by Quinn, Paula
Lydia’s observation may have been inept but it was astute – there was little to see at the Park Lane end of Rotten Row, the hour and the Season being too early. So, the party headed northward along the stately boulevard of trees that ran parallel to Park Lane toward the old Tyburn Road.
“Did you know that just across the road from the park was where the Tyburn gallows were?” said Aunt Harriet. “It used to be quite the spectacle to gather and watch the condemned man make his final speech.”
“And there appears to be some kind of to-do up ahead on the corner today,” Lydia noted.
Julian heard the sound of singing before he could make out the words. As they drew nearer, he spotted the singers, a rather ragtag group wearing working men’s clothes. Now he could hear the carol clearly.
God rest you merry, Gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
For Jesus Christ our Savior
Was born upon this Day.
To save poor souls from Satan’s power,
Which long time had gone astray.
Which brings tidings of comfort and joy.
A crowd had gathered to listen. Lady Abigail urged the party closer together, warning the ladies that cutpurses favored those distracted by entertainments.
Others, including one tall, older man dressed in priest’s vestments, were handing out pamphlets. Julian found one pressed into his hand.
Call on Parliament now
To Enact reforms to end
Child Labor
Open your hearts
Open your minds
Save children from Exploitation!
He turned it over. On the reverse was a reprint from this morning’s article in The Argus. The Nightingale’s by-line was prominent.
He looked up once more and spotted her – the woman from last night.
She was several yards away but there was no mistaking her. There was something about a close brush with death which sharpened the faculties.
Today, however, she wore clothing more in keeping with the elevated station he’d suspected she owned. Her attire was well-made but not ostentatious, a maroon-colored pelisse over a forest green dress. A matching hat framed her face, and her fair complexion served as a canvas to finely drawn features.
Muttering his excuses, Julian disengaged himself from his party and headed in her direction.
If there was any doubt about her identity, it was vanquished when a young boy abandoned a group of his friends and ran back to this woman. It was the child he’d rescued last night
The choir continued to sing.
How did he feel about seeing the woman again? Julian wasn’t sure. Was he angry at her? In an odd way, he supposed he was. While she had apologized at the time, he couldn’t help a measure of annoyance at her disappearance. Was it merely the result of a satisfaction denied him to remonstrate against her carelessness and inattention?
Or was there something more?
At first, she did not see him approach, but as the choir reached the chorus, she turned his way.
Recognition was instant. Julian waited for the woman to pretend the acknowledgement was an error, but she did not. She rested a hand on the child’s head and waited for him to join her.
“Lucas,” she said softly, attracting the child’s attention. “Remember the gentleman who saved you last night? I think it would be right for you to thank him properly.”
Large blue eyes in a chubby face looked up at him directly. All of a sudden, Julian felt as large and as gormless as Gulliver among the Lilliputians.
“Thank you, sir.”
Lucas ended his words of gratitude with a swift bow from the waist.
Julian dropped down onto his haunches. Even then, he was still taller than the child. He was also mindful of the lad’s protector above him.
“You’re welcome, young man, but you must have a care when you walk. Do you know what gentlemen do?”
Lucas glanced up at his mother, then back to him, and shook his head.
“They walk between the lady and the road to make sure she is safe. Will you do that when you are grown? You can practice with your maman here and stay by her side as you walk.”
The boy squared his small shoulders and gave one quick, affirmative nod. It was remarkable how little instruction and encouragement was needed to give him confidence. How he wished his own father had spoken to him that way. Perhaps…
Well, it didn’t matter about perhaps, it was what it was, and there was nothing more he could do on that score.
“I trust you are not seriously hurt?” the woman asked. “It was poor form of me to leave like that. My only excuse is I was frightened and Lucas was upset, and…”
Julian got to his feet and found himself looking directly into the warm, brown eyes of the mysterious female whose name he still did not know.
“No apologies are necessary, Madam, and there is no lasting harm done,” he said.
“Thank you, I–”
“Lady Lavene?”
Was he mistaken that they both started at the sound of Lady Abigail’s voice?
“Why, it’s been an age since we’ve seen you,” she continued.
Lady Lavene dropped a curtsy. “Lady Abigail, it is an honor to renew your acquaintance after so long.”
“Yes, it is. And I see you already know a friend of the family.”
“Only informally, I… that is, we’ve not been introduced.”
Lady Abigail waved a hand, forestalling any further explanations. She looked at Julian then back to the woman.
“Caroline, Lady Lavene, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Julian Winter. He is a friend and business partner of my goddaughter’s husband, the Viscount of Carmarthan.”
Chapter Five
Lady Abigail continued the introductions. “These are Mr. Winter’s relations. Mrs. Erskin, her daughter Margaret, and her friend, Lydia Stonely. The young Misses are here to enjoy the winter Season.”
Oh, that’s who the girl was…
Miss Stonely seemed much younger today than she appeared last night at the coaching inn. The way she rushed over to Winter was proprietorial in manner. Now in the broad light of day, she could see the way he seemed to avoid being close to her, and yet he was mindful of the girl’s presence.
