“Somewhere to go?” Brent’s confused voice echoed from behind.
Darcy lifted her battered blue bonnet from the hat tree and pulled the hatpin from the crown.
“Miss Evans, will you kindly inform me what this latest flurry of activity is all about?”
Darcy slapped the bonnet over her head, deciding to dispense with the pin this time, since her hair was braided to her waist. There hadn’t been time to put it up this morning.
“Miss Evans.” His tone was impatient.
She turned. “It’s quite simple, really. You’re taking me to the carnival. We’d better get a move on, since they’ll be leavin’ soon.”
His mouth dropped open. “I’m taking you to the. . .” He shook his head as though to clear it. “And do tell what has put such a preposterous notion into your head?”
She shrugged. “If you don’t take me, then I’ll go by meself—or ask Michael to drive me, though I’d rather not, since he took me to town once today. Oh, and Charleigh did give her approval. But not to worry, Guv’ner. If you can’t spare the time, I’m not afraid to go alone.” Tapping her crown, she gave him a quirky smile and strolled outside.
Muttering under his breath, Brent grabbed his hat and hurried out the door after her.
Eleven
For the first mile of the ride, Brent remained quiet. Darcy didn’t mind; she had enough to think about. Like how she would approach Lila and what she would say once she did. Darcy only hoped that the irritating barker wasn’t around to thwart her plans. Thwart. Her new word for the day.
Darcy peered at her companion. Sitting rigid as ever, Brent held the reins in a strong grip, his jaw as tight as his fists. She shook her head.
“No need to look so dour, Guv’ner. It’s not like I kidnapped you or forced your hand in takin’ me. I told you I was willin’ to go alone. Anyway, Charleigh did say they can do without us for a few hours, and the day is quite lovely.” She inhaled deeply, lifting her face to the cloudy sky and putting her hand to the crown of her hat. “Just smell that crisp air! It’s a wonder you can actually smell cold weather, isn’t it?”
Brent gave a curt nod, and Darcy looked away, resigned to enjoy the day alone.
“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me just why it is that we’re embarking on this little outing,” Brent said wryly after a few moments elapsed.
“Why, Guv’ner—all you had to do was ask.” At his startled glance, she threw him a saucy grin. “I need to talk to someone at the carnival, though I’ve no idea what I’ll say. It’s just something I feel the Lord’s impressin’ me to do.”
Brent was silent, as though assimilating her words.
“And while I’m about me business, you should report the shell game incident.”
“Pardon?”
“The clown who was with Joel—and from the looks of it, trying to get him to join his illegal activities. He should be reported, don’t you think? So that he doesn’t pollute another child’s mind with his nefarious ways.”
Brent stared at her, evidently surprised. He didn’t remark on her fancy new word—by now she’d collected a hefty bundle of them—but rather arched his brow as if in thought.
“You’re absolutely right, Miss Evans. I was so caught up in transporting the boys safely back to the reformatory that I didn’t speculate on the matter. The man definitely should be reported, and I intend to do just that. How astute of you to think of it.”
Darcy pulled off her hat and fiddled with the ribbon above the brim. “I can’t take full credit. Charleigh is the one who suggested it.” What was she doing? For once, Brent was offering her a sincere compliment not related to her education, and she was flinging it back in his face? Still, she didn’t want praise if it wasn’t rightly deserved.
He gave her an odd look, one that Darcy couldn’t decipher, but he didn’t reply.
Soon they arrived at the carnival grounds. In the soft gray light of overcast skies, Darcy saw the midway had taken on a dramatic transformation. Gone were the hordes of people, the barkers, the calliope music. The false fronts had been taken down, and the tents and makeshift buildings were being dismantled by workers too busy to notice Darcy and Brent’s presence. The cool breeze picked up numerous leaflets, paper sacks, and other bits of discarded trash, sending them skidding over the ground as though they had a life of their own.
Darcy peered in the direction of the freak show. Her heart sank to see the building gone. Where would she find Lila?
Almost in answer to her mental question, the woman came walking around the corner of a tent and crossed the midway. In her arms she held a beautiful dark-haired child, possibly two years old. As she walked, Lila bounced the girl, who laughed with glee.
“Do ’gain!” the tot cried, clapping her hands. “Do ’gain!”
Lila caught sight of Darcy and halted in surprise. Wariness flitted through her eyes before she stiffly resumed walking, ignoring Brent and Darcy.
“Excuse me,” Darcy said when the woman was only feet away. “I’d like to talk with you.” She moved closer so she could be heard over the racket the workers made. “Me name’s Darcy Evans.”
Lila directed somber brown eyes at Darcy. “The freak show is over. Go home.” She started to walk away.
Unfazed by the woman’s abrupt words, Darcy hurried forward. “It isn’t the show I’ve come to see you about.”
“No?” The woman stopped and tilted her head in evident disinterest. “If you’re a reporter, I’m not available for questioning, and I’m not interested in an interview.” She clutched the child tighter to her breast. “I have nothing to say to the public.”
