David

by Grace Burrowes

  “But you’re not my papa,” Danny said in a miserable whisper.

  David spoke very quietly, knowing the exact contour of a boy’s torment when his paternity was in doubt. “Who is your papa?”

  Danny shook his head and buried his nose against David’s thigh. David scooped the child into his lap and felt the boy start to cry, felt the heat welling up from the small body, felt the tension, misery, and bewilderment overcoming the child’s fragile dignity. He wrapped his arms around Danny and prayed—honestly and sincerely prayed—for fortitude.

  “Might I ask a favor of you, Master Banks?”

  “What favor?” The child’s tone suggested important viscounts shouldn’t need favors from anybody.

  “I know a young lady whose name is Rose, and she loves ponies. I was wondering if you’d try some of these ponies out and let me know if there are any you think she might like.”

  “I get to ride them?” Danny asked, head coming up.

  “You can’t ride all of them, or your papa will wonder where we are.” The cloud passed across Danny features again, but his attention was on the ponies lined up down the aisle.

  “Select three.” David put the child down, though Rose had already chosen her steed—a gift from old Moreland, no less—and nobody and nothing would part her from Sir George.

  An hour later, David had made his decision—decisions, rather—and he and Danny were on their way back to Letty’s house, Danny up before him on his gray mare.

  “She’s bigger than Zubbie, even,” Danny marveled. “What’s her name?”

  “Honey,” David said, patting the mare on the neck. “And she has to be big, because I’m big.”

  “You’re as big as my pa—” Danny’s face fell and he went silent.

  David spoke close the child’s ear. “I don’t know what your secrets are, because you haven’t said one word to me about them. But I do know Vicar Daniel loves you, and loves you and loves you. He would never toss you on the rubbish heap, and he would be exceedingly angry at anyone who did. You should tell him your secrets and let him help with this other person who is threatening such mean things.”

  “But he’s not…” Danny fell silent again, a child struggling to explain the simplest logic to a thickheaded adult.

  “Even if he isn’t,” David said firmly, “he is your vicar, and vicars protect the innocent and weak, like the sick people and the old people, and little boys who are being threatened. He loves you, and you can tell him. If you want me to, I’ll come with you.”

  Danny twisted around in the saddle to peer at David.

  “What if he gets mad?” Danny asked in a small voice. “She said he’d get mad, and then…”

  “Then he’d throw you on the rubbish heap? My God, the nightmares you must have.”

  But Danny had nodded and was looking to David for further reassurances.

  “I will keep you safe, lad,” he said, tightening the arm he had around the child’s waist for emphasis. “No matter what, I will keep you safe. It’s what viscounts do.”

  It’s what this viscount would do, and devil take the hindmost. Danny faced forward again and seemed lost in thought. As they turned onto Letty’s street, Danny whipped around and speared David with a look.

  “You’ll come with me?”

  “I shall.” David swung off, tossed the reins to the groom who had accompanied them to Tatt’s, and lifted the child from the saddle to his hip. “Do you want to tell him now?”

  “Will Aunt Letty be there?”

  “Do you want her to be there?”

  “Aunt Letty is nice,” Danny said. “She loves me, and she’s my… he’s her brother.” Complicated business, indeed, from a small child’s perspective.

  “So why don’t we ask Aunt Letty to join us?” David suggested as he climbed the steps. He didn’t knock on the door, but opened it as if he were family and hallooed in the entryway.

  “We’re in here,” Letty said, emerging from the parlor. “How were the stables?”

  She’d been crying, though she looked… not unhappy.

  “Fun,” Danny murmured, again burying his nose against David’s neck.

  Letty frowned at the child then at David. “Is somebody tired?”

  Several somebodies were likely weary to death.

  “Somebody,” David said, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “is burdened with secrets, but not for much longer. Is the vicar about?”

  “Here,” Banks said, coming up behind Letty with a smile. “I smell the most wonderful perfume—like horses, only mixed with little boy. Did you see anything you liked, Danny?”

  Danny wasn’t to be cajoled, and Banks shot David a perplexed look.

  “Into the parlor, shall we?” David suggested. Letty and Banks followed him, both clearly puzzled by Danny’s behavior—and David’s. David sat in one of the rocking chairs, Danny in his lap, and set the chair in motion.

  “Danny has matters to discuss, but first you must both promise him sincerely that you won’t be mad at him, and you won’t toss him on the rubbish heap, no matter what.”

  “I promise,” Letty said instantly. Banks paused a moment though, waiting for the child’s eyes to meet his—probably a maneuver taught in vicar school.

  “Danny,” he said, “I will not be angry with you, no matter what you tell me. And I would not toss you on the rubbish heap, or suffer anyone else to do that, no matter what. I promise. Do you believe me?”

  He was good at being a vicar, at being a papa. And Banks was just plain good, as Letty was good.

  As David himself could be good, when he tried very hard and didn’t own any brothels.

  Danny returned Banks’s regard, looking very like him. “But you are not my papa.”

  That was all he got out before bursting into tears and pitching against David’s chest. Banks fished out a handkerchief and hunkered beside the rocker, while Letty crouched on the other side, looking dumbstruck.