Lucas was becoming restless. “May I play with the other boys, Mama?” he asked.
“Yes, as long as you stay within sight of me and Father Camp.”
With permission given, Lucas took off in the direction of a group of children who had gathered near the choir and had turned some of the pamphlets into paper darts. They were making a competition of who could throw one the farthest.
“Is Lord Lavene with you today, my lady?”
Margaret Erskin’s question startled her. Caroline nearly looked about as though she might see Tristan in the crowd. It was a foolish notion.
“I’m afraid my husband passed away five years ago.”
Mrs. Erskin looked over at Lucas. “And it is just you and your son?”
The question was phrased carefully enough, with just the right amount of lightness and inflection to make it sound innocent. Caroline hadn’t remained so out of touch as to not know the second question that lurked in it.
Lucas was a typical boy of his age. That age, as near as she could discern it, was no older than four. Mrs. Erskin seemed to know that, too.
“Yes, it is just the two of us.”
“Have you made plans for Christmas?” Lady Abigail inquired.
Caroline glanced over at Reverend Camp who, with the denizens of St. Luke’s Mission, were handing out the last of the pamphlets while Mrs. Camp directed the rest of the ragtag choir in another carol.
“I’m afraid I haven’t the—”
“Then I insist you join us at least once. It’s been too long since we’ve had the pleasure of your company, and there are some new and interesting people I think you ought to meet.”
Before Caroline knew it, she found herself beginning to nod in agreement. How od
d it was that no one could actually say “no” to Lady Abigail Ridgeway…
Perhaps it would be no bad thing to re-enter society; her time of mourning was long past and reclaiming her position would mean she could speak to those who had influence in the House of Commons and House of Lords. Among them, she could make a great difference to the plight of the poor. And her position could only benefit Lucas as he grew older.
In the end, it was easy to justify to herself a decision she was coerced into making. If only she could ignore the traitorous little voice that whispered also how nice it might be to spend more time in the company of Julian Winter.
“Then I gladly await an invitation,” she said. The look of pleasure on Julian’s face made her surer of herself than she had felt in years.
“And I look forward to running into you again – but under much more pleasant circumstances than out first meeting,” he said.
Was he flirting with her? A twinkle in his gray eyes seemed to suggest so. She felt a frisson of pleasure she had not experienced since the days of courting with Tristan. An unbidden blush grew on her cheeks.
Julian and his party took their leave of her and she watched them cross over to Park Lane and climb into the carriage that waited for them. The last of the afternoon light was fading away and so, too, had their audience. The final verse of Hark the Herald Angels Sing came to an end and Mrs. Camp’s makeshift choir started to disperse.
Caroline called Lucas to join her. The boy scampered up to her with at least three variations of paper darts and they made her way over to Reverend Camp.
“That was a splendid afternoon, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Well, we certainly distributed all of the pamphlets and I don’t see too many of them discarded.” She glanced down at Lucas then sheepishly back up at the reverend. “A few turned into playthings, yes. In any case, hopefully, we have done some good.”
“I’m sure once people have read The Nightingale’s next article, today’s effort will not return void.”
“About The Nightingale…” Caroline hesitated. “I chose to use a pseudonym deliberately. I think it would be best if no one beyond you, Mrs. Camp, and the editor of The Argus knows I am the author.”
“Your secret is safe with me, my dear. Now tell me, who were those fine people you were talking to a little while ago?”
Caroline gave the priest a full explanation of the events of the previous night and how Lucas’ rescuer was also acquainted with a mutual friend.
“Does that mean we’ll see less of you at St. Luke’s?” he asked.
“I don’t see why it should. Nothing has changed as far as I’m concerned.”
There was a peculiar look in the old cleric’s eyes, but he said nothing.
She lifted her chin, daring him to doubt her. “I shall see you tomorrow night at the Mission, as per usual.”
The priest nodded. “There can be no doubt you will do good, wherever it might be.”
Caroline frowned. This was not a satisfactory end to things. While she did, indeed, intend to return to society, that didn’t halt her responsibilities to the people at the Mission. Why did he think…
She felt a tug at her hip.
“Mama, I’m tired. I want to go home.”
She smiled down and took his hand.
“Then let’s go home and see what Mrs. Stewart has prepared for our supper, shall we?”
After the third article was published, the entire city was talking about The Nightingale. Sales of The Argus had gone through the roof. Caroline knew this because the publisher had sent her a large bouquet of hothouse flowers to thank her for the increase in circulation.
As she walked down the street with Lucas to order him some new shoes, it seemed every second person had a copy of the newspaper in their hands or under their arms.
After their errand, she visited a tearoom and ordered a cup of tea for herself and a warm cup of milk for Lucas. As they sat there, she overheard two gentlemen discussing the story of a young matchgirl found frozen to death last winter, her body laid to rest in a pauper’s grave as no one came to claim her.
