Thirty-Two

Honor glanced at Leo, still standing at Vivian's side. "I came to talk to you, pet," she said quietly. "I wanted to see how you are."

"How I am? I hope you mean you came to say good-bye. You owe me that much, at least." Vivian took a step forward. Maybe they could be honest with each other at last. "Maybe you could also tell me why. I'm turning myself in, I don't have a choice there. So maybe it doesn't matter anymore, not really. But I know that you—" Vivian broke off, caught off guard by the flood of words. Honor was staring at her, unreadable as ever. Why had Vivian ever thought she might care?

"Did you hate him that much?" she asked.

Honor shook her head. "I never hated him."

Vivian hauled in a shuddering breath. "It's me you hate, then?" she whispered, her voice breaking.

There were tears in Honor's eyes. That didn't make sense. Honor, of all people, never cried. "Vivian, I could never—" She stopped, looking at Leo. He hadn't said a word, but Honor still hesitated. "You're right, it doesn't matter anymore." Slowly, deliberately, she shook out her jacket and shrugged it back on. This late at night, with her hat perched on top of her pinned-up hair, anyone walking past her on the street would probably see a stylish young man. Honor moved through the world however she wanted.

She walked away whenever she wanted.

She settled her coat, then gave Vivian a small nod. "I won't bother you anymore, Vivian." She paused. "And, I know it won't make a difference, but I am so—"

It took Vivian a moment to realize she wasn't going to finish her sentence. "What?" she demanded. "You're so what?"

Honor stared at her without speaking, and Vivian couldn't even begin to guess what she was thinking. "Well, there it is. We all have hard choices to make," she said softly, almost as if she was speaking to herself. She took a deep breath. "I have some business to take care of that can't wait. So, good-bye, Vivian."

"Honor."

"I'm glad you won't be alone tonight," she added, glancing at Leo again before she turned away and headed for the stairs.

"Honor."

And once again, she was gone.

Vivian turned away from the quick, determined sound of Honor's feet on the stairs. Her whole body ached with exhaustion, the fight that had carried her through the week suddenly gone out of her. She wanted to lie down and sleep for the few hours she had left. Maybe, just maybe, she could do that without dreaming.

"Come on," she sighed to Leo, fishing her keys out of her bag. "Let's—"

Her hand froze even as she reached for the door. She didn't need her keys. It was already open a single, careless inch. Vivian stared at it, not moving. Then—

"Goddamn it."

"Viv?" Leo sounded alarmed. "What happened?"

"She can pick locks," Vivian said, her voice shaking. She shoved the door all the way open. "Don't you remember? Honor can pick locks. Goddamn it."

"What did she want?"

"I don't know," Vivian said, staring around wildly as Leo closed the door behind them. "There wasn't—"

She broke off. There was. Of course there was. Vivian walked straight to her bed and yanked the pillow aside. Both the letter from Honor's mother and the reference for Maggie Chambers were gone.

How had she known? Or had she just wondered what Vivian might have found and searched, just in case? The letter Vivian could understand; if she had found something her mother had written, she'd have snatched it up too. But what about the reference?

Honor knew Maggie Chambers. That had to be it. The maid, whoever she was, had been in on the plan the whole time.

"What is it?" Leo asked. "Did she take something?"

Vivian jumped, spinning around to stare at him. Had it even been a minute since Honor had left? There was still time to catch her if they hurried.

"Where are you going?"

Vivian was already at the top of the steps. "I'm going to follow her. Are you coming or not?"

Even in the dim hall light, she could see the muscles clench in his jaw. "Yeah," he sighed. "I'm coming."

Vivian didn't bother to keep her steps quiet as they ran downstairs and back out into the night. Her ankle ached, but it was a distant pain, drowned under waves of anger and adrenaline. The city was still dark, but it wasn't quiet. Somewhere across the river, she could hear a factory bell clanging, its sound louder in the quiet, clear air as it dragged the next round of workers into their shift.

Vivian was breathing hard as she turned, looking up and down the street. Had Honor disappeared?

"There," Leo murmured, pointing, a figure in a suit and hat disappearing around the dim corner at the end of the street.

They turned the corner just in time to keep her in sight, Vivian grim and determined, Leo's reluctance almost a physical presence beside her. Two blocks. Three. Five blocks heading east. Vivian wanted to run after her, to grab her and shake her and demand answers. But she knew better than that. They hung back enough that if she turned, they could duck out of sight.

"What did she take?"

"Letters," Vivian said. Quietly, she told him what she had found that day.

