LITMIR.BIZ

      Damn, that woman had a way of disappearing and this time she’d disappeared with his good coat in tow. He had others, but that one was his favorite. The coat! Deuce take it, the three hundred pounds were still in the breast pocket. That made three things he’d lost to The Cat tonight: his coat, his money and his ring. Arguably, by agreeing to her counter-offer, he’d lost a fourth—his sanity.

      The evening had taken an unbelievable twist. He’d gone from the security of retrieving his ring to the insecurity of a dubious trip to Manchester with The Cat. By nature, he didn’t like cat-and-mouse games, especially when he was the mouse, and he was definitely the mouse here. The Cat had him dangling.

      To be honest, not all of him minded. Not because she’d been alluring in that gown she’d worn or because she flirted audaciously, but because she challenged him with her wit, her insights and sense of daring. He had no doubt that tomorrow would be full of such tests as well and not all of them would be hers. His would not be the only measure taken.

      Chapter Six

      Morning arrived stark and cold. Standing on the wood planks of the bedroom floor in her nightshift, Nora drew back the curtains to view the dreary day spreading before her.

      Christmas morning ought to look different. It ought to look special. It didn’t. It looked like every other morning in the long English winter. Bare trees raised dark silhouettes to the grey sky. Everywhere she looked, the earth was devoid of colour beneath the frost. The heart of winter carried with it a sense of desperation.

      The empty landscape made it difficult to believe spring would come again. Nora could well understand why chieftains of old had contrived great Christmastide festivities for their people. Conceivably, they’d been as anxious as she to drive the cold winter away and create a splash of colour in otherwise colourless lives, if only for a moment.

      Even the austerity of her bedroom mirrored the colourless winter. The room was ascetic and clean, fitted only with the most rudimentary of furnishings: an iron bedstead, washstand and wardrobe. By necessity, her lifestyle required an existence as bland and colourless as the landscape outside. The Cat’s successes depended on remaining aloof. She had to be able to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice. She couldn’t do that if she formed attachments.

      Her personal road through life was a lonely one. By choice, she spent her life gathering what hope there was in the world and giving it to others. She saved no hope for herself.

      That was the purpose of her trip into Manchester today; to give hope to others, a break from the tedium of their lives as they struggled to survive in a world gone grey. And because she couldn’t bear the thought of donning the façade of Eleanor Habersham and frittering away the day sitting in front of the Squire’s fire with knitting needles, watching young people play silly parlour games.

      Nora rummaged through the wardrobe, nimble fingers finding the catch that revealed the hidden chamber in back. She drew out a heavy cloak she kept for just such occasions. The Cat was well received in the slums, but she still needed to be agile and alert in case of trouble. She could not afford to be numb or sluggish from the cold.

      And it would be cold. That was a guarantee. She’d told Stockport not to bring his coach. It would attract too much attention and make people suspicious. The ride to Manchester would be a frozen one carried out on the moderately sheltered bench of her closed wagon, loaded with baskets and gifts for those who had nothing.

      She dressed quickly and went down to the warm kitchen for a sweet roll and hot tea. She let Hattie fuss over her and wished them Happy Christmas. They’d have their own celebration tonight when she returned. Alfred, Hattie’s husband and, superficially, Eleanor’s man-of-all-work, had already gone out to hitch up the wagon and load its cargo. They both walked Nora out to the yard.

      Alfred volunteered to come with her and Hattie urged her to stay home altogether after feeling the bite of the wind. But Nora would not, could not, be swayed from her mission. She seated herself on the bench of her plain wagon with its wooden sideboards and clucked to the horse.