those choices, knocking at her temple as if to shake out an arbitrary answer. Bronx was the first to be crossed off, simply because she couldn't recall ever stepping foot in the borough. Despite the protests of her exhausted body, walking to Brooklyn was not impossible. However, Ellie felt more confident about being able to find her way in Manhattan, though that really wasn't saying much. She could probably count the number of times she visited the island on one hand. But it was better than getting hopelessly lost in Brooklyn, right?

Manhattan it was, then, she decided. She thought to look for the lodging place Anne had talked about, though Ellie's memory of its location was fuzzy at best. Anne had stayed at a Girl's Home in Manhattan before finding work with the Richardsons, and she had occasionally shared stories of her life before crossing the East River and stepping into Number Nine Ivy Street. As she had solemnly described, Anne had held numerous jobs throughout her years to be able to pay for food and a bed at night. It was a life Ellie could hardly imagine for herself having had both since she could remember—though she had come precariously close to losing those privileges when she made a mess of things on many an occasion.

Ellie headed for the ferry dock by the East River, which was almost in the same direction from whence she came just an hour before. Apprehension bubbled inside as she drew closer to the docks, knowing that she had last seen Blade only several blocks away. Ellie took a steadying breath to relieve her worries; I have the sun by my side. They wouldn't dare come for me in broad daylight, Ellie noted, trying to reassure herself. She stood a little straighter. There are a crowd of people here, then all I'd have to do is yell for help and someone will have to hear me and—

"What's that, miss?"

Ellie yelped, whirling about in surprise. "Yes?" she let out dumbly, facing a gruff-looking man standing behind her.

He gave her a suspicious glance. "You all right?"

She blinked. Belatedly, she realized that her panicked state had her thinking out loud.

Evidently, he thought her insane. He shook his head and clucked his tongue, as if it were a darn shame for someone to have gone mad at such a young age.

Men and women gathered in large throngs along the docks, preparing themselves for another long day of labor. After waiting in line, buying her ticket, and squeezing through the masses, Ellie found herself painfully crammed amongst the boarders on the overcrowded ferry. There was barely enough room to expand her lungs. Several passengers, crabby from lack of sleep perhaps, sent her contemptuous glances when Ellie tried to maneuver out of her crammed spot. Ellie bit her lip and kept her eyes on the floor. Thankfully, the dreadful ride was brief for the ferry soon made berth on the other side of the river. Ellie landed on the island of Manhattan. She was swept out with the torrent of passengers as everyone hurriedly dispersed to their destinations. When the crowd dissipated, Ellie was left standing idly, wondering where to move next.

She knew what she was looking for, at least. After a round of aimless circling about the streets and sidewalks, Ellie found herself heading downtown. All the while, she searched through her memory, trying to grasp at one particular conversation she had with Anne several months ago, when her friend mentioned the streets and described the shops around the Girl's Home.

She must have been walking for close to two hours. Ellie clutched her valise tightly in both hands as she bumped shoulders with countless people, struggling to make her way through the congested city streets. Heading down First Avenue, she worried that she was a strange sight to passerbys as she constantly craned her neck this way and that, trying to look out for lodgings.

She suddenly remembered the dark stories about Lower Manhattan—stories of gang wars and fierce battles many years ago—stories she had overheard Mr. Richardson and his guests discuss; that certainly wasn't the memory she'd been searching for. It was when she considered turning around and heading down another street when she spotted it: a small, humble sign on the corner building to her left, which simply read: "Girl's Lodging Home."

The sun, the crowd, and now luck, seemed to be on her side this morning.

Ellie tiptoed up the steps, composed herself, gripped the knob, and pushed the door open.

She walked timidly into what she presumed was the lobby and waiting room. There was seating against the wall, and on the walls hung a few charming idyllic paintings. The only light poured in through the open windows, the linen curtains floating in gently with the warm summer breeze. Ellie had been so preoccupied with studying her surroundings that she didn't take notice of the small woman sitting behind the counter.

"May I help you, Miss?"

Ellie jumped at the voice, her head snapping towards the elderly woman. She let out the surprised breath that had gathered in her throat. And then she laughed, an unnecessarily loud and awkward laugh that suggested her nervous state and how silly she felt for being so jumpy.

"Yes, please," Ellie said tentatively. "I… I need a place to stay for the night. Or two," she said choppily, unsure of how to proceed when the woman took to studying her.

The woman eyed her astutely. She didn't seem the type of person who missed much, with steely blue eyes, fine graying hair tucked precisely into a bun, and an immaculate, crisp buttoned white shirt. She nodded and mm-hmm'd slowly. "I trust you're not a runaway," she said finally.

Ellie froze. What would happen if she answered yes? Would the woman take her by the collar and kick her out? Because, circumstances aside, she had run away from her employers.

"No," she heard herself say. Then again, she didn't run away—if one considered Francesca her employer, that is, and Francesca was very much aware of Ellie's departure.