  “Danny, hush,” Banks coaxed, taking the child from David’s arms. “I love you, Danny, that’s what matters. I love you.”

  “But you’re not my papa!” the child wailed, clinging to Banks’s neck. “I haven’t a papa at all!”

  While Banks slowly paced the room with the child in his arms, Letty rose, her movements burdened and creaky.

  “Take it,” David said, shoving his handkerchief at her. He rose and kept an arm around her waist as Banks continue to try to reason with Danny.

  Who was only becoming more and more upset.

  ***

  A mother, a real mother who hadn’t abandoned her son to the care of a viper, would know what to do. Letty hadn’t the right to interfere between her brother and her son at that moment, and yet, she could not keep silent.

  “Daniel Temperance Banks, hush before you scare my cat.” The heartrending sobs ceased, as both Danny and Daniel turned surprised expressions on Letty. “Thank you, that’s better. Gentlemen, if you’d have a seat.”

  She put as much command into her tone as she dared, more than she’d ever used on David’s employees at The Pleasure House, more than she’d attempted on David himself. Almost as much as her own mother might have used when in a taking with her offspring.

  And it worked. The Banks menfolk subsided, Daniel into a rocking chair, Danny to a corner of the sofa near Letty’s chair.

  “Danny, listen to me: everybody has a papa. My own papa died before you were born. Lord Fairly’s papa is gone too. Your papa got sick and died, the same as my own mama and papa did. That’s all. It’s sad that your papa died before he could know you, but I’ve loved you since the day I knew God was sending you to us, and that’s what counts. So has Daniel.”

  “But she said…” Danny sniffled, dragging a finger under his nose.

  Letty shifted to the sofa and used David’s handkerchief to tidy up her son—another s
kill mothers laid claim to that Letty could apparently appropriate.

  “Tell us,” Letty said, slipping an arm around the boy. “Tell us, because she’s far away, and the people who love you need to know what she said.”

  “She said I was nobody’s, that I have no mama and no papa, and if I was bad, I’d end up like Malkin Tidebird.”

  Even Letty had heard this tale of the boy from Little Weldon who’d been lost for weeks in London.

  “Malkin’s family found him, didn’t they?” Daniel prompted. Across the room, David rocked slowly and petted the cat, who’d found its way to his lap.

  “Nobody would look for me,” Danny protested. “I would have to eat garbage and I’d be cold and the rats would get me and I would die of an ague!”

  “If you belonged to nobody,” Letty said, gathering the boy onto her lap, exactly where he should be, “then maybe those bad things might happen. But you belong to me, and to Daniel. You belong to the people who love you, and we will not let bad things happen, Danny. Even Zubbie loves you.” That merited a small smile from the child, at least.

  “He’s always a good boy for me.”

  “See?” Daniel gently poked the boy in the tummy, provoking a giggle. “Even a horse knows you’re lovable and special, and tries to get you to be his friend. I don’t want to hear any more talk about rubbish heaps, if you please.”

  “But did you know her?” Danny prompted. “Before she died, did you know my real mother?”

  Letty smoothed a hand over her son’s unruly dark hair. Perhaps in this one instance, Olivia had been attempting to be kind to the boy, offering a version of the truth, because the girl Letty had been—gullible, inexperienced, self-centered—she surely had died.

  Though her maternal instincts were apparently alive and well. “Daniel, if you would please explain this to Danny?”

  “That is an entirely different matter,” Daniel said, straightening his lapels as Letty had seen him do many times in the churchyard.

  “You knew her?” Danny pressed.

  “I am looking at her.”

  Never had Letty loved her brother more, and yet, it was David’s steadying gaze, David’s slight smile that fortified her. Danny followed Daniel’s gaze, and his little eyes went round as comprehension dawned.

  “Aunt Letty is my real mother?” he whispered.

  “She is,” Daniel said. “She always has been, but she couldn’t always take care of you. That’s why she spent most of her visits with you, Danny, because she missed you so much.”

  Danny pulled away to study his mother. “Why is Aunt Letty crying?”

  “I can answer that,” Letty said. “I’m crying because I could not stay with you once you were no longer a baby. I’m crying because I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m crying because I have missed you every d-day since I left Little Weldon, and I’m crying because I’m happy for you to know the truth, even though it might be hard.”

  The child looked bewildered, but Letty could only wipe at her cheeks and try not to hug the stuffing right out of him.

  “She’s crying,” David said, “because she’s worried you will be angry with her. You are not the only one who’s been afraid of a trip to the rubbish heap.”

  Danny was a bright child, and David had put the matter in terms he could understand.

  “I’m not mad.”

  “Good,” Daniel said as Letty tried to find a dry spot on the much-used handkerchief. “We’ll give your mama a chance to collect herself, then. But, Danny?”

  Your mama. Letty nearly dissolved into outright sobs at two simple words.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Were there any other secrets?”

  “Just one. She said she was going to go away soon, and I wouldn’t know where to find her. But that wasn’t a bad secret. That was a good secret.”

  “It was also the truth,” Daniel replied with a sardonic smile. “At least the part about her going away. She and I won’t be under the same roof anymore, Danny.”

