Chapter 2

The journey left every bump in the road known to the two travellers as they rode down from York to start their next step in London. Childermass could see that Norrell was mixed with the want to show the Minister of War his capabilities as a magician, but the reluctance in his eyes did not go unnoticed. The pair had spoken several times in the last few hours about it, sometimes covering similar ground. After some time, Childermass grew weary of Norrell's statements as the aching need in his legs to walk and the pang for food mixed to dampen his otherwise middling mood. His eyes drifted closed as he was also tired from the journey thus far and with the knowledge they would be stopping at an Inn in the next few hours, he decided to try and gain some sleep despite the bumps and shudders of the road.

Strangely, sleep snatched him easier than he believed, within ten minutes of closing his eyes he had fallen into a light but useful sleep and his mind took himself to his days as a somewhat younger man.

"Come all ye lads and lasses,

Pray attend unto my song

I hope you will not find it short,

Or yet so very long

Tis of the rigs and fancy prigs,

You'll meet with I declare

If you but spend an hour or two

At Nottingham Goose Fair."

Childermass saw the Sampson fish market in his dream's eye, he could even catch the strong stench of the morning catches in the mists of his memory. Yet along with the smell of fish came those hearty notes. He'd been with Mr Norrell for a few years, learning some important magic as he went. Yet his restlessness and days as a thief still took to him occasionally as he lingered around old haunts. She stood there along with two other women on similar stalls nearby, her hands busy with the industry of her employment. Her back was to him, her hair like a twist of jet plaited and hanging down her back. It shone in the moments that she passed in the sun's way and contrasted completely with the brown, worn gown and gut soiled apron that she wore. As he has passed one gentlemen and was near the stall he gave in to a passingurge and easily fingered a coin or two from the man's pocket. Glancing up however, he saw that the song had stopped and the reason being that those deep, shrewd eyes were watching him. Her singing can only have lapsed for a mere few seconds as she watched him, yet what was it that those eyes spoke of? Disapproval? Was she impressed? He could not tell, but in his dream and at the time of it happening he had remembered being pleased to see her again for it had been some time.

"Let's haste away, make no delay

To Nottingham we'll repair

And if you have an hour or two

Then spend it at the fair."

He stalked to the man again and with swift dexterity, returned the coins he had pilfered. As he looked up again he found to his somewhat disappointment that she was no longer looking at him, her back once again turned from his gaze. As with the fleeting moment he shared with her, like the song she had just sang, she moved on to another look and another melody.

"My candle burns at both ends,

It will not last the night.

But ah my foes

And oh my friends,

It gives a lovely light."

The other ladies joined her with this one, it was a hearty sound and festive in the winter chill. Childermass moved on through the crowd, determined to return back to his books at Norrell's residence. His dream reminded him of the resentment he felt as he stalked through like a shadow. It took only a second in the dream, yet how long had it been in reality, some minutes? The sense of not being alone was with him as he reached the outskirts of the market and growing tired of it he turned rapidly on his heel , ready to be on the defensive. Her pupils grew larger, just a fraction from surprise, or was it the scowl on his face? Rosie never did tell him, but though he did his best fierce look and emitted a kind of growl with the means to speak, she was unperturbed.

"I see so little of you around here these days." She remarked. "Were it not for your familiar ways I would doubt it was you."

Rosie greeted him like they were old, old acquaintances and in some ways they were for their encounters around the city had been numerous at one time or another, even if just mere glances in the street. She had the fresh faced look of a young woman around twenty, yet the understanding in her eyes was always so much older. Did she carry a spirit of a much older being and was merely the host? The soul they said was always in the eyes.

"No, I've other things to take up my time." He replied, his voice almost sounding lazy.

"Ah." She noted his tone and started to turn away. "I'll take up no more of it."

Rosie has taken a few steps away from him but then had stopped and seemed to hesitate. The sight had been strangely pleasant to him and though with no fixed words he wanted to say, he moved over to her. There was an unspoken presence between them, the elephant in the room that they had not spoken of. Nearing her, she had looked up into his face though not fully turning and it was one of the few times he witnessed her less confident, her emotions settled more obviously on the surface.