"How do you think she knew they were there?" Leo asked when she fell silent. He grabbed her hand to keep her from stepping in an oil-slick puddle.

"I don't think she did," Vivian replied. She'd had enough time to think it over as they dodged through the city streets. Ahead of them, Honor turned south. "I think she got a little bit lucky. She must have decided to check my place. She had to know it was worth looking because… because she knows me." She swallowed back a lump in her throat as she said it. If Honor didn't know her so well, it wouldn't hurt so much. "She had to know I was looking for whatever I could."

"So she is mixed up in it," Leo said quietly.

Vivian nodded. "Whoever that maid really is, Honor knows her. She wouldn't have taken that reference, otherwise."

"She's the person who was meeting with Buchanan that morning."

"Maybe." It made too much sense not to think it. But it still didn't feel quite right. "Whatever it is, maybe we're about to find out."

Leo didn't say anything in response. They were coming to a busier part of the city, where restaurants served sleepy customers through the night. It was easier to blend in here. It would also be easier to lose Honor. They began to move more quickly. Ahead of them, Honor disappeared around another corner. When they finally reached it, she was half a block ahead, just climbing into a cab.

In a moment she'd be gone from sight. Vivian stared around wildly. There were three more cabs on this street, drivers snoozing at the wheels, waiting for any final fares as the last revelers of the night stumbled home. She didn't have any money with her, but that didn't stop her from banging on the window of the first cab to wake the driver up. Paying the fare was a problem for the future. She couldn't risk Honor getting too far ahead. Vivian yanked the door open and slid in, scooting all the way over so Leo could follow her.

"We're going the same place as your pal up there," she said, a little out of breath and hoping he couldn't hear it. Or maybe he'd think they were on the run and drive even faster.

The cabdriver gave her a skeptical look as Leo slammed the door shut behind them. "What's the address?" he said gruffly.

"No idea," Vivian replied, trying to sound cheerful and harmless. "You know how it goes. We're just supposed to follow them. Better hurry."

She held her breath, thinking for a moment that he would refuse. But then he shrugged. "Fare's a fare," he said gruffly, and pulled into the street.

"Are you sure it's worth it?" Leo asked, one leg bouncing anxiously.

"I need that letter," Vivian whispered, staring straight ahead, her eyes locked on Honor's cab, worried their driver would miss a turn or lose sight of it.

"Looks like they're going over the East River Bridge," the cabbie said gruffly. "Still want me to follow?"

"Yeah. Yes. Thanks, mister."

Leo didn't say anything else as they drove over the impossibly long suspension bridge and turned into Brooklyn. Vivian started to feel lightheaded. She had read the letters. This was where Honor had grown up.

"Pull over here," Leo told their driver quietly when Honor's cab began to slow down. Vivian glanced at him; he gave her a brief, tight smile as he pulled a small roll of cash from his pocket and peeled off a few bills. He held them out. "Twice that, plus whatever the fare is, if you stick around, yeah? We might need to scram in a hurry."

The cabbie took the cash—he'd have been crazy not to—but he scowled at them as he did it. "I ain't sticking around for anything not on the up-and-up," he said. "First sign of trouble, I'm off."

"We're not here for trouble," Leo said, handing over another bill. "I just don't want my gal to ruin her dancing shoes hoofing it back over that bridge."

The cabbie snorted. "Sure, pal. Whatever you say. I'll stay 'til I have a good reason to go, how 'bout that?"

"Works for us," Leo said. "See you in a bit."

Vivian was already heading down the street, not wanting to lose sight of Honor, on foot now and turning into a narrow alleyway. The street on the other side could barely be called that, hemmed in by buildings like teetering children's blocks. The cabs certainly wouldn't have fit down there.

Honor headed toward one of them. Laundry that someone had forgotten to bring in still fluttered from lines between its windows. A woman sat on the front stoop smoking, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Inside, a dog barked, then broke off with a yelp and a whimper.

Vivian stopped in the shadow of a building. If Honor was meeting someone inside there, they'd have to figure out how to sneak in. Maybe if they—

"Should I have been expecting you tonight?" The woman on the stoop blew out a long stream of smoke and leaned back on one hand, looking up at Honor.

"It's morning," Honor said quietly, stopping on the pavement without climbing the steps. "Sun'll be up in a couple hours."

"Not here it won't," the woman said, gesturing at the buildings that surrounded her. "Takes longer for it to make its way over this horizon. Though maybe you've been gone too long to remember that."

