After the Rain

by Elizabeth Johns

  He escorted her into the waiting hack and they sat quietly next to each other. Christelle felt differently from the way she had the last time she had sat next to him.

  The last time she had been worried about where her next meal would come from, and whether or not she would have a roof over her head the next day. She watched the buildings pass by. The rain had stopped for the moment and the world did not appear so gloomy on this occasion.

  “How are you getting on at Madame Monique's?” Dr. Craig asked.

  Christelle turned back to face him.

  “Very well, thank you. It is better than I could have hoped for.”

  “I am relieved to hear it. I was afraid I had unknowingly thrown you into the lion’s den.”

  “Not quite. It is hard work and many long hours, but she is also kind and generous with us.”

  “I wonder why more masters have not discovered they would have better employees if they treated them well. I would not care to be the type of master my servant might leave for dead in a dark alley if no one was looking.”

  “What a horrid thought! I confess, I have known masters such as you describe, though.”

  He smiled and tiny crinkles formed around his sparkling grey eyes. “You see? It pays to be kind to everyone.”

  “Oui.”

  “Are you hungry? Do you care for tea? I confess I was uncertain what you would like to do. The weather is not ideal for a walk in the park,” he said, looking out at the cloudy sky.

  “I think I would like that. I have been too nervous to eat today,” she disclosed frankly.

  Would that she could have captured the look on the Monsieur's face. It was a mixture of relief and pleasure mixed together.

  “I wish all people possessed your candour,” he replied.

  “I know no other way. It is a blessing and a curse.”

  “The world would be a simpler place if everyone said what they meant.”

  “Perhaps, but pride often prevents us from saying what we ought.”

  “Indeed. I believe you are correct,” he said after a moment's pause.

  “I am unfortunate to know from experience,” she added.

  “You seem to have a good deal of it. You cannot be beyond twenty years.”

  “I am not.” She did not wish to divulge her true age lest he think her a child. She had seen too much to go back to naïveté.

  He did not enquire further.

  “There is a bakery near the Amphitheatre where we may stop for tea.”

  “It sounds lovely,” she remarked as the conveyance crossed over the Thames via the same bridge on which he had found her a few short days ago. How different she felt now—as though night had turned into day.

  Chapter 6

  Seamus was not sure it was a good idea to take Christelle to Mr. Baker’s shop, but he knew they would be welcomed there. Mayfair did not boast any establishments where he could take a young lady without a chaperone.

  When they had alighted from the carriage and paid the driver, he escorted Christelle to the bakery’s door and held it open for her. The heavenly scent of sweet pastries and baking bread again overtook his senses and made his mouth water.

  “Dr. Craig, is that you?” Mrs. Baker called from behind the counter.

  “Yes, madam. May I introduce you to my friend, Miss... Christelle?” He did not know her surname! How embarrassing!

  “This is Mrs. Baker and she serves a delicious tea.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear. I am delighted you have come!”

  “It is too early yet for Astley’s and your husband invited me. I hope you do not mind my bringing a guest.”

  “Now, why would I mind? There is always food ready here,” Mrs. Baker said with a grin. “Ramona, can you please watch the counter?” she asked one of her workers as she untied her apron and placed it on a hook. “I am taking my guests upstairs for tea.”

  “Of course, madam,” the girl said. She watched Christelle with curiosity.

  Mrs. Baker led them up the staircase to their home above the shop. “I know you are really here to see how Raymond is doing, but I am always tickled to have company.”

  “We truly came for tea and company, but I am always happy to know how he does. I know you will send him to me when necessary.”

  “He goes on much better now, thanks to you. He had been getting worse and worse for years.” She turned to Christelle. “I suppose you already know Dr. Craig is a brilliant physician, but my husband could barely walk or catch his breath before the Doctor helped him.”

  “I suspected as much,” Christelle said with a kind smile.

