The Suspect's Daughter

by Donna Hatch

“Oh, Miss Fairley, thankee—er, thank you kindly.”

  Satisfied with her seating arrangements, Jocelyn sought out the butler, Owens, to inform him she needed to borrow Katie on a personal matter and ordered a basket filled with bread, clotted cream, jam, cheese, and fruit, enough for a good-sized, hungry family. She changed into her plainest clothes and donned an unadorned straw hat. Katie waited for her in the foyer.

  Katie bobbed a curtsy. “Miss Fairley, it’s so kind of you to do this, but I fear you may not like going to such a poor part of town.”

  “I regularly visit my father’s tenants at our country estates and do what I can to help them. I’m no shrinking violet that I fear meeting your sister in her home.”

  Katie nodded and tied her limp bonnet under her chin. Though normally Jocelyn would have taken a footman to accompany them, she feared that so many strangers, including a man, would intimidate Katie’s sister. They hailed a hansom to take them to a part of town near the riverfront.

  Inside the cab, Jocelyn readjusted the basket in her arms, firmly tucking the cloth around the contents. “Tell me more about your sister. How long has she struggled with the melancholy?”

  “She’s had a few bad spells in the past, but never this long or this bad.”

  “Did something happen to trigger this last bout?”

  “Yes, miss. Her husband…died…seven weeks ago, just before her last baby was born. She’s been in a bad way ever since, but this last week, she won’t get out of bed.”

  Jocelyn’s eyes misted. “Oh, poor thing. She’s in mourning, and she probably has the kind of malady that often follows childbirth. No wonder she’s been despondent.”

  “After her husband’s death, she took in additional laundry to help feed the li’l ’uns—little ones—but now she’s too bad off to keep up with it.”

  The cab stopped and Jocelyn paid the jarvey. He paused. “Do you want me to wait for you, miss?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. I will be well over half an hour, I suspect.”

  Still, he paused. “Shall I return for you in half an hour’s time?”

  Jocelyn considered. Finding a cab in such a poor part of town could be difficult, and she daren’t risk being late to Lady Everett’s tea appointment. “That’s probably a wise course of action. Yes, please do return for me here. But give me an hour, just in case.”

  He nodded. “As you wish. One hour.”

  Leaving the hansom on a main road, Jocelyn and Katie followed twisted alleys between sagging buildings. Jocelyn pressed a perfumed handkerchief to her nose to help filter the stench of refuse swept into piles and left to molder. She gripped her basket, hoping she’d brought the right items to help the family.

  Katie led her to a battered door, tapped on the rotting wood, and pushed it open. “Lucy? I’m here with my mistress.”

  Jocelyn followed Katie into the semi-darkness. At the doorway, Jocelyn halted to let her eyes adjust to the gloom. A baby fussed and a child’s voice crooned off key. One thin blanket covered the only window, cutting out most of the sunlight but very little of the chill. Clothing hung over several ropes strung across one end of the small room. Piles of clothes lay in a heap next to a peeling wooden washtub. Jocelyn’s courage faltered at the stark poverty.

  “Katie!” A girl about three years old pattered barefoot to Katie and threw her arms around the maid. The child’s ragged, faded frock exposed too much of her thin limbs.

  Katie hugged the child before setting her on her feet. “Mary, curtsy to Miss Fairley.”

  Mary immediately shrank against Katie’s skirts and stuck a thumb into her mouth as she stared warily at Jocelyn.

  Jocelyn sank down on her haunches to get eye level with the little girl. Rallying her courage, she smiled and said in a soft voice, “Good afternoon, Miss Mary.”

  Mary only blinked at Jocelyn without taking her thumb out of her mouth.

  Katie touched Mary’s head. “I brought Miss Fairley to meet your momma.”

  The baby fussed again, and again crooned a child’s voice. Jocelyn followed the sounds to the corner where a girl about five years of age sat on the edge of the pallet on the floor. As she crooned, she bounced a baby wearing only a dingy nappy who slurped on its fist. Behind the girl and baby, a woman lay as if asleep, her arm over her face.

  Still encumbered with little Mary holding onto her legs, Katie sat on the pallet. As she picked up the baby, his nappy slid down. The baby nestled against Katie’s breast and then let out a lusty cry. While the baby wailed, Katie laid the baby on the pallet and efficiently tied the nappy into place.