She leaned forward as she spoke, and the light from a flickering streetlamp stuttered across her. Vivian grabbed Leo's hand. She hadn't been able to catch more than a glimpse of the maid's face that day—Maggie Chambers had been too careful to keep her head down. But Vivian recognized the sandy-gray hair, the hoarse voice.

Honor had known exactly where to find her. In Brooklyn. Did that mean—

"Don't act like you're neglected," Honor growled. "I'm here every week. You're the one who's refused to move."

"I like it here," the woman said. She chuckled, but the sound was lost in a fit of coughing. "But you don't, so what brings you by?"

Honor pulled a paper from her pocket and held it out. Even from this distance, Vivian could see that her hands were shaking. "You said it wasn't you."

Maggie held her hand out for the paper, and her face twisted into a grimace as she read. She looked back up. "Well, and you clearly didn't believe me. You knew I'd done it, or you wouldn't have been trying so damn hard to get me to leave town this week. Nothing's changed."

"Nothing's changed? If the cops had seen this—"

"But they didn't," Maggie snapped. "And they're not going to, right?" Deliberately, she ripped the paper in half. Vivian couldn't stop the whimpered gasp that escaped her. Honor started forward, one hand outstretched, but Maggie ripped it again, and again, then shoved the pieces into the pocket of her housedress. "They're not going to," she repeated.

Honor let her hand fall. "And Maggie Chambers?" she asked. "You just went ahead and used your real name? What if he'd recognized it? What if he'd recognized you?"

"He never bothered to learn my real name, the bastard. I was Margaret Diamond to him. And as far as recognizing me…" Maggie snorted, gesturing angrily toward herself. "Even if he did bother to look closely at one of his maids, would this make him think of the pretty dancer he used to know?"

A roaring sound filled Vivian's head. It felt so real that she flinched, cowering back against the wall.

Maggie was still talking. "Especially with a little makeup on. I haven't lost that knack, even after all these years, so don't talk to me like I'm stupid, Honor."

"Like you're stupid?" Honor demanded. "Like you're stupid? After what you did, that's your biggest worry?" Her voice cracked, and when she spoke again, she sounded small and lost. "You told me it wasn't you, Ma."

"Did you believe me?"

"No." Honor's voice was bleak.

"Oh, baby girl." Maggie stood, shaking her way through another bout of coughing. Her bluster faded away as she came down the steps to wrap her arms around her daughter. "He doesn't deserve this from you. He's the reason your life has been so hard. He's the reason we lost Stella. This way, he's finally taking care of you like he always should have. All I did was make the world a fairer place."

"All you did—" Honor pulled away. "Can you hear yourself talking, Ma?"

Maggie glared at her. "Don't pretend like your hands are so clean, my girl. I know what sort of work you do. So don't get all high and mighty and act like you're better than me. We're the exact same kind of trash, you and me, and we do what we need to so we can survive."

"This is different," Honor said, her voice so quiet that Vivian could barely hear it. "And you know it is."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Vivian could have sworn the whole city had gone silent around them, waiting.

"What are you going to do, then?" Maggie asked, before she was interrupted by another hacking cough that shook her whole body. She grabbed the railing and slowly lowered herself back onto the steps. When she spoke again, her voice was weaker. "I'm your mother, Honor."

"And he was my father."

"And he didn't give a damn about you!" Maggie yelled, coughing again. "I was there every goddamn day, when you were hungry or sick or getting into trouble. I was there when Stella—" She broke off and took a deep, shaking breath. "I was there. I didn't owe him anything, and neither do you," she said, her voice small and sad.

"It's not just him—" Honor started to say, but her mother began coughing again. Honor abandoned her protests and knelt next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against her mother's.

"It's just you and me, right, baby girl?" Maggie Chambers said, cupping a hand around her daughter's cheek. "We're all we have left." Neither of them moved.

"Come on, Ma," Honor said at last. "Let's get you inside."

"I don't need you to tell me…"

Vivian couldn't listen to any more. She turned, walking so quickly that she was nearly running, and then she was running, pushing her way blindly through the alley, until she burst onto the quiet Brooklyn street, gasping for air almost as badly as Maggie Chambers had.

She wanted to blame Honor. She wanted to hate her—but oh, she couldn't make herself do it. She understood too well.

What if it had been her and Florence? Could she have turned on the only family she still had in the world, the one person who had never left her when everyone else had?

Vivian lifted her face toward the cloud-bruised sky, letting the cold air dry the tears that wanted to fall. She and Honor had always been too much alike.