"How did you end up here?" He asked.

"It turns out that I can gut fish quicker than the last lass." She remarked, a more serene expression falling upon her face, it made her look quite lovely. "I have always had a skill with my hands, I'm told. It appears I am not the only one."

"I put it back." He had replied, not out of justification but merely for something to say, he always said his piece to Norrell but just now he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say, only that he wanted to speak with her.

"Sometimes we all keep our hand in when we need to."

This remark he presumed referred to the time before last when he had seen her with a man in tow out of necessity. Gutting fish was a step in the right direction away from such things.

"Where are you finding yourself now?" She asked.

"I work out at Hurtfew Abbey, a… servant to Mr Norrell."

"I know Mr Norrell by sight I think, he is a regular visitor in book shops."

"Find yourself in many?" Childermass asked, sensing that her eyes were those of a reader.

"When I can. You?"

"When I can."

"Last time I saw you…" She began. "You were shuffling some cards idly in your hands, they seemed very precious to you… what were they?"

"The cards of Marseilles, I drew my own from a deck I borrowed from a sailor once."

Across the air came the sound of Rosie's name being called from behind her, it was a gruff man's voice. Her disappearance had been noticed. Surprisingly, Rosie did not seem perturbed by the notes of displeasure within the call, in fact there was almost a roll of the eyes. Childermass found himself laughing a little.

"And what do you do with them?" She continued, not discouraged by the call.

"I read people's futures."

The carriage shook over a patch of uneven ground and Childermass was shaken awake. He became immediately disgruntled at being disturbed from the reverie and glancing outside he saw only grey skies and mist over the land they drove through. It was uninspiring and dull, helping little with his mood.

"What did you borrow from a sailor, Childermass?" Norrell asked. "You spoke of it whilst you slept."

"My cards, sir."

Norrell gave a sigh, it was a sigh that implied those things and was a sigh of disapproval. Childermass didn't care for his master's displeasure at his possession of such a deck. Instead he folded his arms and continued to watch the overcast world go by, though his mind still recalled the memory of that day in Sampson market.

"That must take some talent." She had observed with a smile. "Are you a charlatan or a magician?"

"I'd have to read for you, you'd make up your mind from that."

Here she had shook her head, though she still smiled and he noticed unlike a lot of women around here, her teeth were still good and clean, not yellowy and rotten. The smile bloomed her face into something truly striking to him and though he had at least a decade over her in years, he felt the almost unsteadiness of youth.

"I need to get back." She said quickly, suddenly conscious of time and again she set off only to turn back. "I do some serving at the Bull Inn now, we've both put our old ways behind us."

Childermass had watched her weave through the crowd until she went out of sight, only when she was gone from view did he turn his back on the scent of fish and flee to the cleaner air of Hurtfew. From then on he had found himself obliged to try the Bull Inn from time to time, sometimes seeing her there and other times not. Yet he had found it a welcome place to gain privacy when he happened to be in the city on Norrell's business.

To this day she had never let him read for her, her future seemed to show her as little interest as he felt towards his own. Travelling with Norrell as he did now was to further English Magic, for that is where his loyalty lay, not with his master. Still, he was furnished with enough sense to see that assisting Norrell was currently assisting English Magic.

When the decision had been made that following morning after the events at York Minster to move to London and offer Norrell's services to the war, Childermass kept to his word. Two days since having last seen her, he had waited for her in the early hours of the morning, knowing she would be finished at the Bull Inn. Making himself a shadow, he had allowed himself to accompany her some of the way unnoticed, she was tired and her skin was glistening from heated work in the Inn though now the early morning frost nipped at her cheeks making them glow.

Allowing himself to be seen at last, he walked a few steps behind her and she stopped dead where she stood. Turning and giving him a look of disapproval in the low lamplight of the street she jibed.

"How long have you been there?"

"A while."

"I suppose there were only two jobs available to you when you gave up thieving, a shadow or an undertaker." Her voice sounded sarcastic, but when he approached her and seized hold of her waist, demanding her gaze, her expression ripened humourously.

