by Mary Nichols
‘’Ow can I give it you back if’n I never ’ad it?’ he stormed. ‘I ain’t stole nothin’ from you, Mrs Kate. I wouldn’t. You bin kind to me…’ And big as he was and independent as he was, he burst into tears.
Kate rushed to put her arms round him to comfort him. ‘If you say you did not take it, then I believe you. I am sorry I ever doubted you.’ She handed him her pretty lace-trimmed handkerchief. ‘Now dry your eyes and we will say no more about it.’ He sniffed and blew his nose and handed it back. ‘No, you keep it. To remind you of me and the good times we had together.’
His tears turned to smiles and he carefully folded the handkerchief and put it into his pocket. ‘Thank you, Mrs Kate. I ’opes you find your necklace soon.’
Kate sighed. ‘So do I, Michael, so do I. Now tell me about going to sea. What ship is it?’
‘A warship. I’m to be a cabin boy, not a powder monkey. Doctor Redfern found the place for me. If I study hard and do exac’ly as I’m told, I could be a real seaman one day and wear the king’s uniform.’
‘Then I wish you well, Michael.’ She held out her hand and, after a little hesitation, he took it. ‘If you feel up to writing to me, I shall be pleased to have a letter. Now, run along back to whatever you were doing.’
As soon as he had disappeared, Kate sank into the chair the boy had just vacated and put her face into her hands, trying to stop the tears that squeezed themselves through her fingers.
‘Kate.’ Simon’s voice was anguished. ‘Please do not upset yourself.’
She looked up at him standing uncertainly above her, but her vision was blurred and she could not see his expression. ‘That was a dreadful thing to do, to accuse the boy like that without a shred of evidence. Poor, poor Michael, and now I have lost his good opinion of me.’ She was searching in her pocket for her handkerchief, but she had given it to Michael.
‘No, you have not.’ He handed her his own larger piece of linen. ‘You told him you believed him and he was content with that.’
‘I did believe him. Didn’t you?’
‘Yes, he was too upset to be guilty.’
‘Oh, Simon, where is this all going to end?’ She searched his face. ‘I seem to have got myself in a dreadful coil. I am sorry I involved you…’
‘Whether you like it or not, I am involved. I have been involved ever since the day we found Joe, you know that.’ He bent down and drew her to her feet. ‘Come, we are not beaten yet. Do you feel calm enough to leave?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ She returned his handkerchief, hoisted her shawl back on her shoulders and straightened her bonnet. ‘Let us go and tell Papa the necklace has not been found.’
He escorted her out to the gig and they were about to set off when Michael came running out to them, bearing a piece of driftwood he had fashioned into a boat with a knife. It was crudely carved and the sails were made of muslin. ‘For you, Mrs Kate,’ he said.
She accepted it and would have burst into tears again if Simon had not put his hand over hers. ‘Thank you,’ she told the boy in a choked voice. ‘I shall keep this in memory of you. One day you will be an admiral and I shall be able to boast that Admiral Sandford gave it to me when he was a boy.’
He stood to attention and gave her a naval salute, as Simon set the horse on its way. They were silent for some minutes, each with their own thoughts. She was wondering how they were ever going to solve the mystery of the necklace and how she would break the news to Robert; he was wishing with all his heart that the Viscount did not exist, that she was free to accept another love. His love. He realised he had probably been in love with her ever since that first day by the Serpentine. All his promises to himself not to fall in love again had drifted away on the wind. And he, like Kate, was wondering where it would all end. He could not see a happy outcome for him, but while she needed him, he would be there.
‘Could it possibly have been taken from your neck at Hartingdon House? It was a severe squeeze as I recall and there were some odd characters that would not have attended had it not been for charity. Were you still wearing it when you arrived home?’