“I’m not a reporter.” When Lila remained unapproachable, Darcy deliberated, wondering how to convince her. She dropped her gaze to the wide-eyed child, who hooked one chubby arm around Lila’s neck and stared at Darcy with uncertainty. “That’s a gorgeous little girl you have there. Is she yours?”
Lila cocked a wry brow. “Surprised a freak can give birth to a normal child?”
“I didn’t say that.” Darcy gave an exasperated sigh. The woman was obviously bent on being difficult. “Can we go somewhere to talk? I mean no harm, and I won’t take up much of your time.”
Lila hesitated a long moment, eyeing Darcy, then gave a curt nod. “This way, then.”
Darcy glanced at Brent before following Lila to a set of railroad tracks nearby, where the carnival train sat. On the side of each railcar were words painted in red, yellow, and blue, labeling the different attractions. Lila stepped up to one of the trailer cars and cast a brief glance back at Darcy before continuing into the car, which contained sleeping berths. She moved down the narrow aisle to one of the lower berths and gently deposited the child on a thin, dirty mattress.
“There now, Angel.” Lila brushed the curly black locks from the girl’s forehead and bent to kiss her pink cheek. “Time for all good girls to take a nap.”
The girl pouted. “Don’ want sweep. Want Mama an’ Unka Buce.”
“Mama has to take care of things so we can go bye-bye on the train tonight. And Uncle Bruce has to help the men take things down. But beautiful, bright-eyed girls named Angel must go to dreamland now.” She tickled the girl’s side, making her giggle, then grabbed a faded doll from the mattress and placed it in the girl’s arms. “Sleep well, precious Angel. Mama will be back soon.”
Lila stood, pulled the curtain that covered the berth closed, then looked at Darcy, her eyes cold again. “We can talk outside.”
They exited the sleeping car, and immediately Lila faced Darcy, crossing her arms in a defensive gesture. “Just what do you want from me?”
Instead of answering, Darcy asked a question of her own. “Where is the child’s father? Is he with the carnival too?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious—it’s a fault of mine. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Lila paused, considering. Though her expression was indifferent, pain glimmered in her
eyes. “I haven’t the faintest idea where Angel’s father is,” she said at last. “Nor who he is. Late one night when we were at a small town in Jersey, I needed to make a quick trip into the nearby woods and was attacked in the dark. Angel was born nine months later. And though I’ll always despise that lecher for what he did to me, I wouldn’t trade anything for the joy that sweet child has brought these past two years.”
Darcy nodded, unsure how to reply.
Lila’s cold gaze traveled over Darcy’s altered dress. “I suppose my story shocks you, since you come from a good home and have no concept of what pain or hardship means.”
Darcy straightened to her full height and worked to keep her voice level. “A good home? Hardly. After me mum died, when I was ten, me stepfather came after me. I whacked him over the head with a frying pan and ran away. I lived on the streets of London and begged for me food. When the beggin’ brought no pence, I stole what I could to feed me belly; and later, when I was older, I relied nightly on the numbing effect of ale. No, Lila, I didn’t know any good thing except for the friendship of three other guttersnipes—who are now either dead or in jail and were as miserable as I.”
Lila’s cold disinterest melted as Darcy spoke. “Then you know how hard life can be.”
“Aye, that I do. But I know somethin’ else. Somethin’ I never knew ‘til someone told me. And though I’m not well educated in how to speak me mind, I came to share with you the truth I found. The truth a friend taught me. God loves you, Lila. He wants you to know it.”
Lila stared in disbelief and gave a scoffing laugh. “You expect me to believe that? I suppose God loved me so much He decided to tack a beard and mustache to my face for good measure—making it impossible for any man to love me. Is that what you’re saying?”
“All I know, Lila, is that God is not cruel and vindictive; He’s lovin’ and full of peace. He died on a cross so that ye could be with Him forever. All He asks is that ye accept His sacrifice and follow Him. He truly does love you. He sent me here to tell ye so.”
“Did He now?” The words were mocking and harsh, but vulnerability flickered in Lila’s brown eyes. “And just what else did He tell you?”
“He asked me to give you this.” Darcy pulled the small book from the bag she carried.
Lila stared at it.
“It’s a Bible.”
“I know what it is,” Lila snapped. Her gaze—cold again—lifted to Darcy’s. “I know all about sacrifices too. My father was a preacher. Surprised? I sensed how uncomfortable he was around me—how he couldn’t stand to even look at me, and I overheard him tell my aunt one night of the sacrifice he’d made to raise me, of the burden God had given him. Knowing I wasn’t wanted, I sneaked away from home four years ago when this carnival came to town, and I joined up with it.”