  Jocelyn wanted to burst into tears at the dirt on his skin. “What a beautiful baby,” she cooed when she could say it believably.

  Katie nudged the woman in the makeshift bed and said loudly enough to be heard over the baby’s cries, “Lucy? When did you last feed the baby?”

  The woman moaned without raising her arm. “I can’t feed ’im anymore. My milk dried up. I tried all morning but there’s nothin’ to give ’im.”

  Standing, Katie turned to the older child who’d been holding the baby. “Flora, fetch Nan. Tell her to come quick. We need her to nurse Johnny.”

  The child nodded and dashed outside.

  Jocelyn had spent enough time with her Aunt Ruby, who was as knowledgeable as a village midwife and apothecary, to know herbs that could help, if administered in time. Though daughters of gentlemen of means and property didn’t normally delve too deeply in the healing arts, Grandmother had come from a long line of healers and midwives. Following family tradition, Aunt Ruby’s passion followed after her mother’s, and she was a sought after favorite at her father’s estate before she married and moved to Kent.

  Jocelyn gleaned all she could from her beloved aunt, although possessed a fraction of her skill. Whether or not Jocelyn knew enough, or could act soon enough, remained to be seen. She’d have to take command if she were to help this family in need. Jocelyn set down the basket, and removed her hat.

  “Who’s wit’ ye?” asked the woman from the bed. She had to shout to be heard over the baby’s screams.

  “This is my mistress, Miss Fairley,” Katie said. “She wanted to meet you and the little ones.”

  “We ain’t much t’ look at.” The woman put her arm back over her face.

  Jocelyn pressed her hands together and rested the tips of her fingers under her chin. “We need an apothecary. Is there one in the neighborhood?”

  Katie replied, “There’s one several blocks over.”

  Jocelyn did a mental count of the money she carried in her reticule. “Do you know an older child who can be trusted to bring some medicine?”

  Katie furrowed her brow and chewed on her lip. “I’ll get the boy next door.” She carried the wailing baby outside. A moment later, she returned with a boy about ten years of age with a mop of curls. He stared at Jocelyn with earnest brown eyes.

  Jocelyn crouched down to speak to the lad. “I need you to go the nearest apothecary and bring back fenugreek. Can you remember? Fenugreek.”

  He nodded. “Fenugreek.”

  “Come back without delay.” Jocelyn handed him several coins.

  Katie gasped.

  “Yes’m.” The boy dashed off with a white-knuckled grip on the money.

  “Oh, miss.” Her eyes grew shiny. “I didn’t mean for you to pay…”

  “Consider it an extra vail in appreciation for your devoted service to our family.”

  Katie bowed her head, still bouncing the squalling child. Jocelyn removed the cloth tucked over the top of the basket and spread it out over the rough, dirty table. It rocked back and forth on rickety legs as she removed food and sliced bread, sending a silent thank you to the chef who packed a knife.

  Mary overcame her shyness enough to wander to the table and rose up on tiptoe to see what Jocelyn was doing. Jocelyn spread clotted cream and jam on a thick slice of bread. She handed the bread to Mary. Solemnly, the child took it and immediately stuffed so much of it into
her mouth that she could barely chew.

  Jocelyn smiled when her heart threatened to break. How long had that child been hungry? All of her life? Since her father died, which added to the tragedy of losing him? “Slow down, Miss Mary. There’s plenty.”

  If only she’d thought to bring milk for the children and tea for the adults. Katie had been right when she predicted Jocelyn would be unprepared for her sister’s poverty. None of the tenants on her father’s estates were so destitute. When Jocelyn returned on the morrow, she’d bring more of what this family needed.

  On a badly chipped plate, she put a slice of bread, cheese and half an apple. Bearing the plate, she approached the bed. “Lucy, I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you something to eat.”

  Lucy removed her arm off her face, and leveled an expressionless stare on Jocelyn. “Don’t wan’ yer charity. Don’t matter, no how. We’ll all be dead soon.”

  Jocelyn drew nearer. “If you give up and die, who will look after your little ones?”

  “No one. They’ll all starve, too. Can’t feed m’ baby. Can’t feed m’ li’l ’uns.”

