Saira hadn't brought up her issue with Matilda's attitude at Tea, not when they stopped by the bookseller to pick up the latest book of French poetry, where Mr. Cogsworth had pulled her aside to ask if all was well. Nor had she mentioned anything when they visited The Modern Modiste, where the man at the appointment podium also questioned her.
"Are you well, Miss Russell?"
"Of course," she had replied, puzzled by the sudden concern. "All is quite well."
But after Saira and Matilda had changed into breeches and button-downs and slipped through alleys, she felt like she would miss her chance if she remained silent any longer. They clambered down the embankment to the underside of Parade Bridge, close to the rushing water draining into the river from the Roman Baths.
She watched Matilda repeatedly stuff her hands into the pants pockets with a wide smile. "They hang so low, but are incredibly functional!" she exclaimed.
Saira had needed to instruct her friend not to hoist up her bottoms and tighten them around her waist, lest the curve of her hips would give away her disguise. Matilda was always, if nothing else, brutally honest, and Saira craved that honesty now.
"You don't like him."
Matilda frowned, inspecting the pocket lining out of her breeches, and then stuffed it back inside. "Why would you say that?"
"You thoroughly antagonized Mr. Quintus this afternoon. Do you find him so unpleasant?"
Matilda's frown deepened. "I find him quite pleasant, as well as attractive. My inquiry had nothing to do with Mr. Quintus, and everything to do with what he and Daniel are up to." She clicked her tongue, undid the thread button of her collar, fanning out the points, and then refastened it to cover her neck. "I see why the two of you get along so well."
Saira lifted her chin in question.
"You're both insufferably secretive. Where did you find him?"
"Here and there about town. I suppose we found each other."
"You will tell me next that you cannot reveal anything more." Matilda waved a dismissive hand. "Typical. And expected. Does he know what you can do?"
He knew better than anyone, Saira admitted to herself, feeling lighter that she had moments before. She wasn't sure why Matilda's opinion of Five settled her nerves. Before she could compose a suitable answer, she heard his unmistakable voice, along with another, coming down the embankment..
"Stop balking, and get down here, Danny!"
"What are you playing at? We re-booked the overnight for this, and I'm not even guaranteed a decent meal! Are you going to tell me what this unplanned meeting is about, or am I to go into it blind?"
The rushing waters swallowed Five's response, but the other man's voice carried clear as day. "What, those two? You know very well that I prefer petticoats over pantaloons!"
Next to Saira, Matilda bristled and turned around, adjusting her curls, which kept escaping from under the brim of her boys' cap. Saira turned with her and saw the familiar working man's trousers, the suspenders hung on lean shoulders, the unmistakable gait of someone who knew how to maneuver down a steep slope, and another man, similarly dressed, who followed just as assuredly, as if they traversed ditches on the daily.
"Not your preference, Daniel Knapp!" Matilda nudged Saira in the side. "This was a waste of my time."
"Tilda?" Daniel said, disbelief in his voice. Saira recognized him immediately. The man from the carriage that had swept Five away in the streets looked like he was seeing a ghost. Or an angel. Saira looked between the two of them and back to Five, who was grinning and backing away.
Leaving her friend to it seemed to be a good idea. As she balanced along the slope, Saira chanced a look behind her, catching the tangled embrace not entirely hidden by the bushes at river-level, and spun away. "I See enough of that already," she said under her breath and climbed further up the embankment.
"Oh, really?" Five said behind her.
"Forget I said anything," she said.
"Don't think I can," he said. "Being a professional keeper of secrets, I bet you have quite a few."
"Too many," Saira said.
She reached the top of the bridge as the harsh afternoon sun faded from the surface of the river. The street had emptied, except for a cluster of people who ducked their heads through a low doorway into the light and laughter of a nearby pub.
"How was last week's breakfast with Garfield?" Five asked, as they strolled through the deserted pubs and parlors district. It felt different from Market Street's shops and sundries, which closed up tight in the evenings. Here, several businesses were only now opening their shutters as the sun went down.
"As pleasant as a sinking stone," Saira said. "He's such a blunderbuss!" She capped her mouth with her hand, and then giggled despite letting loose such an unladylike sentiment. She never indulged in crass language, but Garfield seemed the type of man for whom baser terms and verbal offense had been created.
