The Journey: Illustrated Edition (An Anna Kronberg Thriller) (13 page)

Newgate, the central courtyard, London, 1896 (9)

The unhappy building with its small, grated windows glared down on us. We went in through the governor’s house, entered a small office where Mycroft presented the papers, muttered a few words, and an officer was called to conduct us.
 

We walked through a lodge, one of its walls decorated with heavy sets of irons — perhaps to scare the new arrivals. We passed a mighty oaken door held by cast iron bands, complete with studded nails and an armed guard, followed by a series of corridors, gates, gratings, and more guards yet. The maze of terror opened to a yard with a thick iron gate at its end. The turnkey on duty admitted us, and after a sharp left turn, we reached the condemned ward. Mycroft’s heels clacked steadily on the stone floor, as though this place didn’t touch him in the least. I held on to his steadiness, hoping Garret was still alive on the other side of the dark passage.

We entered a room with cells on either side, each guarded by a turnkey. I counted twenty-four convicts, all waiting for the gallows. We continued. Yet another yard, framed by tall walls, a narrow and obscure staircase, then a dark passage ending in a massive iron door. The turnkey bowed and admitted us, and another opened yet another door for us. Hinges screeched, locks clicked.

The “Graveyard” at Newgate Prison, London, 1896. (10)

Pushing past Mycroft, I stepped into the stone dungeon and laid my eyes on a man I hardly recognised. His orange mane was matted, his clothes and bare feet blackened with dirt. His breathing was elaborate. I rushed up to him and tossed back the veil, so he would see my face. I took his hand in mine and pressed it hard. ‘Garret.’
 

He blinked at me as though I was an illusion. ‘Anna?’

‘Don’t speak now. You are free. And please,’ I bent close to his face, ‘don’t ask questions now.’

His eyes were round in shock and disbelief. He pushed himself up, staggered a little, and I was relieved to see him stand without falling. I offered him my arm and he gladly took it. His once-muscular frame had become bony. He felt like half of the man I once knew.

I pushed forward; I would have run, but Mycroft slowed our escape to a casual walk, warning me with a flick of his finger and a sideways glance. My heart was racing. When we finally stepped out of Newgate and into the brougham, he snapped, ‘If I had known that you could barely control yourself, I would have strapped you to that bench and not allowed you to enter the premises!’

‘What was the problem?’

‘You walked into his cell,’ he said.

‘And what… Of course. My apologies. The guards will talk. It taints your reputation.’

He harrumphed and brushed at his waistcoat.

‘Garret, how are you?’ I asked.

‘Alive,’ he simply said, staring at me and Mycroft before his head fell in his hands. ‘When I saw you, I thought I was dead. A whole damn year I was convinced
you
were dead, Anna.’ He sat erect, then groaned, ‘For Christ’s sake!’ before falling silent again. The raggedness of his breath was alarming.

‘I will answer all your questions, but first I need to examine you — find out what ails you and what cure I can give you.’

‘There is no cure. I have consumption,’ he rasped.

‘How would you know?’

‘The turnkey said so. His wife had it. Half of London has it. It’s hard to miss.’

He exaggerated; perhaps twenty percent of the Londoners suffered from every form of tuberculosis. But yes, when the frigid autumn fogs rolled in, it felt as though the deep rattling coughs came from all directions.

‘We will part here,’ Mycroft said when we reached the Berkeley.

‘Thank you so much, Mr Holmes.’ I pressed his hand and climbed out of the brougham.

‘You owe me two thousand pounds. You should receive your inheritance in about a week. My brother will bring me your cheque. And you, Mr O’Hare,’ he called after Garret, who exited the carriage, ‘will not be admitted to the hotel in such a state.’ He shrugged off his coat and handed it to him to hide his worn and dirty clothes. ‘I want it back,’ he said, muffling Garret’s flood of gratitude.

I pulled the veil over my face, wrapped one arm around Garret’s waist, and together we entered the hotel. Money bought silence and smooth service. A bath for Garret, new clothing, food — all were delivered to his room.