"Well, dear," the woman began, "you're in luck. We just got an opening this morning. Lodging is six cents a night, dear, and meals come out at four cents. I suppose you don't have a job just yet, though, am I right?"

Either Ellie was not a unique case or this woman read people like a book. "No, I don't have one yet," said Ellie, her eyes downcast.

"Then I have a couple of addresses you could try. Some places are always in need of extra hands."

Ellie looked at the woman with surprised gratitude. "I'd appreciate that, thank you."

"Of course, dear."

"If I could just set down my things I could go look for one right away," she said earnestly.

The woman frowned at her. "Don't be ridiculous," she scolded. "You're not going anywhere in that state. Why, you look like you haven't slept in days. Tomorrow," she said, "I'll give you the addresses tomorrow. Now, I need you to fill out your name here," she said, pushing a large ledger towards Ellie.

Ellie stared down at the book, absently accepting the pen the woman had handed her. Her eyes flitted over all the names scratched into the pages. There were so many names before the blank line which would occupy hers.

She signed her full name and her age. The woman took back the ledger and, after reading her signature, said, "Ellie Summers, is it? You have beautiful penmanship."

Ellie gave a small smile of thanks, flashing back on her youth when she learned how to write by Francesca's side, under the careful and shrewd watch of Ms. Hutchins, young Francesca's governess.

After Ellie paid the lodging fare, the woman directed her to the stairs. "All right, then. Dinner's at seven. Curfew is nine-thirty sharp. If you have any other questions, you can come ask me. Those are the stairs to your left. You'll be on the second floor, the last room to your right. Can't miss it—there's only two rooms. You best wash up and get some rest for today."

Ellie gave an appreciative smile. "Thank you, Ms…"

"Ms. Cameron, dear."

"Ms. Cameron. Thank you."

Ellie took to the stairs, taking her time so as to absorb her new surroundings. The rickety wooden steps groaned with every step she took. There was no telling how long she would be here—a day? A week? Perhaps even years. The uncertainty that clouded her life unnerved her. It was an unfamiliar feeling, not knowing what the next day would bring. She had never had to stop and think about tomorrow before, because tomorrow was always the same as today, and yesterday, and the day before that.

As she reached the top step, the front door below flew open with a twitter and a clang. The noise broke the silence of the lodging house so abruptly that it made Ellie jump, her head snapping towards the door. Ellie gaped upon setting eyes on the newcomer bustling into the lobby.

She was the most beautiful woman Ellie had ever seen. She was possibly in her mid to late twenties, with voluminous copper-brown curls, deep-set blue eyes over defined cheekbones, and delicately painted lips, wearing a dusky violet silk dress trimmed with elaborate ruffles, elbow-length sleeves, and a full skirt. The gown was nothing like Ellie had ever seen and when she heard the woman speak, she determined it was a foreign fashion.

"Oh dear, it's hot as a firebrick oven out there, isn't it?" the woman said. She gave Ms. Cameron a look of admiration. "Ms. Cameron, you're as lovely as ever." Her bright smile was full of charm. A trace of an airy accent to her voice suggested an English background.

"Miss Addleton!" Ms. Cameron exclaimed in delight, rounding the table to greet her guest. She took Miss Addleton's hands and clasped them tightly in her own. "It's so wonderful to see you again. How was your trip?"

"It all went very nicely. But enough about me, Ms. Cameron, how have you been? How are the girls?"

"Just fine, we've all been just fine. Please, please sit down, Miss Addleton," Ms. Cameron fussed, directing her towards the chairs. "Would you like some tea?"

"You're too kind, but I'm afraid I must—" The woman paused for a moment as her cerulean eyes caught Ellie still staring from the top of the stairs.

Ellie blinked and directed her attention to her own boots, embarrassed.

"—run. I, well, I just had to stop by to give you this," Miss Addleton explained, handing Ms. Cameron an unmarked white envelope.

Ms. Cameron's hand fluttered to her heart as she gingerly took the envelope with the other. Her eyes were glimmering with touched emotions. "Miss Addleton, you've already donated so much. I don't know what to say," she whispered.

"Say you'll put it to good use," Addleton said with a tender smile.

"Thank you. Thank you. Bless you, Miss Addleton, for your kindness. I don't know where we would be if it weren't for all your help."

"Ms. Cameron, please, no more tears," she said lightly, pulling out a white handkerchief from her purse and handing it to the elderly woman whose tears now freely slid down her cheeks. "Now I really must go. You remember our promise, don't you?"

"Yes," said Ms. Cameron. She hesitated before going on. "But I still don't understand why you don't want anyone to know about your charitable donations. I want everyone to know about your patronage! You must at least allow me to tell the girls here about you so they know who to thank for the new sheets and books and—"

"Oh, you are much too sweet, Ms. Cameron, and I'm touched that you feel that way. But a promise is a promise, and I trust you will keep to your word," she said firmly.