Only then did Caroline feel trepidation about what she had done. It was all too easy to get a rush of blood to the head, dash out the words and cast them out onto the world. As hopeful as she had been that people might feel the same dismay she felt on first hearing these stories, she had no expectation about how they would be received.
Was it possible she could she do more harm than good?
Their journey home would see them cross the corner of Hyde Park. There, not far from where the old Tyburn gallows had been, a large man stood on a box, shouting at a group of people. On a large board next to him was pinned a newspaper spread.
She didn’t need to venture any closer to know which newspaper it was and what page was pinned there. The man yelled out with a thick Scottish burr.
“Then shall they also answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when saw we thee ahungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?’. Then shall He answer them, saying, ‘Verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me’.”
The man was beginning to draw a crowd and not everyone appreciated his sermon. Hecklers jostled those who had gathered simply to listen. Some of them had taken to yelling to drown the man out.
Caroline turned Lucas away from the spectacle and directed him towards Grosvenor Square. A barouche moved past them; the canvas head dropped on both sides to give the passengers the best of the day’s sunshine.
The conveyance slowed.
“Lady Lavene!” Margaret Erskin waved enthusiastically. “What a treat to see you again. I never thought we should so soon.”
Caroline approached and found Miss Margaret beside her mother with Miss Stonely opposite beside Julian Winter.
“It is a most pleasant surprise, indeed,” she agreed. “It is certainly a fine day for a ride. We elected to walk today. It’s been quite fortunate this winter has been exceedingly mild.”
“Are you off anywhere in particular, Lady Lavene?”
Oh, she wished Julian hadn’t spoken. There was something about his voice that resonated within her, like a harp string vibrating in perfect pitch.
“Only home, Mr. Winter. Lucas here has nearly outgrown his shoes so we have ordered new ones, isn’t that right, Lucas?”
The boy nodded distractedly, more interested in the matched pair of chestnut horses than the conversation of adults.
“If you are in no hurry, might we take you home by way of Hyde Park?”
If Caroline had been on her own, she might have found a way to refuse. But the unalloyed excitement on Lucas’ face at the offer gave her pause.
“But Julian,” Miss Stonely complained, “we are four already. There aren’t enough seats for two more.”
Caroline felt a brief moment of gratitude, tempered by Lucas’ look of crushing disappointment.
Then she made the mistake of looking directly at Julian. Did she show a moment’s hesitation? She must have done so because there was a softening in the man’s eyes.
“That’s a problem which can be quickly overcome if Lady Lavene wishes it. Lucas can sit on my lap and he’ll get a better view of the park.”
She felt a tug on her hand. “Pleeeease.”
Her son’s blue eyes were large, his plea hard to ignore. When she looked up at Julian, there was a similar look in his eyes. This was not an offhand invitation, hastily made and easily disposed of. The man actually meant it.
Many people had shown kindness to her over the years and yet, somehow, Julian’s regard seemed different. Perhaps it was because he was also close to her in age, eligible and, without question, very handsome.
At her nod, Julian smiled. Lucas jumped up and down on the spot and waited impatiently for the footman to open the door. The child clambered in. Julian reached over him to offer Caroline his hand. She squeezed herself in beside Mrs. Erskin, opposite Julian.
Lucas settled himself on Julian’s lap, facing out of the carriage in rapt attention at being up so much higher than anyone else in the street. Caroline threaded her gloved fingers together to stop herself reaching forward and fussing over him.
As the barouche lurched into motion, she noticed Julian rest his arm along the sill of the carriage, there to catch the boy should be become overenthusiastic as they moved along. His protectiveness of the child warmed her.
And he was watching her again—not Lucas, but Julian. The last time a man looked at her like that was—
No.
She had no business thinking of handsome men. She turned her head away, looking out onto the passing streets of London.
Her eyes fell on a young girl wrapped up in a dark shawl standing on a corner selling flowers, a man hunched over with the weight of a large wicker basket on his back, hurrying past. On Hyde Park corner, a man with a hurdy-gurdy cranked out a tune while his companion made a marionette dance in time.
Now was not the time to indulge in a flight of fancy. This man was not for her – not judging by the sour look Miss Stonely gave her. Besides, she had more than herself to consider.
There was Lucas for one, and the folks at St. Luke’s Mission for another. There was so much to do, so much of the world that needed to be set to rights.
How could she possibly entertain the idea of a romance?
She’d had her turn until death did they part. Except she never expected it to be so soon…
Chapter Six
Julian didn’t know how it happened, but somehow on that carriage ride through the streets of London, he’d been gifted with sight through another’s eyes – Caroline’s eyes.
A city with which he was somewhat familiar, he now saw anew – the coalmen laboring under their load; the street urchins searching the gutters for lost buttons and coins; the particular walk of a lightskirt who would sell her body for a few coins to purchase food and a bed for the night.
Then the carriage turned onto Rotten Row and he became conscious of the quietness of the park, the rustling of the leaves overhead, the particular smell in the air that presaged rain.