I excused myself for a moment and knocked at Sherlock’s door. When no answer came, I returned to Garret and Barry. Both fell silent when I entered. ‘Is it true what Barry said? You are rich now, Anna?’ His face was that of a stranger; there was anger in his voice.

Was that how money changed the world? By sowing mistrust? ‘I have been rich before, when I had you and very few problems. I was happy and earned enough money to sustain myself. Now it appears I’ll lose your friendship over the shine of my newly won riches. To answer your question: Yes, I have an obscene amount of money now.’

‘Good,’ said Garret, picking at the immaculate fabric of his dressing gown. ‘Then I don’t need to feel bad about wasting some of it. This place,’ he waved at his room, ‘is… is…’

‘For rich people,’ I supplied.
 

‘Why did you leave?’ he asked.

I slumped on the armchair closest to me, all strain peeling off me. That tension had kept me upright; now gone, it left me tired to the bone. I hugged my knees and smiled at my only family. It appeared as though my unconventional behaviour reminded them of my old self. I got two lopsided smiles in return.
 

‘I had to hide. And I never told you about my past, or that one part of my life as a…’ I began, then shook my head. ‘I should explain from the beginning. I wanted to be a medical doctor since I was a child. It was heartbreaking to know that, as a woman, I’d never be admitted to university. I didn’t understand the logic behind shunning women from higher education. Don’t all men have mothers they adore? Do they all think them stupid and shallow, not wanting a life that is fulfilling? Or do they believe a fulfilling life for a woman is childbearing and serving the husband?’

I had got a little too loud. Barry was scooting about on his armchair. Even the freshly bathed mutt folded his ears. Time to rein myself in.
 

‘Anyway,’ I continued. ‘In order to enter medical school, I cut off my hair and masqueraded as a man. Strangely, I succeeded.’

Garret sat still like a rock, his eyes as large as saucers.

‘I’m still amazed that no one suspected me for more than twelve years,’ I muttered. ‘Until I met Sherlock… Holmes. It took him only two minutes to realise I am, in fact, a woman. That was on a day Scotland Yard called me in to provide an expert opinion on a corpse found floating in one of London’s drinking water reserves. The man had died of cholera.’

‘What?’ shot out of Garret.
 

I waved at him dismissively. ‘It was no threat to the Londoners. At least, not for their drinking water. But he was one in a series of victims, tortured and murdered by a group of medical doctors. They were experimenting on workhouse inmates and infecting them with tetanus and cholera, with the ultimate goal of creating a weapon.’

Both sat frozen, with the glint of shock in their eyes.

‘I worked for them while feeding information to Sherlock. Eventually, we took them down. Most of them, that is. Their leader and a few of his men remained at large. The police were looking for me, for they believed I was a criminal, too. The man at the centre of the crime was searching for me as well. So I went into hiding. A few months later, this man found me and abducted my father and me, forcing me to work for him. I lived in his house for months. I developed weapons… made of… disease.’

I swallowed my shame. ‘I broke that man and then killed him. But before he died, I shared his bed. I’m with child.’

Garret jumped to his feet, then sank back down. His face was greenish, his breathing laboured. ‘Why did you have to do all of that? I mean, why would you willingly put yourself in such danger? And in such…’ He waved at my stomach, shook his head. ‘Was that Holmes fella not man enough?’

‘What does that have to do with anything, Garret? Infectious disease is my expertise!’

‘Ah, well, that explains it!’ he quipped.

‘Did you pretend to be weaker than you are so they’d move your execution forward?’
 

He nodded.

‘Why?’

‘All that waiting was unbearable,’ he answered.

I tipped my head; I could understand this well enough. ‘Would you let me examine you?’

‘Sure.’ He began to pick at his socks, apparently not overly interested in my offer.

‘Would you give us some privacy?’ I asked Barry.

After the boy had left, I walked up to the man who had been my lover for years. I placed my hand on his cheek and, for a moment, his forget-me-not eyes fluttered shut. ‘Can you forgive me?’ I whispered.