  “Where did you have that dress made, young lady? If I did not know better I would think it was from Paris! It looks straight from the pages of La Belle Assemblée.”

  Christelle blushed charmingly. “I made it myself, madam. I have but recently come from Paris.”

  “Ah, that explains it,” Mrs. Baker said with a satisfied look. “Please have a seat, and I will find Raymond and put the kettle on.”

  When Mr. Baker had joined them and an array of sandwiches, tea and pastries had been set before them, Mrs. Baker asked Christelle questions which Seamus would far rather have listened to than to Mr. Baker.

  It did not take long for Mrs. Baker to discover almost everything about Christelle. Seamus wished he had the same conversational skills. He had to listen with one ear to both exchanges.

  She had spent her early childhood in Paris and then on the island of Jersey. Her mother had left her at a girls’ school in Paris before coming on a trip to England to look for someone. Her mother was killed in an accident in London, and the school had kept her as a charity pupil these past six years.

  “You poor dear,” he heard Mrs. Baker say. It sounded eerily similar to his own story, Seamus reflected. He had had his sisters and Gavin to support him, however. While he noticed Christelle did not complain, it did not sound as though she had had the same goodwill at her own school.

  “You are working at Madame Monique's? She is the most fashionable modiste in all of London!”

  “Yes, I was very fortunate to find a position with her.” Christelle looked towards Seamus with a shy smile.

  “I know she saw a diamond in you. Just look at you! You could be attending any of London’s fine drawing rooms in such a gown.”

  “Thank you, Madame.”

  “I suppose you had best go on to the theatre. You will enjoy it so. We are too old to go now, but it had the most fantastic tricks you will ever see!”

  “Thank you for tea, Mrs. Baker,” Seamus said as they stood to leave.

  “You are most welcome. It is the most pleasant visit I have had in a long while. Do come again soon!”

  The shop was bustling with people buying confections before the show began. Seamus felt mildly guilty, as he had not considered he would be imposing on Mrs. Baker’s time.

  They took their leave and began to walk around to the front entrance of Astley’s Amphitheatre. It was a mixture of sights and sounds—and smells; a crowd of people intermingled with stables.

  “May I ask your surname?” he enquired. He had been wondering about it since he had introduced her at the Bakers' shop and did not wish to be in the same predicament again.

  She wrinkled her brow. “I am not certain what it is. I was brought up thinking my name was Clement, but my certificate of birth says Stanton. I do not wish to have the same name as that awful man.”

  Seamus had no idea who Clement was, or what his story was. It could not be good. Maybe one day she would tell him.

  “Stanton is certainly an English name, and if you prefer it, then use it.”

  “Yes, I was thinking the same.”

  They found their box and watched the different classes in the audience as they waited. That was a show unto itself, especially the rowdy young bucks. There were several tiers of boxes around a central pit, and a large stage across one end. One box nearby held a working class family with seven children, and seated in t
he box next to them was a peer Seamus recognized although he could not quite recall his name. He was dreadful at remembering names. The man was with two young boys who were having difficulty containing their excitement. Seamus felt a longing inside for children of his own.

  “Do you like children?” he asked Christelle as they watched the twosome, and their father struggling to make them behave.

  “I do. I would very much like to have some of my own,” she answered in her usual frank way.

  He saw her make a quick face at the boys, eliciting a giggle.

  “I always wished for brothers and sisters. There were many girls at school, but I never did quite fit in.”

  “I hope you find your happiness,” he replied wistfully.

  “I did not mean to say I am unhappy,” she corrected.

  “I understand. You can be grateful for what you have but still hope for more.”

  “Just so.”

  One of the boys began to cry, and the father kept looking around as if waiting for someone.

  “May I?” Christelle leaned across to ask the man.

  “By all means,” he said with evident thankfulness. “His nurse is ill, and his mother has not returned from the retiring room.” The little boy thought it was great fun to be hoisted over the rail to Christelle and Seamus’s box by his father.

