“I know that this is highly irregular,” Thornhollow went on, his voice pitched low.

“’Ighly irregular is me daily life, Doctor. Bein’ asked if I want to go for a stroll down to the whorehouse with a mute lassie alongside me by a man who’s supposed to be the next Jaysus Christ is flat cockamamie.”

“I’m hardly Jesus Christ,” Thornhollow said, already looking exhausted by their conversation.

“Janey says ye are,” Nell shot back. “A peculiar brand of savior, but a saint for the crazies nonetheless, she says. Ye can’t do no wrong in ’er eyes, now that Mrs. Jacobs sleeps the night through.”

“My canonization aside, you need to know that I wouldn’t ask you to expose yourself to that kind of environment without good reason.”

Nell rolled her eyes. “I’ve exposed meself to worse, as ye well know. Ye say that I may be able to ’elp catch the fellow tha’s done in Mrs. Jacobs’s daughter, then I’m in. Takin’ Grace ’ere with me makes me feel a bit odd, but if ye say tha’s the way of it, then tha’s the way of it.”

“I need Grace’s eyes and ears. Her memory is impeccable and she may see things that you miss.”

Nell shifted uncomfortably. “Aye, well, I’m a little worried about ’er seeing things tha’ per’aps she’d rather miss.”

“Grace is unflappable in any situation, Nell. Trust me on that count.”

Nell reached over and squeezed Grace’s hand. “In tha’ case, go put on yer pretty dress, lassie. We’re going to the whorehouse.”

Grace tucked her slate and chalk under one arm, lacing the other with Nell’s as they strolled casually down the hill.

“Now, don’ you be tellin’ Janey or even Lizzie, but this ’ere isn’t exactly the first time I’ve wandered off the grounds,” Nell said. “They make it nice an’ easy. No fences, or the like. If you look like ye know what yer doin’ ye can walk off fer a few hours and come back in time for dinner, none the wiser.”

Grace nodded as they turned the corner, wandering into a copse of trees that hid a footpath. Nell said it would lead down to a shallow patch in the river, and from there town was only a stone’s throw away. The girls unlaced their boots at the bank, and Grace sucked in her breath as she stepped into the cold water.

“Aye,” Nell agreed, wobbling on one leg as she pulled off her stocking. “It’s gettin’ to the time of year I won’t be makin’ me trips till she freezes over. Charlie’s family, they sends him some money once in a while. Ever’ now an’ then I sneak down here and we splits a bottle or two of somethin’ ’ere in the woods.”

Nell crossed after Grace, and they yanked their boots back on quickly, Grace’s toes curling against the cold. Grace felt the other girl’s eyes on her as they emerged from the riverbank and made their way into town.

“If I don’t remember all the questions I’m supposed to be askin’, you be sure an’ give me a nudge. The doctor, ’e’s done me a good turn or two that no one knows nothin’ about, and I doubt I’m the only one in that place who can say so.”

Grace nodded, patting her slate reassuringly as they passed a house where a mother sat in a rocking chair on the front porch, children playing at her feet. She nodded in greeting and both girls nodded back, Grace’s scars hidden under her curls.

Nell giggled into her hand. “Playing at bein’ respectable always gets a rise outta me. Though once we find our way into the whorehouse I ’spose that game is up.” Nell hesitated in her step at the next crossroads. “I don’t exactly know where we’re goin’.”

Grace walked confidently on, her memory of the first night with Dr. Thornhollow seared into her mind. The buildings around them deteriorated slightly as they moved on, their presence gaining more attention as their clothes marked them as people who didn’t belong on the wrong side of town. But the establishment they were headed to still held a front of respectability, advertising only alcohol for sale and not women as well.

Nell steered Grace down an alley once she spotted it. “Ye may know the place well enough ter find it, but I don’ think walkin’ in by the front door is the wisest thing. Ye don’ want to be mistaken for a workin’ girl. Thornhollow would have me hide.”

They approached from the back, where a couple of women wrapped in threadbare cloaks were sharing a smoke on the balcony. Nell hailed them from the side street.

“Oy, there! We was wonderin’ if we might ’ave a word?”

“With who?” one woman asked, flicking ash from her cigarette.

“Uh . . .” Nell’s voice lost some of its confidence. “We come about Mellie Jacobs.”

“Poor Mellie,” the other woman said, tugging her shawl tighter. “Didn’t no one even let us know about the funeral. So’s I don’t know a soul was there when they stuck her in the ground.”

“Don’t be wasting your pity, Sarah,” the woman with the cigarette said. “Ain’t nobody going to our funerals, neither. Feel sorry for yourself and for me. At least we’re alive to know it.”

“I’ll go t’ both yer funerals if ye spare me a damn moment,” Nell shouted up.

“There’s an offer.” Sarah cackled. “Come on up, the both of you. Birdie and me’s got some time before we go back to work.”

Nell and Grace climbed the wooden stairs, stepping carefully over one that was broken, and joined the women on the balcony. Birdie offered a puff of her cigarette to Nell, who took a drag gratefully.

“So you knew Mellie?” Sarah asked.

“Nay . . . ,” Nell said, exhaling smoke. “We know ’er mother.”

“Ah . . . so you’re from up on the hill, are you?” Birdie said, taking the cigarette back from Nell. She nodded toward Grace. “Is that why you don’t do any talking?”

“Aye, she’s crazy as a loon, that one,” Nell said.

“And what about you?” Sarah asked. “You don’t seem to have nothing wrong with you. And a pretty face like yours, you could make good money down here with us. Lots of men be willing to pay a bit extra to toss a crazy girl.”

“They’d pay with more than money,” Birdie said shrewdly, looking Nell up and down. “She’s got the pox.”

Nell’s smile froze on her face. “How’d you know?”

“It’s in the way you walked up them steps, stiff like it hurts in your joints, though you’re too young to have the arthritis. And it’s cool today, surely, but you’re buttoned up to your neck, covering every inch you can.” She flicked her cigarette again. “How far’s it spread?”

Grace watched her friend’s normal confidence fall away, replaced by a stony wall of indifference. “Far enough tha’ I don’t care to say.”

“You got one blooming, here,” Birdie said, touching the side of her own mouth.

Nell’s hand went to her face reflexively. “I don’t.”

“You do.” Birdie nodded. “I see the way you’ve got your lips clenched a bit to hide it, but there’s a lump there sure enough. It’ll be leaking before long and that’ll be the end of your face.”

Sarah smacked her friend’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Birdie. No need to scare the girl. If she’s up to the asylum, she knows about her condition, more so than the town whores.”

“Whores may not know a lot,” Birdie said, eyes still on Nell’s face. “But I know the pox. Mellie had it too, you know.”

Grace nudged Nell, anxious to tear her friend’s mind away from her own troubles. “Did she?” Nell asked, taking the cue.

“She’d just had the first sores, down here.” Birdie pointed at her crotch. “But Mrs. Teekler, if she knows one of the girls has got a spot, they’re out on the street. She makes a good business off us, and she only wants one kind of thing erupting down here on River Street.”

“If you’re sick, you’re out of a job,” Sarah agreed. “And Mellie knew it well enough to take herself to her room with a bottle when her time was up.”

“Is tha’ what happened, then?” Nell asked, enough of a question in her voice to make the other two women look at each other uneasily.

“That’s what we was told,” Sarah said. “And around here you both do as you’re told and believe what you’re told.”