"Viv, are you okay?" Leo's touch on her arm made her jump, but she didn't pull away. "That was… was that really…"

"She was the maid," Vivian said. "The one who told him—" She laughed bitterly. "So all the other servants who said no one else came to the house that day were telling the truth. It was her the whole time."

"She ripped it up," Leo muttered. "That was your proof, and she's just going to throw it in the trash."

Vivian pressed her hands against her temples. "I can try—I can still tell him tomorrow, right? The commissioner. I can tell him about Maggie Chambers…" She was pacing back and forth across the pavement, she realized, her steps jerky and frantic. She stared at Leo. "Will he do anything about it if I have no proof?"

Slowly, Leo shook his head. "I don't think he'd have done anything even with proof."

"But maybe someone will," Vivian said, wrapping her arms around herself. "A cop, a lawyer, someone…"

"Maybe," Leo said, but his heart wasn't in it.

"And if they don't…" Vivian's voice cracked. "I guess at least I got my answers."

Leo pulled her roughly to him, and Vivian laid her head against his chest, shivering. "Are you cold?" he asked. "We need to get you inside."

She was cold. She was numb all over, her ankle throbbing, her heart knotted inside her chest. "Take me home," she whispered.

He did. The cabbie hadn't left, but Vivian was barely paying enough attention to be relieved. She was silent through the ride, staring out at the city that had always been her home, watching tall buildings and dark windows flickering past. The window was icy against her cheek. On the seat between them, she reached for Leo's hand. He jerked it away, but a moment later it was back, and his fingers curled tightly around hers.

The ride back might have taken five minutes or five hours. None of it felt real. If it hadn't been for those two sensations—the chill of the glass, the warmth of his hand—she might have believed that everything around her was only a dream.

She had her answers. And she was out of time.

She didn't let go of Leo's hand while he paid the cabbie or while they climbed the stairs to her cramped, ugly little home. She hadn't stopped to lock the door when they left, and soon enough they were inside. She dropped his hand to close the door behind them, then turned, her back against it, her palms pressed against the wood. "Leo," she said softly.

He didn't seem to know what to do with himself, fidgeting with his hat as he paced from one side of the room to the other, spinning it in anxious circles until he lost his grip and it tumbled to the floor.

"Leo," she said again.

He stopped in front of her, breathing too fast, and finally looked at her. "What are you going to do?" he whispered.

There had been ice holding the pieces of her together, but that whisper cracked it. She grabbed his coat and yanked him to her, needing the feel of his mouth, his body, anything to remind her that for a few hours more she was still herself, still alive, still free.

For a moment, his weight pressed her against the door, and then his hands were at her hips. It was only a few steps from the door to the bed; he lifted her easily and tumbled them both onto it. She sat up so she could push his jacket away, but instead she clung to it, her breath coming in shuddering gasps.

"Leo, you gotta help me," she begged. It hadn't seemed real, until that moment, like something from a film instead of her life. She hadn't believed that she would have to go to that station in the morning. "You can get me out of town, right? I can head for Chicago or—"

"I can't, Viv," he said, his voice cracking. There were tears in his eyes, the only time she had ever seen him cry. The pads of his fingers pressed against her skull, her cheeks, as though he was afraid she would disappear in front of him. "You know what he said. He'll come after my father. I can't…" He pressed his forehead against hers, and he was shaking. "Please don't ask me to choose."

"I won't," she whispered, her eyes closed. "I won't, I'm sorry. I couldn't go anyway. Florence and…" She gasped back a sob that wanted to escape. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't. "I'm just so scared, Leo. I'm so scared. I can't…"

His mouth caught hers as her words trailed off, and she could taste salt on both their lips. She kissed him back, fingers going to his waistband to yank at his shirt, frantic as they slipped underneath.

Leo's hands, normally so smooth and sure of themselves, were clumsy as they fumbled at the buttons down the back of her dress. Vivian drew away just long enough for him to pull it over her head, her own fingers greedy at the buttons of his shirt. She was cold, so cold, she would never be anything but cold again, but his skin was warm and she sank against him as he tugged his own shirt off and threw it aside.

His weight on top of her as he kicked his trousers away, his mouth against her skin, his fingers tracing a path down her body that made her shudder. None of her rules mattered anymore. She buried her face against the curve of his shoulder, and her fingers dug into his sides, hungry and desperate as she pulled him to her.

If she could only get close enough, maybe, somehow, she could disappear into him. And then no matter who came looking, they would never find her again.