"He is that, and more," Five added. "I'm curious what you said that had Garfield exiting the tea shop with such a sour face. His company never saw such a solid rejection."
Saira flushed with pride, feeling a warmth that came from an entirely different place. Yes, she had handled Garfield. And she was pleased that Five had stayed to watch her do it.
"I mentioned things he did not want revealed," she said.
Five grinned. "You used your Gift."
"I looked after myself, as you said."
"Many people in this town look after you. I had a difficult time even finding out where you lived."
That was why the shopkeepers had acted so strangely. Saira imagined how confused they must have been when a stranger had gone around asking about her. "How did you finally find me?"
"The girl at the tea shop gave me your name from the appointment book, only because I bribed her. Ultimately, Mrs. Lanchester took pity on me."
He smiled wistfully. "That bookseller looked ready to tear my limbs apart."
"Mr. Cogsworth? He is a dear friend to us, and the most patient tutor I ever had. I couldn't imagine!"
"Imagine it. The whole of Market Street must think highly of you to protect you so well."
They turned onto a side street, Five with his hands in his pockets, strolling casually beside her. Saira tried to match his gait, stuffing her own hands into pockets that felt too deep, like her arms could get swallowed up in them.
Up ahead, a drunk man yelled something back at a meaty man who had just outed him from the Hobgoblin Pub.
Saira recognized that voice.
Garfield had been slightly sloshed earlier in the day, but as evening approached, he listed hard to the left. The large pub constable continued to block his re-entrance. Saira could not shake the familiar feeling of dread that gripped her by the throat. Garfield had struck her as the wrong sort, and now she knew why. He was just like her father.
Five noticed her tense up. "What's wrong?"
"I don't want the likes of him to recognize me," she said.
He nodded, grumbling. "We both had enough of him today."
But when a cry of pain rang out, Five tucked her back with him into a nearby alley. Garfield's garbled voice carried from around the corner, aiming insults and stones at the beggars in the courtyard.
"Those street people can't run off when they've got nowhere else to go." Five turned on her, his eyes glinting with purpose. "How close do you have to be to See things about someone?"
"Close enough to touch, but sometimes I can See things from across a room."
"How about a ballroom?" he asked, gesturing to the space between the alley and the next street where Garfield continued chucking stones into the courtyard. "Give me a name," he said. "Someone that Garfield hates, or better, what's the last stupid thing he's done that he won't want anyone to know about?"
Saira looked wildly at Five. "That's not how my Gift works!"
"Then how does it work?" he asked, not for the first time. "I saw you with your clients. You've got a powerful ability. Might as well use it."
Saira closed her eyes, reaching out to the jumble of images that seemed to come straight from Garfield. A scroll unfurled before her, words glowing bright against the paper. She hadn't Seen it clearly that afternoon, but it must now be fresh on Garfield's mind, because everything came into stark focus, as if she held the document in her own hands.
"Chadwick's contract is coming due. Garfield owes him a large sum, borrowed to pay off a gambling debt. The terms of forfeiture include Garfield publicly accepting financial responsibility for Chadwick's bastard… even though the child is not his." The words spilled easily from her mouth, falling around her like keys to all the locks that had held her back before.
She blinked rapidly. "I didn't know I could do that!"
Five cracked a smile. "I'm not disappointed. Though, Chadwick seemed more of a decent sort. Get ready!"
Saira wasn't sure what to be ready for until Five picked up a stone and chucked it around the corner. "Great Mother, what are you doing?" she whispered at him.
Garfield's tirade stopped. "Who's there?"
In a falsetto voice, Five called back, "Chadwick's coming for you!" Then he shoved Saira around the next corner.
"Where are you, you unlicked cub?" Garfield bellowed. "None of it is true!"
"Come find me!" Five yelled back. He grabbed Saira's hand and broke into a run, pulling her with him.
Garfield followed like a hunting dog, and suddenly there was a knife in Five's hand. Without hesitation, he pushed Saira behind him and threw it.
"Damnable chit! This is my best shirt!" The knife pinned a struggling Garfield to the wooden frame of the building by his floppy sleeve. "You'll have the devil to pay!"