  “No one is going to starve,” Katie interjected hotly over the baby’s cries, fixing a fierce stare on her sister. “I’ll make sure of that.”

  Jocelyn wanted to hug her. A little pang that she’d never had a sister of her own touched her heart.

  Lucy frowned at Katie. “Ye can’t keep givin’ me all yer wages and doin’ your own job and takin’ in the laundry fer me, too.”

  “I can and I will for as long as it takes.” Katie stuck out her chin. “But you have to get outta bed and do something for yourself and for them.”

  “Moa,” Mary said from the table. She stood on tiptoe, vainly trying to reach the bread.

  After leaving the plate on the pallet next to Lucy, Jocelyn and said firmly, “Eat.”

  Jocelyn went to little Mary and handed her the other half of apple. While Mary stuffed it into her mouth and chewed, Jocelyn scooted a stool to the table, picked up Mary, and seated her on the chair. Absorbed in food, the child offered no resistance to being manhandled by a stranger. Jocelyn spread more clotted cream and jam on another piece of bread and set it with cheese on the make shift table cloth in front of Mary.

  The older child, Flora, returned with a young woman. Katie conversed with the woman, who immediately sat on the edge of the bed and put the baby to her breast. Seconds later, only the infant’s noisy gulping broke the silence.

  Jocelyn beckoned to the older child. “Come Flora. Here’s cheese and bread with clotted cream and jam, and apples.” She held out a second plate she’d filled.

  Flora cast a cautious glance at Katie, her mouth working and her thin body wavering between accepting and fleeing.

  Katie nodded at the child. “You can trust Miss Fairley, Flora. She’s my lady.”

  Flora accepted the plate and tucked into the meal. Katie cleared her throat and glanced meaningfully at Jocelyn.

  Around her food, Flora mumbled something that resembled, “Thank you.”

  Katie came to the table, drawing up a second stool and gesturing to Jocelyn. “Won’t you please sit, miss?” She waited until after Jocelyn sat before she picked up little Mary, sat in her chair, and plopped her down on her lap.

  Jocelyn searched through possible solutions to help the family locked in poverty and despair. Bringing them a basket of food—even if she did it daily—would do little to relieve them of their current circumstances and would only help them temporarily. Jocelyn nibbled as little as possible, encouraging the others to eat their fill, and tried to make conversation.

  “Have you lived all your life in London?” Jocelyn ventured to ask Katie.

  “Yes, miss. Never left. But I always wanted to see the country.”

  That was easily remedied. She could speak to Owens about putting Katie on the servants crew who followed her family from their country estate to their city home each Season. Since many servants preferred not to travel with the families they served, adding Katie to those who traveled should be easy. She made a note to ask Katie about that later to be sure she really wanted to do so.

  Lucy sat up and hugged her knees. “I saw the country once. Me John took me ou’ there once t’ meet ’is grandfather. ’e was a gamekeeper on a fine estate, ’e was. I never saw so many green growin’ things in all my livin’ life.” Her eyes took on a faraway wistfulness that transformed her face into one approaching beauty. “’e was a good man, ’e was. Jes’ tryin’ t’ feed the li’l ’uns.” She buried her face in her hands as her shoulders shook in silent sobs.

  Katie hugged little Mary and said nothing.

  Jocelyn looked from Katie to Lucy’s lowered head as tension fell heavily in the air. Almost afraid to know, she asked gently, “What happened to him, Lucy?”

  “They ’anged ’im, they did. ’anged! Like a common criminal. John was a good man, ’e was. Looking for ’onest labor.” The rest of her words garbled and disintegrated into sobs.

  Katie spoke as if from a great distance away. “He was accused of stealing.” With a laden sigh, she kissed the top of Mary’s head and replaced her on the stool. Quietly, Katie pulled clothes from the lines and folded them neatly.

  No wonder Katie was so concerned about her sister, a widow with small children, having suffered such tragedy. Jocelyn bowed her head as her heart ached. The seed of an idea formed in her head of how to help the family, but it was so underdeveloped that she would have to give it further thought before she gave voice to it.

  Little Mary slid off the stool, crawled in bed next to her mother, and sucked on her thumb.