Kate had to think a little. She could not imagine anyone taking such a heavy item from her neck without her feeling it go. It was then she remembered. ‘Yes, I was. I remember going along to the children’s room when I arrived home to see if they were asleep, but Annie was awake. She mentioned it then.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Something about liking my blue necklace best. And I remember putting my hand up to touch it.’ She remembered something else Annie said too, about wishing she would marry Dr Redfern and not the Viscount, but she was certainly not going to tell him that.
‘Not done at the ball, then.’
‘No. When I get home, I am going to turn the house out all over again. It must be there.’
‘And if it is not?’
‘I do not know,’ she said miserably. ‘Would it do any good calling in the Watch?’
‘Without evidence, I doubt it. I think we need a little help from the underworld.’
‘Underworld?’
‘Yes, the world of the criminal. If the necklace has been stolen by a professional thief, he will want to dispose of it as quickly as possible. If we can track down the receiver, what the fraternity call a fencing cully, it might come to light.’
She was ready to grasp at any straw, though she was unconvinced. ‘Do whatever you have to, Simon, but please do not put yourself in any danger. I should hate you to be hurt; no jewel, however valuable, is worth that.’
He was considerably heartened and turned to look at her, and though his hands were on the reins, his heart seemed to have jumped out of his body and deposited itself beside hers, where he was convinced it would stay for ever. If only he could tell her so!
He took his left hand from the reins to put it over hers. She felt its strength and warmth and tried very hard not to weep again.
Kate found it difficult to sleep that night. Everything went round and round in her head, Simon’s comforting words, Michael’s touching gift, the loss of the necklace. She dreaded having to tell Robert it was missing. What would he do? What would he say? Was she asking too much of Simon who had enough to do without worrying about her problems? Supposing he went into the rookeries of the city and was set upon by thieves? If anything bad happened to him, she would want to die.
Her eyes closed eventually but she had hardly been asleep five minutes, or so it seemed to her, when she was woken by the front door-knocker. Not wanting her father or grandmother to be disturbed, she hurried into a dressing gown and went downstairs and opened the door herself.
Simon, his hair dishevelled, his cravat awry as if he had tied it in a great hurry, stood on the step with the whimpering Joe in his arms. The boy was clutching his toy lamb in one arm. The other was heavily bandaged. ‘I couldn’t think of anyone else,’ Simon said, as she opened the door wide and stood aside to admit him.
‘What happened?’ she whispered, unwilling to wake the household.
‘He got in the way when Mr and Mrs Barber had a violent row.’ This was also in a whisper. ‘Alf was drunk and started throwing things about and hitting his wife. She screamed back at him and he yelled at her and by then the whole tenement was wide awake. A neighbour, who knew I had been visiting them, came and fetched me. The poor little mite is black and blue and he has a nasty cut on his arm. I’ve bound it up, but I couldn’t leave him there, not until things have calmed down. May I leave him with you?’
‘Of course you can.’ She took the boy from his arms. ‘Oh, you poor darling. You can sleep in your old bed. It will take only a minute to make up. And Dr Redfern will make your poor arm better.’ She looked at Simon over the child’s trembling body. He looked exhausted. ‘You will come and see how he is tomorrow?’
‘Yes. I am sorry to inconvenience you.’
‘What is a little inconvenience compared to the welfare of a child? I am happy to do what I can.’
‘Bless you. Yo
u are an angel.’
‘Fustian!’ She could not detain him, not in the middle of the night, not with her in her night attire, which he seemed not to have noticed. ‘Now, go back to your own bed and leave him with me.’
‘Very well. Until tomorrow.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘I mean later today, considering it is two o’clock in the morning.’
He let himself out of the front door and shut it softly behind him. Kate heard his gig drive away as she carried Joe upstairs. The boy had stopped crying, but every now and again let out a little sob. She wanted to hold him tight, but was afraid to do so for fear of hurting him.
On the landing she met her grandmother in a dressing gown, long white hair in braids under her nightcap. ‘Did I hear the door? What have you got there?’
‘Little Joe. He’s been in an accident…’
‘But you can’t have him back, Kate. Whatever will the Viscount say?’