Saira winced at the sound of ripping fabric. Five took her hand again, and they sprinted away. Elation was a cool breeze on her skin as they sped past shops and around corners. Dressed as hooligans, and acting accordingly, Saira relished in the thrill of it… the freedom.
When the bridge came into sight, Five glanced back to clarify the empty street, and then slid down the slope, not even slowing for a proper foothold. Saira skidded down after him and fell into his side at the bottom to keep from tumbling into the water. They both kept still, except for her heart, beating so fast that she felt like she'd never catch her breath again.
Garfield's shouts rang out from the road. Minutes later, he rushed across the bridge, still shouting at the top of his lungs.
"I can't claim your side-slip forever, Chadwick! The waif is not my son! Anyone can see he's got your eyes!"
"That's going to haunt him in the morning," Five said, still breathing hard.
Saira couldn't tell if she was shaking from nerves or relief. She let out a breathless laugh. "That was a breeze strong enough to carry him to the continent! And highly unnoble of us."
Five grinned madly. "If there is anything unnoble, it's Garfield pretending to have a shred of dignity. It's time he took up a different profession other than claiming the misdeeds of others." Five's grin slipped. "Why would your father think…"
Saira's pulse jumped in her veins at the mention of her father. The weight of carrying so many unspoken truths exhausted her. If she couldn't confide in Five, who already held her biggest secret, who could she trust?
"The estate is bankrupt. Garfield promised my father to take on all of Avonburgh's obligations, including me, if I agreed."
"Saira, you're no one's obligation."
"I know," she said. "He doesn't even want me. He plans to sell Avonburgh to settle his debts. I don't even want to think what would have happened if he'd caught up to us!"
Five scoffed. "There was no chance!" His confidence was amazingly reckless, but it also was… she pressed a hand to her chest, heart still racing as if it was sprinting down the street without her. The way Five had confidently thrown that knife should make her nervous, or at least concerned for her safety. But she felt none of that.
Perhaps he'd startled her at first, but Saira felt no danger around Five. She never had.
Five squeezed her hand, still holding it after seeing her dressed as a boy, as The Shroud, and a lady waiting for a suitor. And even now, with the back of her pants covered in mud from the slide down the embankment. She brushed away a bit of dirt off her chin, uneasiness sprouting like weeds inside her as his hand slipped out of hers and began rubbing mud off the sides of his own breeches.
"I must look a mess," Saira said, finally taking stock of the streak running down the side of her clothes.
Five stopped brushing his hands together. Saira felt his stare, felt the flush in her cheeks too, and finally… finally took a chance to look at his face.
If her Gift had been willing, she would definitely have Seen something in the intention behind his piercing gaze. Instead, she was forced to interpret his determined look on her own… and she was afraid. Not of Five. Never him. But as her thoughts spun circles inside the mental fog she always had around him, she was terrified of what she couldn't See.
She put her fear into whispers, as if she was asking her Gift one more time to show her the way. "I wonder what you must think of me."
"I see a capable woman taking charge of her own life in a place and time where it seems almost impossible to do so." He said it as if it was already true, as if Saira and her aunts were already free of her father's unspoken plans. As if she had brought her dreamt future to life and was already living it.
"You don't know that for certain."
"I do. In here," Five said, tapping his chest. "I have every confidence that you will succeed."
Saira's hand moved on its own, counting on him to excuse her for pressing through her embarrassment and against his chest. Their shoulders pressed together and her hand splayed on his shirt, warmth spread through her fingers, up her arm, getting under her skin. Every inch of her seemed affected by their connection. And yet, it was nothing like the suddenness of that first time.
She tore her hand away and sat back against the grassy slope. Maybe she had imagined the jolt. The continued silence of her Gift drained her confidence, giving her so many reasons to doubt herself.
"Still looking for that spark?" he asked.
She shook her head and then thought better of denying it. "How did you know?"
"That first time in the coffeehouse, I felt it. And you kept poking at me afterwards, like you were expecting it to happen again."
Saira stared at her hands, opening and closing them, feeling the growing intensity, a swift current that pushed her towards him, but still not what she'd been looking for. "Why won't it come back?"