  The door burst open and the boy she’d sent to the apothecary returned. “They didn’t ’ave fenugreek, but ’e said fennel and red raspberry leaves would work jes’ as well.” He held out a carefully wrapped paper tied with string.

  “He’s right.” Jocelyn inspected the fennel seeds and raspberry leaves. “You did very well, thank you.”

  He solemnly held out the change from the purchases. Jocelyn took his offering, but in their place, she pressed half a crown. He let out a strangled gasp.

  “Oi, miss,” he breathed. “Do ya mean it?”

  “Yes, I do. I’m very pleased with your speed and your honesty. You’re a bright boy.”

  His eyes shone in mingled disbelief and pleasure, cradling the coin as if she’d given him a priceless gift.

  Jocelyn turned her mind to helping restore Lucy’s milk supply. “I need to make some tea. Where is the…?” She’d been about to stay stove but stopped herself. This family couldn’t possibly own such a fine commodity. “Fireplace?”

  Katie shook her head. “Nothing that fancy here, miss.”

  “How can I heat water to make tea?”

  Katie frowned. “We don’t drink tea.”

  No, of course not. When they didn’t have to means to provide bread for the children, how could they possibly hope to afford something as expensive as tea?

  Flora spoke up, “The Smiths down the way ’ave a ’earth.”

  Katie shook her head. “A hearth, yes, but they wouldn’t be able to spare the coal, and we have none to give them to burn for our fire.”

  As Jocelyn opened her mouth to offer to buy coal, Flora shrugged. “I’ll go mudlarking an’ see if I kin find some on th’ banks.”

  “Wet coal won’t burn,” Jocelyn protested, aghast at the idea of a child scavenging the filthy Thames for coal.

  “No, it won’t,” Katie said, “but maybe we can trade it to someone for some dry coal.”

  Flora let out a contented sigh, rubbed her tummy, and heaved herself out of her seat as if she were an aged woman. “Me tummy feels good.” She offered Jocelyn a shy smile. “I’ll get th’ coal.”

  Katie stood and picked up two bundles of clothing. “I’ll go with you, and make these deliveries. Excuse me, miss?”

  “Of course,” Jocelyn said.

  Katie and Flora left together. Jocelyn turned back to little Mary who lay next to her moth
er blinking as if she could hardly keep her eyes open. Lucy sat stroking her child’s hair and munching on bread and cheese. All that remained of the apple was the core.

  Jocelyn smiled at the sight. With proper nourishment, and the right herbs in time, Lucy might produce milk for her baby. If not, Jocelyn would see about hiring a wet nurse.

  The girl who’d nursed the baby stood and handed him to his mother. A calmer Lucy took him and rubbed his fuzzy head. The baby nuzzled against her, his mouth making little sucking motions in sleep.

  Jocelyn turned to the temporary wet nurse and pressed all the rest of her coins into her hand, leaving nothing with which to pay for her return trip home. If the driver would agree to wait outside her house, she could go inside, get some more money, and pay him then. Or she could walk.

  As the young woman gaped at the bounty in her hands, Jocelyn asked, “Will you come back again in a few hours?”

  The girl agreed. When she left, Jocelyn crouched next to Lucy’s bed. “Go ahead and let him suckle you even if he isn’t truly hungry. It might help your milk return.”

  “As you wish.” Her tone resigned, Lucy did as Jocelyn directed.

  There was much to do here. Jocelyn rolled up her sleeves and cleaned the room within an inch of its life.

  Katie returned and stood open mouthed. “Oi, miss. You’ve been busy.”

  Jocelyn smiled, tired but content. “I don’t hire you to clean the parlor because I’m helpless.”

  Katie smiled with the kind of indulgence one might give a defiant child. “No, miss. Here.” She held out a battered tin cup filled with steaming water.

  Jocelyn crumbled in the herbs to make a strong tea. A few minutes later, she handed it to Lucy and made sure she drank it, as well as made arrangements to ensure that Lucy would have several cups a day.

  Aware of the passage of time, and satisfied she’d done all she could for now, Jocelyn took up her hat and pelisse. “I should return home. Papa and I have an appointment.”

  “Yes, miss.” Katie also donned a bonnet and a pelisse, a style of at least five years ago but of high quality.

  Jocelyn knelt by Lucy. “I’m so happy to have met you, Lucy. Thank you for allowing me to visit.”