The Peculiar Garden of Harriet Hunt by Chelsea Iversen

Author:Chelsea Iversen [Iversen, Chelsea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks

Chapter Fourteen

St Katharine Docks was a swarm. Harriet clung to Amelia as a stout woman with a basket of sandwiches bumped her arm. Harriet almost cried out in pain, still tender from where Christian had grabbed her. A boy to their left stood strumming a harp that was as tall as he was. Shouts of “Which boat?” and “Try the other!” added to the wharf’s chaos. Families held hands, scrambling to gather luggage as a deckhand on the largest ship rang a bell so violently, it looked as if he might fall off his perch. The crowd surged this way and that, undulating against Harriet’s momentum no matter which way she went.

Despite the frenzy all around them, Harriet’s nerves had remained in check. She was sweating, but not as much from anxiety as from the close quarters with other bodies. It had taken them a couple of hours to get all the way down to London, and she’d been distracted the entire time, eyes glued to the streets as the omnibus bumped along. No sign of Christian, thankfully. London was a big place, and she knew the chances of seeing him were small. And yet, she couldn’t be too careful. Answers. Harriet needed answers, and she thought—no, she knew—she would find at least one answer she needed at the docks. It had been the place she and Amelia had decided proof about her father’s whereabouts could be found. As she’d swayed in her seat, not allowing herself to acknowledge stares at her scar from other bus passengers, she’d imagined the two of them arriving at the docks and leaving again with the information they needed, quick and simple. Then, all she would need to do would be to somehow alert Stokes without provoking him. That would not be easy, but she would have to worry about that later.

Now that they were here, the task seemed more daunting than she’d expected. She wanted to ask Amelia if she thought they would make it home before Christian did, but whenever she leaned in to speak, some other bell rang or porter bellowed or busker played.

Amelia did not bother to hide her excitement. She shouldered grown men out of the way, carving a path through the throngs. They ducked into the doorway of a tall round building. A man hurried out of the door, and Amelia caught it, helping Harriet through. The building was not quiet by any stretch—men still bustled about—but it was a reprieve from the busy docks, and Harriet could at least hear herself think.

Amelia caught the attention of a young man with a flat cap and a determined expression. “I beg your pardon,” she said, and Harriet was not surprised by her brisk tone.

“Yes?” said the young man as he was passing them by, sounding irritated. Harriet saw that he intended to continue with whatever task he was about to do, but when he saw Amelia, he stopped. His businesslike demeanor changed almost immediately. She was only seventeen, but she had the stature of a grown woman and the attitude of someone with twice as much life experience.

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