"I don't think it ever left. It's gone deeper. That itch behind your eyelids that wakes you up in the middle of the night and you don't know why. Or maybe that's just me."
"I feel that too," she admitted.
Instead of pursuing the subject, Five took an apple out of his pocket and polished it on the bit of his shirt collar that the mud hadn't splattered over. He cut into it with another knife that seemed to come out of nowhere. How many knives did this man own, she wondered?
"I'm not marrying Garfield," she blurted, and then wondered why she would say such a thing.
His knife continued to slice near the core several more times. When finished, the fruit fell into eight even pieces in his hand. "Didn't think you would, but I'm glad to hear you say it." He stuck the tip into a wedge and pointed it at her. "Apple?"
She took the apple, gazing out towards where they could see their friends in the shadows, so close that she couldn't tell where Matilda ended and Daniel began.
"I'm not planning to marry anyone," she said. She took a thoughtful bite of the apple slice and almost choked on it as she watched her friend kiss the man that she loved under the bridge.
Heat spread through her chest, and she forced herself to swallow the bite. Then, because she needed something to do, she stuffed the rest of the apple slice into her mouth and chewed it down.
"Did you see that?" she asked.
"Yes," he said, pointedly looking at her with an intensity that she couldn't shake. Saira wanted to look away out of embarrassment, but part of her wanted to watch him watching her. He offered another wedge. "Want another one?"
This time, she blushed furiously. "No, thank you."
Five finished the apple and neatly tucked the blade away in his boot.
"Your Shroud business seems to turn a healthy profit. How long do you plan to continue it?"
Any other man would make it sound like he was asking 'how long do you intend to avoid your wifely duties'. Five's genuine tone made her think twice about taking offense, and the way he posed the question sounded more like the business talk in the coffeehouse that she'd heard in snatches during her boy-cap errands. She doubled back to his literal words, because the question itself had merit. From what little she knew about Five, things were changing for him. Even as his prized anonymity slipped away, he still positioned himself to take advantage of his shifting circumstances. She'd witnessed him as an Engineer, he'd spoken about belonging to the esteemed Fencing Club, and apparently he was also an expert marksman with blades. And later tonight, he and Lord Knapp were heading to a job out of town.
Saira had only her Gift. If The Shroud lost her anonymity and her father found out about the hidden money from her earnings, he would have the legal right to claim it, and within the same breath, throw it into the river, along with everything else he wasted so quickly. She hadn't thought past finally reaching the age of maturity to get out from under his control.
But years from now, how difficult would things become when she could no longer sneak through the streets as a boy for The Shroud's errands? Words that had reached her ears when she passed through the coffeehouse such as 'sustainable' and 'diminishing returns' and 'market saturation' floated back to her. Would she be able to continue relying on the income from her Sittings in another decade? Another two decades? Would she want to continue as The Shroud for the rest of her life?
"I don't know the answer to that. I enjoy helping people. But sifting through everyone's private lives to tell them what they need to hear isn't always pleasant."
"Is that always how your Gift works?"
"I don't know that either. My mother passed before I knew I could do what she did, and I never had the chance to ask her about it. She was the only one I knew who could See. Her family almost made her give it up to marry my father. But she hid it away until we came here. And now..."
Now, she was alone with a Gift she hardly understood. "It's all I have." She swallowed hard. "I sometimes wonder, now that she's gone, if I'm the only one left."
Five shifted on the slope, flexing his shoulders, sitting back as if he was thinking through a complicated puzzle. "I have brothers and sisters… a sister. I'll probably never see them again. The point is, we all have… had," he corrected himself. "We all used to have inexplicable abilities like yours."
Saira blinked up at him. "All of you could See things?"
"No. My sister had a type of mind control, but nothing like what you can do. One of my brothers was almost indestructible. Another had uncanny aim. We were all different. We trained, too. Pushed limits. Some of us got extremely powerful. If I could still do now what I used to, my life would be very different."
A whole family with Gifts. Saira tried to imagine it. Sharing experiences, and training… getting stronger. It was a dream she never dreamt.
"I think they would like you." Five added, staring at the water.
