Something Strange and Deadly (Something Strange and Deadly #1)(53)

“No, of course not,” I lied.

Mr. Peger pursed his lips. “This boy would be a young man now. His name is Sure Hands Danny. He’s an escaped convict, and I imagine you’d want to help me find him.”

“Convict?”

“Aye, from Philadelphia’s own Eastern State Penitentiary.”

“Wh-what was he arrested for?”

“Murder.”

My heart punched against my ribs. “Murder?”

“Aye. Murder.” He shoved the paper back in his pocket. “He was also responsible for an explosion at a factory. Maybe you heard of it, hmmm? Happened six years ago, and I gather it caused Fitt Railway Supply a lot of trouble.”

I bit the inside of my mouth until I tasted blood. That was the explosion that caused Father to lose his contract. It was the explosion that killed his company.

Mr. Peger twirled a finger in his mustache and watched me.

Despite my wavering confidence, I forced myself to speak steadily. “I don’t recall such an explosion.”

“Really? Well, no matter. I’ve a pretty good idea where Sure Hands Danny is hiding. The word is he’s here—mighty foolish of him, considerin’ his past and all. He may have gotten away before, but Sure Hands Danny can’t hide from me. Not at the high price my client is willing to pay. I’m going to find him. So”—he leaned toward me—”if you happen to see this man, tell him he can’t hide from me much longer.” He doffed his hat. “G’day, Miss.”

I hugged my parasol to my chest and watched him amble off into the crowd. I staggered to the Corliss engine, desperately needing a moment to catch my breath and gather my emotions.

When I reached a narrow set of iron stairs that soared dangerously upward, I plopped onto them. They led to a series of catwalks meant for aerial viewing of America’s greatest mechanical triumph, and though I wasn’t allowed to ascend—boys and men only—surely there was no harm if I simply sat.

Had Mr. Peger spoken the truth? Was Daniel a murderer? Had he destroyed the factory? Destroyed my father?

I couldn’t believe it. Not Daniel! His temper was short and his manner crude, but he had never hurt me. If anything, he’d been protective. I trusted him. I believed him to be good.

But... but maybe it’s all an act. Just like Mama pretends we’re still wealthy. Like Clarence pretends his life is fine. Like I pretend to fit in with the high-society girls.

I rocked forward and back. Who was good? Who was bad? And if there was no one I could trust, did that mean I was all alone?

I pressed my hands to my face. No, I wasn’t alone; I still had Elijah. Elijah was good. Elijah I could trust.

Soon, I will find him. Soon.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“But Mama!” I cried. “That’s not appropriate!” I stood in my bedroom, dressed only in my underclothes. After I’d arrived home from the Exhibition, my mind spinning with questions about Daniel and my mouth sputtering lies of a failed trip to the market, Mama had swept me off to the dressmaker (for the final fitting of a dress she had failed to mention she was having made) and then shoved me into Mary’s hands to go back home for preparation.

Going to the opera was drab Eleanor’s chance to shine—or at least it was in Mama’s eyes.

It didn’t take long before my head began to ache from the multitude of hairpins scraping at my scalp and straining at the tightness of my coiffure. After two hours of me being primped and curled under Mary’s none-too-gentle hands, my patience was entirely spent.

Mama left the doorway and crossed to me. She still wore her robe, and her hair was untended. She waved a letter in my face. “Neither of the Wilcox ladies will be attending—do you know what sort of opportunity this is? It is great luck they are ill.”

“What a horrible thing to say.” I clenched my fists. “How can you even consider not joining? I am only sixteen, Mama. This isn’t some casual drive—it’s the opera. Everyone will see me alone with him!”

She snorted. “I thought you would be delighted to spend time alone with your sweetheart.”

“It’s actually the last thing I want, and he’s not my sweetheart.” The absurdity of the statement, of the situation, of my mother! I had to convince her to call the whole evening off. I had no desire to see Clarence Wilcox and his brewing insanity. My wrists were still tender from yesterday’s outburst.

Plus, if she canceled our opera attendance, then maybe I could sneak away. Maybe I could go to Machinery Hall and help the Spirit-Hunters get their dy***ite. More importantly, maybe I could confront Daniel. I refused to believe Peger’s word until I heard Daniel’s own explanation.

Mama gripped my shoulders and wrenched me around to face her. “Mr. Wilcox had better be your sweetheart, Eleanor.”

“And what will you do, pray tell, if Clarence isn’t interested in me at all?”

“Clarence?” A squeal erupted from her lips. “Do you call him by his Christian name? Oh, Eleanor!” She flung her arms about me and squeezed.

“No, Mama.” I battled the embrace and backed away. “I do not address him as Clarence. We’re not nearly as close as you imagine.”

“That is not what Mrs. Wilcox said.” She lifted a single, accusatory eyebrow. “Mrs. Wilcox said Clarence speaks of nothing else. Of how different you are.”