Chapter 3

Some years earlier

"Christmas is upon us again, Childermass." Norrell had uttered as he lingered over a large volume by the fire one evening. It was growing dark though the clock had only struck four thirty. His servant sat by the window, an urge to smoke his clay pipe rising within him but he never did such things in front over Norrell. They had been cooped up together at Hurtfew now for several days, the snow had been thick and difficult for even Childermass to ride out into. To say he had cabin fever would be an understatement and he had taken to being more than usually quiet, listening to Norrell's little audible acknowledgements here and there as he read. This was not how magic was to be surely? Norrell had turned finally and remarked his servant when Childermass had not replied his comment, he observed that the snow had waned in the last day and the outside world looked clearer.

"Oh for goodness sake Childermass," He griped. "Why don't you go out?"

"I've said nothing." Childermass replied, he had no fixed desire to be anywhere in particular, merely to have his own company without Norrell's scrutiny and yes maybe his pipe filled.

"All the same, we've been in here for over a week, take yourself somewhere where there is some festivity. I am quite happy here."

Indeed, were it not for the need of basic amenities, Childermass wondered if Norrell would ever leave that chair. With no further encouragement needed, Childermass rose from where his body had stiffened and left the room. He took up his coat and hat and fetched his horse from Norrell's stable and set out towards York. The evening air was chilly as he expected but the roads were clearer and it was a fairly easy ride to the city. Once there, he had been able to find himself some tobacco for his pipe and headed for the Bull Inn for the usual spot of dinner, he appreciated on his last visit the hearty slice of pie they served.

To his surprise when he arrived, the place was packed to the rafters, Christmas cheer it seemed was in full swing and from the corner an accordionist played and there were babbling voices and bellowed laughter. The air was close, a mixture of good food and cloves plus a whiff here and there of working men. He had seen Rosie but twice since their meeting at the fish market and neither time had they really spoken for she had been working. Tonight however, she was nowhere to be seen and this irked Childermass.

Thankfully Isaac Wessle spotted him as he was about to leave and beckoned him with a hand. To Childermass' surprise, he was shown to a comfortable backroom with a fire and a pleasant set up. He wasn't an idiot, Wessle had clearly spotted a man who was not a regular but likely had money to spend and a predilection for his own society.

"You can take your repast here sir if you wish?" Wessle explained. "A couple of shillings will allow you such Christmas comfort."

Childermass agreed and for the next few hours he smoked, ate and drank in the comfort of his own person. For the odd moment he even found his eyes drifting closed as his mind cast back to time as a boy with his mother or even his career as a pickpocket. This was not quite sleeping, nor was he fully awake until a song drifted over the murmurs of the crowded inn and reached his ears. Opening his eyes he sat forward and listened, he knew that voice though one or two others now joined it. Standing up he made his way back to the main throng of the inn and to his benefit, his height allowed him a good view over most of the crowd. Alongside the accordionist were two women and a man, one of them being Rosie. Her hair was most down having been loosened from a plait, yet the irritating front tendrils were twist back and fastened. Her gown was not the brown sackcloth he often saw her in, but a plan berry shade that complimented her colouring. A large smile was present on her face and to his surprise, she was seated on the knee of the young man singing with her. His arm was snaked about her waist, the hand visible for it rested just underneath one breast. This indeed would have been scandalous anywhere else, but in the drunken, jovial crowd, it seemed acceptable.

"Here come we wassailing,

Among the leaves so green;

Here we come a wandering

So fair to be seen."

She had begun again, a merry, giddy edge to her lovely voice and he could tell that she was growing ripe with drink and the festivities. At this point her two companions and the crowd around all joined in.

"Love and joy come to you

And to you your wassail too;

And God bless you and send you a Happy New Year

And God send you a Happy New Year."

Seeing his mysterious customer, Wessle came across and accosted Childermass and asked after his comfort and needs. This interrupted his view of Rosie, for like himself, Wessle was a thin, beanpole of a man and within seconds, Childermass had lost his patience.

"I am fine, leave me be."

"Very well, sir." Wessle asked, yet he continued to jabber. "May I ask where you've travelled from, I see you in here occasionally but it has been a while."

"I work for Mr Norrell of Hurtfew."

"I see… I hear of Mr Norrell… he is a fine gentleman I'm told though not one for…"

From his view, Childermass saw Rosie being pulled to her feet by her female companion, the man following and they moved towards the door, though the crowd continued with the accordionist. Paying his debts Childermass left the Inn and concealing himself in a way he had mastered from Norrell, he followed the trio at a distance. There was no rhyme or reason for this, but he had a feeling, a feeling his cards didn't need to tell him. The ladies he realised were really rather drunk, they continued their singing down the street, arm in arm, whilst their male companion slinked a little behind them like some prowling cat.

For some time they all walked together, but then there were a row of tenement houses, dank and dreary looking and here it seemed, Rosie was to part from her friends. Though they did not part company until the man handed over a bottle of something to Rosie. As the two companions continued down the street, Rosie took the bottle and took several great gulps from it and Childermass saw the effect of it loosen her limbs and make a giddy laugh escape her lips. From there she walked into the darkness of her lodgings and disappeared from view. For a few minutes he remained, just in case the prowler returned, but despite the sound of distant voices, all was quiet on the street.