  “Again!” he cried.

  Christelle distracted him with the ribbons on her bonnet. Both Seamus and the man watched on with admiration.

  “Have we met?” the man asked.

  “You look familiar, but I cannot recall your name. I am Seamus Craig.”

  “My name is Roth.” The man offered his hand to shake. “Are you kin of Gavin Craig?”

  “I am his adopted son. I am now a consulting physician with Charing Cross Hospital.”

  “I have heard mention of you, come to think of it. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.” Lord Roth looked towards Christelle and cast a glance back at Seamus.

  Seamus realized the man must think her his ladybird since he had not introduced her. And, of course, he had brought her without a chaperone. Why did protecting her reputation matter so much? He wasn't sure of the answer, but it did.

  “May I introduce my friend, Miss Stanton? Her chaperone was taken ill just before we arrived and we sent her home. We had not thought it would be too scandalous in a busy theatre such as this.” He hated making up a story, but he had to protect her.

  Christelle acknowledged Lord Roth with a nod while continuing to entertain the boy.

  “Ah, there is Lady Roth. Gertrude, may I introduce Dr. Seamus Craig, the son of Lord Craig, of whom I speak often, and Miss Stanton, who has entertained young Nigel whilst you were away.”

  When the Lady cast a questioning look at Christelle, her husband immediately continued, “Her poor duenna took ill on the way here.”

  “Are you any relation to the Stantons of Warwickshire?” Lady Roth asked.

  “I do not believe so,” Christelle answered softly.

  “Miss Stanton is newly arrived from school in Paris,” Seamus explained.

  “Your toilette is extraordinary. Is this the latest fashion there?” the woman demanded of Christelle as she looked her over from head to toe.

  “It is.”

  “You must take me there, Roth. I long for some new fashions,” the lady stated with an affectation that annoyed Christelle greatly.

  “I have shown the latest designs to Madame Monique. Are you familiar with her?”

  “Indeed I am.” Lady Roth smiled triumphantly as a horn sounded and the Master of Ceremonies began to shout for everyone to take their seats.

  Nigel went willingly back to his box as the show began. Seamus then had difficulty taking his eyes from Christelle while she watched with a delight equal to that of the two boys seated beyond her. The performers did the most daring things—even Seamus was impressed. One rider stood on his head on a horse’s back, and another stood with each foot on two horses! It was the most fun he had had in some time.

  It was growing late when the show finished, and they both had to start work early the next day.

  “Shall we find a place to have dinner? Or do you need to return?”

  “I have eaten so much food tonight, between the tea and the treats here, it has quite made up for not eating earlier.”

  “Indeed, I am not hungry, myself. I shall escort you home, then.” He held out his hand to hail a hackney. “Would you care to go to the park on your next day off?”

  “I would like it very much, thank you.”

  Christelle said good night to Dr. Craig and unlocked the back door with the key Madame Monique had given her. She slipped off her boots and tiptoed quietly up the stairs. When she reached the bedchamber she shared with the other girls, she was surprised to find Lorena, Noelle and Madame waiting up for her.

  “I was trying not to wake you!” she exclaimed.

  “We could not sleep until we knew you were home safely,” Madame replied.

  “She always waits up for us,” Noelle stated. “Besides, we wanted to hear how it went,” she added with a giggle.

  “He is very handsome,” Lorena remarked. “And he is a gentleman.”

  “Sit down and tell us about it,” Madame encouraged with a smile.

  Christelle placed her half-boots under the bed, then untied the strings to her bonnet and unfastened her pelisse before setting them aside.

  “Well, he was very kind as always. First, he took me to tea at the home of one of his patients. They own a bakery in Lambeth, next to Astley’s Amphitheatre.”

  Noelle stood up and helped her to unfasten her gown and pull it over her head.

