Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2)

Rebel Angels (Gemma Doyle #2) Page 38

"Miss Moore!" I shout from the window, forgetting my manners entirely.

Miss Moore stops, no doubt wondering who could be calling to her on the street in such a rude fashion. When she sees me, she comes over to the carriage. "Why, Miss Doyle! You're looking well. Merry Christmas to you."

"Merry Christmas."

"Are you in London long?" she asks.

"Until after the new year," I say.

"What a happy coincidence! You must come to call.''

"I should like that very much," I say. She looks quite radiant.

She hands me her card. "I have taken lodgings in Baker Street. I am at home all day tomorrow. Do say you'll come."

"Oh, yes, of course! That would be grand. Oh ..." I stop.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid I have a previous engagement tomorrow, with Miss Worthington and Miss Bradshaw."

"I see." She doesn't need to say anything else. We both know that we girls were responsible for her dismissal. "We're all terribly sorry for what happened, Miss Moore."

"What's done is done. We can only move forward."

"Yes. You are right, of course."

"Though, given the chance, I should enjoy torturing Miss Worthington," Miss Moore says with a gleam in her eye. "She has more cheek than should be reasonably tolerated."

"She is quite saucy," I say, smiling. Oh, I have missed Miss Moore!

"And Miss Cross? Will you not be seeing my accuser over the holidays?" Miss Moore's smile falters when she sees my shocked expression. "Oh, dear. I've upset you. I am sorry. Despite my feelings toward Miss Cross, I know you are friends. That was rude of me."

"No, it isn't that. It's . . . Pippa's dead."

Miss Moore covers her mouth with her hand."Dead? When?"

"Two months now."

"Oh, Miss Doyle, forgive me," Miss Moore says, placing her hands on mine. "I had no idea. I've been away these two months. I only just returned last week."

"It was her epilepsy," I lie. "You remember her difficulty." Something in me wants to tell Miss Moore the truth about that night, but not yet.

"Yes, I remember," Miss Moore says. "I am sorry. Here it is the season of forgiveness and I've shown nothing but a hard heart. Please do invite Miss Bradshaw and Miss Worthington. They are welcome."

"That is very generous of you, Miss Moore. I'm sure we should all like to hear of your travels,'' I say.

"Then I shall tell you. Shall we say tomorrow at three o'clock? I shall prepare a very strong tea and Turkish delight."

Blast. There is the difficulty of getting my grandmother to allow me to pay a call without her. "I should like that very much, if my grandmother will agree to it." "I understand," she says, stepping away from the carriage. A beggar boy with one leg limps to her side.

"Please, miss? A ha'penny for the crippled?" he says, lip trembling.

"Nonsense," she says. "You've tucked your leg up inside your trousers there, haven't you? Don't lie to me."

"No'm," he says, but now I can see the outline of the other leg clearly.

"Run along with you before I call the constable."

Quick as a flash, the leg comes down and he's off running on two able feet. I laugh at this. "Oh, Miss Moore, I am happy to see you."

"And I you, Miss Doyle. I am home most afternoons from three until five o'clock. You have an open invitation to call anytime."

She heads off blending back into the throng of Oxford Street. Miss Moore was the one who first told us about the Order, and I wonder what more she could tell us--if we dare ask her. She'd probably send us packing if we did, and rightfully so. Still, there must be something on which she can shed a bit of light, if we are very careful in our inquiries. And if not, at the very least it is a way out of my grandmother's house. Miss Moore just may be my best hope for sanity this holiday.

Tom's back from the shop. He drops the box, wrapped artfully in brown paper and string, into my lap. "One hideous fruitcake. Who was that woman?"

"Oh," I say, "no one. A teacher." As the carriage jostles to life, I add,"A friend."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

GRANDMAMA HAS LET AN ELEGANT HOUSE IN FASHIONABLE Belgrave Square bordering Hyde Park. She usually stays at Sheep's Meadow, her country home, coming into London only for the season, May through mid-August, and for Christmas. That is to say, she comes only when she wants to see and be seen by London society.