Marrying Winterborne (The Ravenels #2) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,107
the satisfaction of a well-armed woman on a mission. “Onward, my lady.”
Chapter 28
AFTER THE FOOTMAN AND driver were sent back to Ravenel house with the message that the appointment would take longer than expected, Helen and Dr. Gibson went on foot to Pancras Road. As they walked briskly, Dr. Gibson cautioned Helen about how to conduct herself in the East End, especially near the docklands area. “Stay aware of the environment. Take note of people in doorways, between buildings, or beside parked carriages. If anyone approaches you with a question, ignore them, even if it’s a woman or child. Always walk with purpose. Don’t ever look indecisive or lost, especially if you are, and never smile for any reason. If two people are walking toward you, don’t go between them.”
They reached a wide street, and stopped near a corner. “One can always find a hansom on the main thoroughfares,” Dr. Gibson continued. “Here’s one now.” She thrust her hand into the air. “They’re always running express, so take care not to be mown down as they approach the curbstone. Once he stops, we’ll have to seat ourselves and be quick about it. Hansom horses tend to start and jerk, so mind you don’t fall from the footboard while climbing in.”
Helen nodded tensely, her heart thumping as the two-wheeled vehicle came to a violent halt in front of them. Dr. Gibson ascended first after the folding door opened, ducking beneath the trailing reins.
Grimly determined, Helen climbed up after her, gripping the oval splashguard over the wheel for leverage. The narrow footboard was slippery with mud. To make matters worse, the weight and bulk of her bustle threatened to drag her backward. Somehow she managed to keep her balance, and lunged awkwardly into the cab.
“Well done,” Dr. Gibson said. She stopped Helen from reaching for the door. “The driver will close it with a lever.” She called out their destination to the driver through a trapdoor in the roof, after using her cane to poke at a newspaper that had fallen across the opening. The door swung shut, the vehicle jerked forward, and they proceeded along the street with rapidly increasing velocity.
Whereas ordinary people rode in hansoms all the time, young women of Helen’s rank never did. The ride itself was terrifying but exhilarating. She could hardly believe it was happening. The hansom cab hurtled along at a breakneck pace, threading the mass of carriages, carts, omnibuses, and animals that crowded the thoroughfare, lurching and jolting, missing lampposts and parked vehicles and slow-footed pedestrians by inches.
“When it’s time to hop out,” Dr. Gibson said to Helen, “I’ll pay the driver through the hole in the roof, and he’ll open the door with the lever. Take care not to let the overhanging reins knock off your hat as you jump to the ground.”
The hansom jolted to a rough stop. Dr. Gibson handed up the payment and nudged Helen’s side with her elbow as the door opened. Galvanized into action, Helen clambered out and stepped on the footboard. She had to wrench her hips to pull her bustle free of the carriage. With more luck than skill, she leapt to the street without falling on her face or losing her hat. The bustle gave an extra bounce as she landed, causing her to totter forward. Immediately afterward, Dr. Gibson descended to the ground with athletic grace.
“You make it look so easy,” Helen said.
“Practice,” Dr. Gibson replied, adjusting the angle of her hat. “Also, no bustle. Now, remember the rules.” They began to walk.
Their surroundings were vastly different from any part of London Helen had seen before. Even the sky looked different, the color and texture of old kitchen rags. There were only a handful of shops, all of them with blackened windows and dilapidated signs. Rows of common lodging-houses, intended to provide shelter for the destitute, appeared unfit for habitation. People crowded the street, arguing, cursing, drinking, fighting. Others sat on steps or curbstones, or occupied doorways with ghostlike lassitude, their faces sunken-eyed and unnaturally pale.
As polluted as the main road was, layered with filth and wheel-flattened objects, it didn’t compare with the alleys that branched from it, where the ground glimmered with dark streams and standing pools of putrid liquid. Catching a glimpse of a dead animal carcass, and a doorless privy, Helen stiffened against a shudder that ran down her spine. People lived in this place. Ate, drank, work, slept here. How did they survive? She stayed close to Dr. Gibson, who