Kate didn’t want to think of that. She hoped that Simon would succeed in sorting something out before Robert returned and then he need never know. It struck her then as reprehensible that she was even contemplating keeping secrets from her future husband. First the missing necklace and now this. She took Joe to the room he had slept in before, sat him in a chair while she made up the bed again, then tucked him in and sat with him until he went to sleep.
Joe’s sleep did not last long; he woke because he was in pain. He could not understand why he had to submit to the bandage and did his best to rid himself of it, making the pain worse. Kate had to fight him to make him keep it on. It was a battle of wills that exhausted her and him too. At dawn, he fell asleep, giving her a brief respite, though it was too late to go back to bed.
She was enjoying a cup of chocolate with her grandmother when Simon arrived. He bowed to both ladies, accepted the offer of chocolate and her ladyship’s invitation to be seated. ‘How has Joe been?’ he asked Kate. He had to keep everything on a business level, or he would make a complete fool of himself.
‘A little difficult.’
‘That is putting it mildly,’ Lady Morland said.
‘He cannot understand the need for the bandage,’ Kate said in mitigation. ‘He thinks it is that which is causing the pain and so he keeps trying to take it off.’
‘I had better have a look at it.’
‘He has only just gone to sleep.’
‘I will try not to wake him.’
Kate led the way to the boy’s bedroom. He was clutching his toy lamb in his good arm, the other was flung out, half the bandaging undone.
Simon sat on the edge of the bed and gently replaced it without waking him, though he gave one or two sobs in his sleep. Then he looked up at Kate, to find her watching him. Their glances met and held for a second, perhaps more, and there was more in that look than concern for an injured child. This was beyond the work they did, it was personal: two people speaking to each other without words, conveying something of their inner selves, feelings that could not be expressed, must never be expressed. Simon was not even sure she was aware of it herself, but her confusion was plain and she looked away and concentrated her attention on Joe.
‘Poor little boy,’ she murmured.
‘Yes. But he will mend.’
‘And then what?’ It was said sharply, more sharply than she intended. ‘More of the same?’
‘I hope not.’
‘How did it happen in the first place? What were his parents quarrelling about?’
‘Alf Barber called in at the tavern on the way home from the docks, had several drinks and got into a card game so that the money he had earned disappeared. When he did arrive home, Mrs Barber became angry and he even angrier that she had dared to question him, and it went on from there, throwing things, pulling hair, punching. Joe’s cot was overturned and he was spilled out and that was when I arrived. Alf Barber stormed out past me and I got the story from Mrs Barber and the neighbours who had heard most of it.’
‘So, what are we to do?’
He was heartened by the use of the word ‘we’, but how could it mean anything when the Viscount would certainly put a stop to any ‘we’?
‘I will have a talk to Lady Eleanor. She might have some ideas. Can you keep him for a day or two until I make other arrangements?’
‘Of course. You do not have to ask.’
He stood up and they returned to the drawing room where he said his goodbyes to Lady Morland and the Reverend who had joined her, and Kate saw him to the door.
‘Well?’ her grandmother said, as soon as she returned to them.
‘Joe is to stay here for a day or two. You do not mind, do you, Papa?’
‘The child does not inconvenience me, Kate, but you must remember that when you are occupied on other matters, daily tasks, preparing for the wedding, looking after him devolves upon the servants.’
‘I know, but the wedding plans are well advanced, Lizzie is in her element arranging the wedding breakfast, and Joan is a great help to me here.’
But, though Joan did the cleaning and washing, she could not do anything for the child himself because, in the absence of his mother, he let it be known in bouts of temper that he would have no one but Kate to touch him. His hurt went deeper than his physical condition; he was deeply wounded inside and Kate knew only too well what that felt like.
‘He needs a good smack,’ Lady Morland said.
‘No, he has had too much violence in his life already, Grandmama,’ Kate said, picking up the pieces of a smashed plate that Joe had thrown on the floor. ‘We must be patient.’