Saira waited for him to continue, to give her more of his story, but apparently that was all he was willing to say. She wished Gautami Russell could meet Five… desperately wanting to know what her mother would think of him, what she would have thought of everything he was telling her. She wondered, most of all, if her mother would have encouraged her to use Gift more often, not just at Sittings, but as she had used it today.
Saira desperately wanted to ask Five what his Gift had been, how he had lost it, and why he had come here of all places, but she could see that his admission had been a struggle. She would not push him, or give him a reason to run from her again, like he had before. But she still had burning questions.
"How… how did you know when to use it?"
Five cleared the gravel out of his throat and continued. "That's… always a hard decision. Some of us went too far. My family… we crossed lines. I'm sorry if you thought I pushed you into taking unfair advantage of Garfield. But I won't be sorry about the result. He deserved everything he got. You're right to call it a Gift. You deserve to earn a better life and reach for what you want when you have the ability to take it."
"I haven't thought past moving into Mrs. Lanchester's rooms over Market Street with my aunties. I want…" She huffed, blowing stray strands of hair out of her eyes. "I just want to feel it again."
Five took her hand, placing it low on his neck, where his pulse danced faster under her fingertips than she thought possible. "Can you feel that?"
Saira bit her bottom lip at the way his skin felt under her touch. Warm… no, hot. His skin was hot, and she wanted to burrow into his neck and drown in it. As he leaned in, a sudden, self-conscious panic made her push him away.
"I'm filthy!" she cried.
He chuckled dryly. "I'm as filthy as you are." He flicked a piece of dirt out of the wisps of hair escaping her cap. "And I should probably mention that I won't be available for tea next week. The job will last almost a week."
"Oh," she breathed. "We are both traveling then. I may ride with Matilda, to spend a few days in London with my father."
"What's in London?" Five asked.
"Business," she said, even quieter.
"His, or yours?"
Five's question made Saira stop and think again. This man kept saying things like he believed she was capable and independent. With the help of her aunties, she mostly was.
"Perhaps I will do some business in London while I'm there," she mused. All she needed was her satchel and a well-placed advertisement. Saira wondered, with this newfound confidence, if she could pull it off.
"I'm sure you will do well," Five said.
He leaned back against the bank, and Saira's gut gnawed at itself for how close they still were, knees touching through breeches, and yet, making her wholly incapable of moving away. She stared at the swelled water level ebbing towards the larger part of the river.
If she angled her head, she could make out the lanterns of the evening coaches crossing the bridge. Tomorrow, she and Matilda would be on one of those coaches, and tonight would be just a memory. Any words said would be gone like the rushing water. Things churned inside of her… ideas and fancies, feelings and sensations… a curl in her toes. A buzzing in her fingertips.
Her head had bent so much to see the carriage lights that it ended up on Five's shoulder. Saira decided that whatever was happening, she would let it, because these feelings were no one else's but hers. He'd kissed her once before. She wondered why he wasn't doing it now, and if he was sorry she had stopped him from trying… wondering if it was too forward of her to mention that she wanted to do it again.
She set that thought aside, because Five was not conventional in any sense of the word. He wasn't from Bath, or England even. Perhaps he didn't know the rules that she'd been brought up to believe were proper, and perhaps that's why he did everything backwards… and unexpectedly.
Perhaps she should learn from that.
"Mrs. Lanchester told me recently that a lady should have tea with a gentleman, if that's what she wants. I wonder if that theory applies to other things as well."
Five's breath puffed out against her forehead. "Mrs. Lanchester's theory seems sound. We should apply it, if that's what you want."
She wanted her hand to wrap around his shirt in a fist and pull him in. She wanted her lips to move over his, and her heart to beat faster and louder than she had ever thought possible. Even if she didn't know this man on the inside, he'd told her what he thought of her. She wanted to be that person with confidence and power, who had a Gift and knew how to use it.
Granting herself permission, she pulled him in and pressed her lips against his. In the back of her mind, she saw again the garden wall with the vines in full bloom. Her world swirled into watercolor, capturing this singular time and place where all she needed was to sigh against his lips and feel his fingers trace the curves of her calves. They lingered in that position for whatever time passed, she wasn't sure, any remaining thoughts focused on how he had a few unspoken gifts himself.