  “Good,” the boy replied firmly. “Is there any more chocolate?”

  The question assured Letty that her son would weather these revelations well enough, in time.

  “There is,” Letty said. “Would you like to come with me to the kitchen so we can see about getting you some?” Because she was his mama, and a mama could spoil her son in small ways whenever she pleased.

  “Yes!” Danny bounced off her lap, grabbed Letty’s hand, and dragged her toward the door. David rose to meet them and put a staying hand on her arm.

  He said nothing, merely kissed Letty’s cheek and winked, then shooed her into the front hall and closed the door.

  Seventeen

  David surveyed the remaining victim of Olivia Banks’s scheming—for Letty and Danny would find their way, of that he was sure.

  “Letty keeps decent liquor on the premises, if you’d like me to scare you up a medicinal tot,” he offered. Though when he’d stocked Letty’s sideboard, he’d never envisioned the liquor would be used for medicinal purposes.

  Banks slumped in his chair. “Last night was rather adventurous for me. That will have to serve as my signal incident of drunken excess.”

  “You’ve a lot to learn about drunken excess, Banks, but as a papa, you did splendidly,” David said, taking the other rocker. “Broke my heart to see it.”

  And he’d never admired a man more.

  “Broke my heart too, and Letty’s heart broke every time she saw the child in my care. God above, to think what Olivia did to that innocent little boy…”

  “Tried to do.” Because she’d failed. Danny was in no way headed for any rubbish heaps, and never would be. “His trust has been abused, but in the end, he was honest with the people he could rely on and was relieved of his burden. He certainly wasn’t going to tell me a thing. Who was Malkin Tidebird?”

  Banks sat up a bit. “Malkin is one of eleven Tidebirds, and when he turned six, his parents apprenticed him to a cooper here in London. The arrangements got confused, and Malkin was left at some tavern, while the cooper awaited him at another tavern. The boy wandered the streets for weeks, begging, eating scraps, and sleeping in doorways, before a letter from the cooper reached the family, and they could come searching for him. They eventually found Malkin filthy, emaciated, and barely existing as a mud lark.”

  “A cautionary tale.” Which could have ended even more unhappily.

  “Terrifying,” Banks said. “We set up a prayer chain, so until the boy was found, somebody was praying for him at every moment. On second thought, I’ll have a small tot.”

  “Of course.” David opened a sideboard that stood along one wall. He poured two glasses of brandy and took one to Banks. “Will you be all right?”

  Banks tossed back the liquor in a single swallow and held out his glass for more. David considered he’d just watched a man take his first step away from a religious vocation, and added Banks to the list of people he’d pray for each night.

  “I will not be all right, not for a long, long time.”

  David refilled the glass, Banks being a substantial fellow, despite lack of familiarity with strong spirits. “You can’t drown your sorrows in truth, you know,” David said, putting the bottle away. “And you have done the right thing and the only thing, under the circumstances.”

  “I love that child,” Banks informed his drink. “But I was a fool to believe Olivia when she said Letty chose to leave him to go into service. Letty’s his mother, for God’s sake. She carried him in her body, nourished him at her breast for the first year of his life… And I was willing to think she left him behind with a relieved sigh to go beat rugs for the Quality in Town. I was deluded.”

  Good people often were. They viewed the world as full of others like them, until experience proved them wrong. “You can’t abandon the boy now.”

  Daniel tossed him
an incredulous look. “You’ve seen to it—and Olivia has seen to it—that Letty can provide for him better than I can. She’s his mother. I am only an uncle who is about to part company with spouse, church, and livelihood.”

  Progress, not away from sainthood, but perhaps in the direction of being human. The cat hopped into the vicar’s lap and went to work shredding another pair of borrowed breeches.

  David silently toasted his companion. “I’m relieved to hear you pouting. Nobody could sustain the nobility of character you’ve displayed here today.”

  “I’m not pouting.”

  He was grieving, or he would be soon. “Glad to hear it, but don’t sulk, then. Don’t slink off and think you’ve no place in the child’s life. You are the person he loves most in the whole world right now, and if you disappear, he will blame himself.”

  Banks petted the cat, and the beast began to rumble. “I thought you didn’t have children, and yet you seem to understand their funny little minds. That is exactly what Danny would do.”

  “My aunt collected me from my mother’s humble Scottish household when I was about Danny’s age, for a ‘visit’ to England. I took two years to comprehend that I would be visiting England for the rest of my childhood, and I never again shared a household for any length of time with my mother. You can’t run out on Danny now, Banks. I won’t allow it.”

  Because left to his overdeveloped theological tendencies, Banks would fashion an emotional hair shirt and depart for parts distant.

  “You,” Banks said around another sip of his drink, “and your allowing can go hang.”

  The kind thing to do was goad the saintly bastard, because he’d probably refuse to get drunk. “Such talk from a man of the cloth.”

  Banks smiled then, a small, genuine smile that reminded David that Letty’s brother was a damned good-looking saintly bastard. “I am looking forward to cursing, and to overindulging on occasion, and having a second helping of pie, and owning more horses like Zubbie. Being a vicar—a good example—is a lot of work.”