Page 89 of When We Touch

“But you suspect . . . ?”

“Who else?”

“The incredibly sweet, young, beautiful Arianna?”

“Young and beautiful, yes. Sweet? Like acid!”

“Do you think she’ll keep it up?” Mireau asked worriedly.

“I think we’ll have a mother-daughter talk,” Maggie said. “And then I shall go to the paper and threaten a suit for slander.”

Mireau grinned. “There’s my girl! Back in form.” He frowned suddenly as he looked out the window.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Strange . . . I’ve never been down here looking for a prosti—” He paused, looking at Maggie and flushing. “I’m not saying I’ve never . . . just never here.”

“What are you babbling about?” Maggie demanded.

“I don’t know. There was a woman on the street, and her face was mostly hidden by her scarf and shawl. And yet . . . I saw her eyes. And she looked at me as if she knew me.”

Maggie shrugged. “Maybe she does know you.”

“Maggie! I told you, I would never come here to . . . to. I simply wouldn’t!”

She smiled. “Mireau, she might have seen you with me when we come down here to help the poor wretches.”

“Oh. Oh! Of course,” he said, and sat back.

“This is all very scary,” Maggie said.

“Of course. There’s a madman loose.”

She shook her head. “Yes, of course, but that’s not what I meant. I mean, it’s very scary, the way people come up with rumors and talk. Suggest that women might be killed because they knew about an illicit affair.”

“There’s always talk!”

“Father Vickers is right, though. Talk can hurt.”

“Maggie, we should go away. On a holiday.”

“One doesn’t go on a holiday when newly widowed,” she said.

“Ah, but one can retreat from daily life,” he reminded her. “Winter is coming. We can go to the south of Italy.”

She shook her head slowly. “I have a child to raise, remember? And I intend to do a bit of raising when I return home.”

* * *

“He saw me!” Fiona said in despair.

“Hush up!” Arianna told her. “He has no idea of who you are. You are just being silly. Now, come along. This looks like an intriguing pub.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Fiona said. “I might, but you won’t!”

“I always said that if I weren’t my father’s daughter, I would have loved to go on stage,” Arianna said. “You watch me. I can do this.”

She slipped into the pub, Fiona sighing and following in behind her. They had certainly managed to get fitting clothing. And she had to admit, Arianna, when determined, had her means and ways. They had come to Aldgate, then started walking. They had come in servants’ garb, and made themselves appear as shabby as possible.