"Yes, of course…"

Addleton beamed with satisfaction. "It was so good to see you again." They exchanged congenial goodbyes—with Ms. Cameron, in her gratitude, asking Addleton more than once to at least stay for tea—and the beautiful Miss Addleton turned to leave. Before exiting, however, she looked up at Ellie once more, and this time, Ellie met her gaze. Miss Addleton gave her another brilliant smile, her eyes twinkling mysteriously; it was as if she knew something Ellie didn't.

It was when Miss Addleton left when Ellie finally managed to budge from her spot on the staircase. She moved down the short hallway and stepped into the last room to the right. It was a modest space, not unlike her own room in the Richardson's servants' quarters. Old room, she corrected. It was odd having to refer to that room in the past tense.

There were three identical bunk beds—two against the wall to the left, one to the right with an unadorned writing desk next to it. The beds were all neatly made. She crossed the room to the bottom bunk by the window, set down her valise and sat on the bed, the springs creaking loudly under her weight. She took a moment to take in the situation, staring out the window. It wasn't much of a view, looking out to an alleyway, with only the fire escape and the bricks and mortar of the building next door visible.

What had gone wrong? In one night, her relatively steady life stumbled off the road onto some unknown route. There was a part of Ellie that believed everything was going to turn out all right—after all, Ellie had gotten into trouble more than once with the Richardsons and every time, after a period of tension, things eventually settled back into normality.

But this episode was unlike anything Ellie had ever gotten herself into. She glanced at her valise and then to her still tender arm. Thinking back on the happenings of the night before, Ellie was surprised she managed to not faint from utter fear. She felt the anxiety rushing back now and all she wanted to do was hide under the covers.

Maybe she could sleep away the fears. Ellie got up and went to the washroom located on the opposite side of the hallway, splashed her face with some cold water, tinkered with the makeshift bandage, and headed back to the bunk. Removing her boots, she delicately lied down on the bed, making sure to avoid leaning on her right arm.

Her body welcomed the rest, but her mind continued to whir. If it weren't for Francesca, Ellie wouldn't be lying in this unfamiliar bed nursing an injury. She wouldn't be out of a job and torn apart from her friends. She wouldn't have ever crossed paths with Blade.

Ellie sighed, closing her eyes. But that wasn't fair. After all, it was Ellie who decided to follow Francesca. She was the one who barged into the situation like a madwoman. She was the one who laughed off the thought of taking that skillet with her. Resignedly, she wondered why she couldn't recognize a stupid thing to do before doing it.

Ellie almost regretted trailing Francesca. She only took solace in the fact that the proud Richardson girl emerged unscathed. With closed eyes and a weary shake of the head, Ellie couldn't help but play the night's events over again in her mind. Even with the bandaged arm as evidence, she couldn't believe all that had transpired just a couple of hours before.

She wondered how Francesca was holding up.


By the long shadows outside, the sun was low on the horizon and setting rapidly. Shades of sunset orange streamed into the alley. Summer days being long, Ellie figured it was about seven in the evening. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she must have slept for a while before the sounds of excited chatter and footsteps bursting into the room woke her.

"And then he gave me this flower, see? He said it was so pretty it reminded him of me," sounded a girl's voice.

Envious sighs filled the room.

"But, Brenda, I thought you had your eyes on Jack Kelly."

Brenda scoffed. "He's been such a bore lately. I just can't believe he ignored me at dinner to talk to his buddies."

"There is the strike to think about," one girl tried to justify.

"But they could talk about that at their lodging house! Anyway, this should show him," she said, holding up the flower.

"Show him what?"

"That he better pay attention to me or else some other boy is going to sweep me off my feet."

Ellie slowly lifted herself upright. Her movement caught the girls' attention. She lifted her eyes and saw them: three girls standing by the bunk bed near the doorway, all of them watching her curiously. Brenda—Ellie assumed, from the way she was holding onto a small yellow flower—was a slender girl with hazel eyes and a pretty face, half of her blond hair swept up high on her head. She raised a brow in Ellie's direction.

Ellie put on a polite smile. "Hi," she managed, trying to break the awkward silence.

The girl to Brenda's right—whose name, Leslie, Ellie would learn later—was staring back at Ellie with narrowed brown eyes. The third girl, Miranda, simply turned her nose in the air.

"Hi," the girls replied airily, uninterested, before eagerly resuming their conversation.

Ellie drew a deep breath. This was going to take some getting used to.


Author's Note: Who is Miss Addleton? We'll find out soon enough.

I didn't expect to be stuck on this chapter for so long, but I guess that's just how that sneaky writer's block works. I'm excited to write the next chapter, though—already made some headway on it—so hopefully it will be coming soon!

Thanks go out to chaoticmom (I promise we'll learn who Francesca was with that night!), Adren, and Song For A Rainy Day for your kind reviews! I really appreciate everyone that is sticking with this story. :)