"Ow!" he said, his nose bumping into hers.
"What is it?" she asked, blinking quickly.
"I'm sorry," Five said against her mouth, and then kissed her again.
"You two!" Daniel called out, jerking Saira's attention back to their surroundings. She looked up just in time to see him aiming another rock at Five's head. Matilda giggled against his arm.
""Ah, hell. We're late." Five untangled himself and stood up, brushing himself off. He held out a hand to her. Wide-eyed, she took it, and he hoisted her to her feet, as if that was the natural thing to do after getting caught in a compromising position. He tipped his cap and clambered up the embankment with Daniel. Then, like water under the bridge, they were gone.
***When they reached the grassy path, Matilda looked her up and down and clicked the inside of her mouth at Saira's muddy breeches. "I don't want to know what devilish things the two of you got up to."
"Sliding down an embankment is not devilish, it's a necessary step in evading trouble," Saira stated. Matilda's playful scoff didn't completely erase her irritation at her own embarrassment, so she threw her own words back at her friend, if only to make herself feel better. "Lord Knapp must be quite adept with his hands, judging by the state of your hair."
Matilda blushed, but didn't hide her smile as she tried to stuff her unkempt curls back under her cap for at least the third time that evening. They were both too pleased to take any offense, but her friend worried her lips through her teeth and asked, "How are we going to explain our devilish state to your aunties?"
"The garden entrance leads to the back stairs, and then we clean up for dinner, as if it never happened."
Saira's heart lurched at her own words. It had happened. And she wasn't soon to forget it, either.
"Meadow green eyes and a smart mouth," Matilda said. "I didn't know you fancied such a man."
Such a man as Five… even in her wildest dreams, she hadn't known such a man as Five existed. Five had trusted her with another secret. He was an unbelievable man who had just told her she wasn't the only one in the world who had an unbelievable Gift. In fact, his whole family had done unbelievable things.
"I am glad you and Lord Knapp finally kept your appointment," Saira said. "I hope the two of you are able to forge a future together. You deserve happiness."
"Daniel is determined that we will find a way," Matilda said.
As she walked along the river, Saira regarded everything she had learned about her friend in their short time together. Matilda had gone through the motions of two Seasons for the sake of her mother, yet she held on to the belief that she had already found her match. For the same two years, Daniel Knapp expertly balanced the double role of Lord's son and vagabond. They didn't need Saira's Gift to give credence to Daniel's determination or Matilda's unwavering faith that things would eventually work out in their favor.
And yet, as Saira imagined her own future, earned through her own merits, bright and sure as morning, she had to beat back the doubts like dust balls. Even as her Gift funded her dream, it remained stubbornly silent, giving her no guidance whether she'd chosen the right path. How could she assure so many people about their truths, when her Gift gave her no assurances of her own?
They walked along in silence, the setting sun bathing them in muted reds and pinks, bringing out familiar shadows on the surface of the water.
"This is a wonderful life you have in Bath, Saira," Matilda said earnestly.
Saira didn't argue that most recently, some parts had been quite wonderful, even if it wasn't meant to last.
"And Mr. Quintus is kind to have arranged the meeting for us," Matilda added. "He is a good man."
"He is that," she agreed. At least the little she knew of him was. Even in his cryptic fashion, she could tell it hadn't been easy for him to reveal what little he had about his family. Part of him seemed scared to even tell her what terrified him so. Tonight, in a way, they'd worked together. She'd reached out with her Gift and asked her own questions, and regardless of his claim that he no longer possessed any Gift, she'd seen (with her actual eyes) Five's remarkable accuracy with his knives. What if there was another way to imagine their futures? What if… but then, they couldn't very well live out the ballad of Robin Hood and his band of merry aunties, trading knives for arrows in the Greenwood, taking from the dubiously funded and giving to the poorly prepared. Such a riot that would be!
As much as she wished for Five to fit into her future, her sensibilities reminded her of all the reasons it could not be. Five wanted solitude. Saira needed security for her aunties, as well as for herself. She was almost there… no need to upset the carriage in the middle of the journey.
"He has his own plans, and there is no place for him in mine," Saira said firmly.
"Well." Matilda looked at Saira pointedly. "There should be."