  Christelle sat down on the bed and curled her feet up under her as Noelle began to take her hair down from its pins. “Then we went to Astley’s. I have never seen anything like it! There were girls doing somersaults, riders upside down on the backs of horses, and animals doing tricks!”

  “I have been there once,” Lorena said. “I almost enjoyed watching the audience more than the performance.”

  “Yes, there were all types there,” Christelle agreed. “There was a very nice family in the box next to ours, and the Lady wanted to know where my gown was from. I told her Paris, but that you had all of the latest designs here.”

  “Did you, now?” Madame asked looking amused. “Who was this woman with such good taste?”

  “I believe her name was Lady Roth.”

  “I imagine she thought you were a lady, being with a gentleman.”

  “Or she thought me his paramour,” Christelle said with a wry grin. “Although Dr. Craig told them my duenna had taken ill on the way there.”

  “He is one to keep, Christelle. He was concerned for your reputation.”

  “I am sure I do not know why. It seemed as though there were a thousand in attendance!”

  “Besides, you are far too young to consider life as a courtesan. You have other options,” Madame said kindly.

  “How very romantic!” Noelle said dreamily.

  “But I do not think he is mine to keep,” Christelle told them sadly.

  “Time will tell. Let us try to sleep now. Morning will come before we wish it. Bonne nuit, mes filles.”

  “Bonne nuit, Madame.”

  Indeed, morning came much too early for Christelle. She had had difficulty falling asleep after her evening’s excitement.

  She splashed her face with cold water, dressed sluggishly and broke her fast with a roll before joining the girls in the workshop.

  They all settled down to work on whichever gown they had been creating or embellishing the day before, Madame included. It would be another hour or so before the customers started to arrive.

  “What brought you to England in the first place, Christelle? I have been meaning to ask you,” Madame said.

  “I was forced to leave my school in Paris. They did not want to offer me charity any longer, though I worked hard for them in return,” she said softly. “Before I left,
I was given my mother’s trunk of belongings. I did not know it existed.”

  “How long ago did she die?” Noelle asked.

  “It has been six years now.”

  “How nice to have some of her possessions, though,” Noelle added.

  “Oui, especially since it also contained my birth certificate. My mother was married to an Englishman many years ago, but they divorced.”

  “Was it his name on the certificate?” Madame asked.

  “I am not sure,” Christelle confessed. “But I came to England to see if I could find out.”

  “Perhaps I can help you find him, ma fille,” Madame said as she went into the salon to prepare for a customer.

  “What will you do if you find him?” Lorena asked.

  “I do not know. If he is not a nice person, I think I will just leave well alone.”

  Christelle concentrated on her work, but looked up from the hem she was finishing when she heard the front doorbell jingle. She was tempted to look when she overheard Lorena say the new arrival was one of their best customers. Her ears stood to attention the moment she heard fluent French being spoken.

  “It is Lady Ashbury,” Lorena whispered.

  “I hear you have a new seamstress. May I see her?” the lady was saying.

  “Of course, very soon. She is occupied this afternoon,” Madame replied.

  Christelle frowned. Why would she say that? Was there something so wrong with her that Madame did not want anyone to see her? She had no idea why Lady Ashbury would even wish to see her.

  “That is a shame,” the Lady said. “I had hoped to see her before I went to see Margaux.”

  “Who is Margaux?” Christelle whispered over her shoulder to Noelle, who was also shamelessly craning her neck to listen.

  “Another daughter.”

  “She is very talented. She has made me some sketches of the latest fashions from Paris, as well as some of her own designs. I had thought the Duchess might be interested,” Madame said.

  “Oui. Of course,” Lady Ashbury replied. “May I see them?”

  “One moment, please. I have been saving them.”

  Christelle hurried to the curtain to catch a glimpse of her ladyship while Madame went to the office for the sketches. Lady Ashbury's hair was like ebony and her skin porcelain. She did not look old enough to have grown children. She was indescribably beautiful. Oh, to see the Duchess!