‘For what? That you lied to me for years? That you never loved me in return?’

My hand dropped to my side. Before I could answer, he continued, ‘You told me from the first day that you couldn’t share everything with me, certain… information. I could have figured it out myself. I could have followed you. And I once did. You went into the cobbler’s at Bow Street. And I stood there, waiting for you to come out again, wondering what you were doing in there. But it felt like I betrayed your trust, so I left. I believed that one day, you’d be able to tell me. And you just did. I shouldn’t complain.’

‘Are you shocked?’

‘That you worked as a doctor? No. But I’m shocked to see distance in your face. I’m shocked to see you with child, knowing that you don’t want it and that…’ He picked up my hand again. ‘Did he force himself on you?’

‘No. But there were no warm feelings. Climbing into his bed seemed like my only way out.’

He dropped his head and squeezed my knuckles. ‘Come, Anna. Do your thing.’ A rasp of a whisper.

I cleared my throat and he rose to his feet. For want of a stethoscope, I pushed my ear on his ribcage. ‘Deep breath, Garret.’

There were the all-too-typical rattling noises, up in the bronchi and farther down in the lungs. The left side seemed to be affected; the right side sounded clear. ‘Do you cough blood?’ I asked.

‘Sometimes.’

‘How often?’

‘Since three or four weeks, every morning; every night too. At the end of each bout, a lot of… stuff comes up my throat. Some of it is bright red.’

He placed a kiss on my forehead. ‘Don’t worry about me. You just extended my life.’

‘People live with consumption for years, Garret.’ I knew that the disease must have progressed dramatically in Newgate and that he might not have years left. ‘Dammit! You are strong. I want you out of London. Breathe fresh air. Live by the sea, in a warm and clean house. Eat good food. You’ll be better in days.’

‘Come with me, Anna.’ He pressed his face in my hair and my chest to his.

‘I can’t.’

‘Why?’

‘I cannot settle down now. Three men are still hunting me. They want to take the child once it’s born, then kill me. Sherlock and I will arrest them.’

‘
You
will arrest them? You are with child. Do you want to risk its life? If that Holmes is such a sharp one, he can arrest them without you.’

‘I guess he could. But with me, it’s easier. The rats gather quicker when one offers them bait.’

‘That is…’ he fought for words, ‘idiotic!’

‘No. It’s logical. I’m safer playing the bait.’

‘Bollocks! Come with me, Anna. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll care for you and your child. It can be ours.’

‘I love another man,’ I whispered.

‘Ah,’ he breathed and pushed himself away to sit on the armchair. ‘And yet…’

I sat on the armrest, my hand on his. ‘How come you let yourself be caught?’

He laughed out loud. I had asked this same question just before I spent my first night with him. I had been ill, running a dangerously high fever, and he had taken care of me, working on lowering my temperature for hours. Since that night, I trusted him.

‘I burgled the house of a woman. She was a police inspector’s widow, as I learned later. He must have taught her things. She came at me from behind. I heard her only when it was too late. She crashed a crystal vase on my head. That woman was tall and strong enough to slam me on the head and knock me out!’ He buried a chuckle in his sleeve, then sobered up. ‘I woke up in a cell.’

He examined my small hand in his large one and said, ‘I’m not a gent. I cannot live in a nice house. I’d feel awful if I had servants. The more awful the more they’d try to make me feel comfortable.’

‘You grew up in the countryside. Don’t you want to keep sheep again?’

A smile flitted across his face. I could almost see him — the little boy Garret when he held newborn lambs to their mother’s teats.
 

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘We’ll find a small farm. Barry needs a home, Garret. He has hardened almost beyond repair.’

He nodded, his face scrunched up in concentration. ‘I need a… a little time. Two hours ago, I thought I was dead. Now I learn that you are a rich widow, that I’m free, and you want me to leave, probably to never see you again. And you love someone else. My head hurts.’ He patted my hand, then took it and placed it in my lap. I was being dismissed.