"That's a very cutting remark."

"Not to you it's not." She laughed lightly; she seemed pleased with the warmth his body offered as she only had a shawl over her grey dress.

Taking his glove off he touched the rosy cheek and felt the chilled skin there.

"We should get you inside." He observed, he had noticed she was thinner lately, he couldn't do with her sickening. Taking out a coin from his pocket, not even caring to look which it was he continued. "Get yourself something warmer for these walks home."

"I do earn money you know." She replied, pressing her index finger to his chest as though offended. "And as to getting me inside, Mrs Drake won't have you in."

"I've seen to the inside bit already."

Rosie's eyes widened a little bit in surprise.

"Aye that's right." He leant nearer to her ear and said hotly. "I earn money to."

If the sound of his voice made her shiver, Childermass couldn't tell due to the cold, but he remained there a moment, enjoying how his close proximity might be making her feel. After all, he was keeping a promise from the last time they met. He took her to another Inn some streets away, their room accessed without any difficulty and once inside he took hold of her to both kiss and warm her up. But Rosie stopped him.

Looking around she saw the simple, yet neat arrangement of the room and smiled to herself before looking back to him.

"Something respectable has come from this money you earn."

She kissed him quickly then, teasingly and his hands snaked around her body, melding them together.

"That depends on how you judge respectable."

"That is true." She nodded, then pressed a single kiss to his jaw line just short of his ear. "But something tells me you have something to say first."

Childermass realised she was right, reluctant due to the close proximity of their bodies and his need for her to discuss it. But he needed to impart the London plans to her first, so they sat down by the fire to warm themselves up and he explained as much as he was able. Rosie listened patiently, her expression unchanged. When he was finished and she understood the duration would be a long one, potentially permanent she moved forward and seated herself astride his lap and began to kiss him.

But as he had watched her, Childermass had realised one other important thing, he could not do without her. Though her kisses were stirring the animal again it was the mere sight of her but moments earlier, listening intently, those large, green eyes focused on him that did it. His hands came up and loosened hers from the material of his coat that she held and he said rather bluntly, almost impatiently.

"I want you to come."

At first she looked at him, her eyes narrowed before growing large again. Was she testing his resolve or waiting for him to laugh it off as a joke? His face was never more serious.

"I don't see how that would be possible." She answered. "Your matters… they are too great."

This wasn't false modesty or lack of confidence that made her speak so, if he left tomorrow without her somehow she would continue her life's course un-derailed. In that way she was rather like him.

"I want you to come, the question is will you."

"London will be just this?"

"Yes." He replied. "There was always one thing I believed mattered above all things these last eighteen years and that still stands but… that is the greater thing for England. This is something I care to own for myself."

"London might swallow me up." She laughed.

"It will be as it is now." He explained, his voice sounding serious with a tinge of a promise. "Will you come?"

"How is it to be done?"

"Will you come?" He said again, almost growling with impatience to know this was not the end and because his body raged to know hers again.

"I will." She said at last, his fierceness almost making her nervous yet she was not afraid of him. "Even if it is to take time."

There was nothing more said, he kissed her madly, clothes strewn about the room and he placed her on the bed impatient to know every inch of her before he was to leave. For someone with such an air of indifference about so much of his life, those who knew him from elsewhere would be shocked to see the command with which he took in this private sphere of his life that was theirs and their alone.

Afterwards, she used those hands of hers to run over his scalp hypnotically once more, she did this on many occasions as they lay tangled together. But eventually, she herself ceased and laid on her side with the want to be held and with Childermass pressed up behind her they felt warm and contented together. This position had been the start of it all really, laid resting together like two spoons, his arm draped over hers, keeping her close to him. But that had been under different circumstances, he could still feel the shivers of her body from that day in the memory of his fingertips.

In those hours with her before he departed for London, he thought of that afternoon that he held her for the first time after her trouble and how he held her now. And now as the carriage ground to a halt at an Inn, he thought of it again. There was much to be done for magic and for a few years he felt he would never care for anything other than that. To others it seemed the case, Norrell especially. But beneath the magic, he had something for himself.