On a somewhat busier street, in a far larger city some years later, Childermass gathered up his scattered Cards of Marseille after Vinculus had vanished. The site of an approaching raven on the cards and the beggar's words had unnerved him and in that moment he wished that Rosie had arrived in London. But this was for the best, he needed to decide what to do next for he was always to be three steps ahead if he was to help Norrell champion English magic. But some quiet contemplation required a place where there was no insipid Henry Lascelles or that idiot Drawlight, let alone Norrell with his questions. A place to think and plan, to review what he had just seen and the words imparted to him. Childermass opted instead for a detour walk home, the city streets would be his thinking time.

A day or two later, he found himself thinking about that Christmas Eve in York. Henry Lascelles' presence in their London house seemed permanent from Norrell rising until he retired to bed and it was wearing. It was times like this he would've enjoyed a retreat, but where was there to go in this city? He knew no place worth wandering too. So instead, with the absence of Rosie, he thought of her all the more, it was a pleasant distraction from Norrell. She would know now about it all, the papers heralding Norrell as the washer of linen. That rumour had indeed amused Childermass in private moments. Rosie would know now that he was involved with the great magician, even perhaps that he was one too. Maybe he should have told her himself.

All those years ago he had taken to coming out once or twice a week and he would watch her comings and goings, mainly keeping an eye on that wolfish young man who seemed to follow her about. Once or twice she was at work and the when she was sent to the back room to serve him his usual meal she had smiled so sweetly at him, though her eyes were red and tired.

"Hello." She said with pleasant surprise. "You found us."

"I've been here a few times."

"How have I not seen you?"

"You had other company." He replied normally, though this seemed to make her hesitate.

"Sit yourself down, we'll bring you your food."

Rosie did not return for the best part of an hour, but Childermass never being a man to rush without intent lingered in the chair smoking his clay pipe. Another young woman came and cleared his things and topped up his ale but only when the clock was edging toward eleven did Rosie come back through.

"Are you not keen to return home?"

"In time." He answered and he looked at her square in the face from his relaxed position, though she seemed nervous under such scrutiny. "Were you not called on to sing tonight?"

"Sing?" She laughed. "No, that is more to keep my own spirits up."

"Seemed like you brought a cheer to the place when I was last here."

"That's kind of you to say."

"Are you busy this evening?" He asked, standing and coming over to her.

"No, I will be finishing up shortly."

"Then might I walk you back to your lodgings?" He asked normally, he sensed she'd say yes but the look on her face was slightly questioning.

"I… I do not do…"

"You normally walk with other people but I don't see them here tonight."

"How do you…" She almost laughed now, baffled by his knowledge.

"I notice things."

"So it seems." She said and had it not been for their fleeting previous familiarity, she likely would have said no. This counted in his favour. "Yes, you can."

A little while later she had met him by the door of the Inn, she had left a little after him so that no one noticed their leaving together. Childermass saw how the moment that the spring night air hit her face, she searched in her small linen bag and brought out a bottle. At first she offered it to him but he declined, watching her take a deep swig though she was graceful about it. The way hers eyes shut when the alcohol slipped down her throat and the fleeting serenity sweeping across her face did not go unnoticed. Rosie it seemed, enjoyed a drink and perhaps it was one of her few pleasures. Returning the bottle they began to walk, he betraying his knowledge of where she resided from walking slightly ahead, leading the way. After they turned into her street, he first, she stopped forcing him to do the same.

"Have you followed me before?" She asked almost indignantly.

"At times."

"Do you make a habit of that?"

"My previous employment gave me a skillset, I have improved upon it in recent years, learnt a thing or two."

"You'll know enough then to see I'm not worth robbing."

"That." He remarked slowly. "Was never my intention."

"Then what was?"

"To see you home right, one way or another."

"You're not here every night surely?" She said, laughing at the idea, her face looking lovely when either cross like a moment ago or lighter such as now.

"No."

"Then you can see that I am capable of finding my own way."

Rosie began to walk towards her tenement but Childermass caught up with her and lightly caught her arm. Whirling around she looked at where his large hand gently stopped her.

"Though you let me join you?"

"I… I was pleased to see you that day in the market… it felt like seeing an old friend again, though I hardly know you… tonight has proven that."

"You seem to have friends enough." He had answered, and both of them knew to who he referred. Her brow furrowed into a frown, a look he himself regularly wore, yet on her it seemed almost pleasant. "Can I see you again?"

"That depends, do you mean in person or from a distance?" She joked but he took a step forward, things suddenly seeming quite serious. Rosie looked up towards his dark face, her big green eyes looking the way that they always did, knowing and sharp. "Yes, you can. I read as I presume you write so… you know how to find me."

They walked a little further, side by side now, an understanding reached. When they reached her lodgings she put out her hand in the manner of how things were done man to man in Gentlemens clubs.

"Rosie Lane." She said at last, as both an introduction and a parting remark. Childermass took her hand in his and gave it a light shake, firm still.

"John Childermass."

For a moment, beneath the slightly shrouded moon they had regarded each other, their hands falling back to their sides.

"Well… goodnight then." She said merrily and he watched her disappear down the passageway and out of his sight. As always he waited and soon he saw a small light at one window as a curtain was drawn back and Rosie appeared. Looking up and down the street he knew she was searching for him, but he had made himself a shadow now and observed her from thus until she drew the curtain again. Then and only then, did he return home for the night.

"Childermass!" Norrell called from the other room and resigning himself to the next step towards returning English Magic to its former glory, he followed the voice and his service recommenced.