‘It is to be hoped that Dr Redfern can do something about him urgently or I dread to think what the Viscount will say. After getting rid of the children once, to have one of them back again will not please him.’
Kate would not let that influence her. Her relationship with Robert had changed. In the face of his blackmail, she was not going to be a biddable and malleable just-out-of-the-schoolroom bride, afraid of his displeasure. If she had to marry him, and it seemed she must, then she would assert herself, stamp her own personality on the marriage and that meant taking an interest in whatever charity she chose. ‘I could not turn him away, could I?’
‘I think your papa should write to Dr Redfern. We have seen neither hide nor hair of him for two days. It is as if he has left the child with you and washed his hands of him.’
‘Oh, Grandmama, you know that is not true. Si—’ She stopped suddenly, realising that she had been about to utter the doctor’s Christian name aloud. ‘Doctor Redfern would never do such a thing. I am sure he is trying his best to find a solution.’
Simon was in the office of the Hartingdon Home, facing Lady Eleanor. She had inspected the books, the children and the home and been satisfied with what she saw, except that he had done nothing about the overcrowding. ‘You should never have let Mrs Meredith take those four,’ she said. ‘Now we’ve got them back and what we will do with them, I do not know.’
‘I realise that. But Michael Sandford is leaving today and so is Sarah Thomsett. If we could only find more foster parents, we could let some of them go; very few of the women who make a living fostering young children are suitable, as you know. Mrs Meredith is ideal, but she is to be married soon and there is a little boy with her who must be placed. I thought if we could offer some financial help to the family and they were visited frequently, he could go home.’
‘I assume you are speaking of Joseph Barber.’
‘Yes.’ He did not tell her he was already paying the rent of the Barbers’ room in Maiden Lane. It was the only way they could be got out of Seven Dials and he was determined Joe would not go back to that degrading place.
‘Giving money to that family would be pouring it down Mr Barber’s throat.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’
‘Let them get on with it. Some people just do not want helping.’
He gave up and went to visit Mr and Mrs Barber to see if he could talk some sense into them.
Alf was no
t at home, but his wife was. She invited him in and asked eagerly after Joe. ‘He is coming along nicely. The bandage will soon come off and he will be his old self.’ He looked about him. What little furniture had been there before had been broken and there was nowhere to sit but on the bed. She plumped herself down on it while he stood looking down at her.
‘When can he come home?’
‘Mrs Barber, how can we know he will be safe? Your husband…’
‘Oh, ’e’s gorn agin and I don’ want ’im back. I never oughta married ’im in the first place, but I was pregnant and I didn’t ’ave any choice. My pa made me.’
‘I agree that was not the best reason in the world to marry, but you must have been fond of your husband if you allowed him liberties in the first place. And Joe is his son.’
‘Better off without ’im, I am.’
He was inclined to agree, but on the other hand she needed what little money her husband brought in. ‘Let Mrs Meredith keep him for a little while longer. Without your husband, you need work.’
‘I could work for you.’
‘At the Hartingdon, you mean? I suppose I could find you a few hours each week cleaning at the Home.’
‘No, I didn’ mean that. I meant work for you.’
He smiled at the absurdity of the notion. ‘I do not think so, Mrs Barber. I am a bachelor and do not keep a large household.’
‘I wouldn’t need payin’. You could look after me and I’ll look after you.’
He was taken aback by the suggestion. ‘No, Mrs Barber, that will not serve.’
‘I’ll clean myself up. I know how. You won’t never need to complain.’ She jumped up and seized his arm. ‘Take me away from ’ere. You don’ know what it’s like with Alf, not knowing what ’e’s goin’ to do next. We could be so ’appy, you, me and Joey.’
It was at that point, while he was trying to free himself from Mrs Barber’s grasp, her husband returned home.
Kate and her grandmother had returned from shopping and were taking some refreshment in the drawing room when the Reverend came to join them, bringing the newspaper he had been reading. He folded it and handed it to Kate, tapping it with his finger. ‘Better read that.’