Darcy didn’t know what else to say or why the Lord had even directed her to come. Lila was hardened to hearing anything about the gospel. And she knew what was in the Good Book, if her father was a preacher. “Well, that’s all I had to say, so I’ll be leavin’ now. I did so want to help you, but I can’t force you to receive the message of God’s love. Good-bye, Lila. I’ll pray for ye tonight—and every night from here on out. You have me word on that.” She tucked the Bible into Lila’s crossed arms and moved away.
“Wait!”
Darcy turned in surprise.
Lila seemed uncertain. “Did you mean what you said? That you want to help?” Biting her lip, she uncrossed one arm, took the Bible in her hand, and moved a step toward Darcy. “This carnival is no place for Angel. I want her to live a normal life—or as normal as can be with a mother who’s a freak. Do you think. . .can I come work for you? I’m a hard worker and am skilled in housekeeping, sewing, and cooking. I make all my own clothes and Angel’s too. My mother died when I was twelve, and I had to take over those duties while I lived with my father.”
Seeing Darcy’s eyes widen, she hastened to add, “I promise I’ll stay out of your way and won’t come anywhere near when your friends are around. I can shave off this beard, so I’d appear normal. The reason I haven’t is a fear I’ve had since childhood—when I accidentally cut myself deep enough to produce a scar—and the idea of using a straight razor every day on my face is frightening. My hands aren’t always steady, but I’ll do it if I must. No one need know of my deformity. If I could bear to give up Angel, I’d ask you to take only her. But without her in my life, I’d surely die.”
Darcy searched for something to say. “Lila, I can’t hire you.”
The woman’s features hardened. “Never mind. It was foolish to ask. I suppose you’re like those who have no problem speaking the gospel, but when it comes to living it, that’s another matter altogether. I shouldn’t be surprised. You might as well take this back. I’ve had enough of your kind to last me an eternity.” Lila stuffed the Bible into Darcy’s hand and moved away.
“Now you wait just one minute,” Darcy snapped. “It has nothing to do with any such foolishness. I live at a boys’ reformatory—a place for young criminals. The boys there can be cruel—believe me, I know—and bringing you home with me would be like bringing a lamb to wolves.”
Lila shook her head, unconcerned. “I’ve heard every insult there is and am accustomed to being gawked at. I could handle any taunts and jeers. I’m only concerned about my Angel. Would she be unsafe there?”
“I’ve been there over a year, and while the boys are in definite need of reformin’, they would never hurt anyone. Of that I’m sure.” Darcy blinked, realizing what she’d done. Instead of dissuading Lila, she’d given her reason to further plead her cause.
“I have no authority to hire you on, Lila. Neither does Brent Thomas, the schoolmaster there and the man I drove here with. All decisions are made by a small board of members at the reform. Brent is only one member of that board.”
“The carnival doesn’t leave until late tonight,” Lila said quickly. “If your people disagree to the arrangement, I’ll return here. I promise. And if that should happen, we’ll find our own transport back so you won’t be bothered with taking us.”
Darcy hesitated. “What about Angel’s uncle? Won’t he miss her?”
“Angel’s uncle? Oh, you must mean Bruce. He’s the strong man in the freak show—no relation. Angel dotes on him and he on her. It would be hard for both Angel and me to leave him—he’s been a good friend—but as I said before, I only want what’s best for my daughter. And I don’t like some of the things that’s been going on at this carnival lately.” She quickly broke off as though she’d said too much. “Please, Miss Evans?”
Darcy studied the entreating, desperate eyes. She thought of Charleigh, of her kind and generous heart and tarnished past. She thought of Michael, who never condemned a soul and was always ready to help someone in need. She thought of Stewart, whose main objective in opening the reformatory was to help those nobody wanted. The hopeless cases. The outcasts.
Sighing, Darcy nodded. “Grab your daughter, and come along, then.”
She didn’t dare think of what Brent would say.
❧
“What in the name of all that is sane and normal were you thinking, Miss Evans?” Brent stared at Darcy, exasperation written on his face. “Have you lost all the good sense God gave you?”
They stood in a sheltered part of the woods near a creek. Lila was in the wagon changing Angel’s diaper. This was their first moment alone since Darcy had returned to Brent with Lila and Angel in tow.
“I know Charleigh,” Darcy insisted. “She would’ve done the same.”
“Would she now?” Brent shook his head and started to pace again, threading his fingers through his hair—an uncustomary action for him. He’d left his hat in the wagon, and for a moment Darcy admired the way the sunlight through the trees picked out threads of bronze-gold in his tousled locks. “Yes, perhaps she might have, as it is her place to acquire any help needed at the reformatory. But you had no right to do so! There is already an efficient coo
k and housekeeper at Lyons’s Refuge, and you were hired as the cook’s assistant. What will that woman do at the institution?”
“That woman?” Darcy crossed her arms. “Tell me, Guv’ner, this isn’t about Lila’s qualifications at all, is it? It’s about her appearance.”
Brent tensed and faced her. “What do you mean?”
“What do I mean?” Darcy scoffed. “Why, surely you could tell she sports a beard, couldn’t you, Guv’ner? But of course you could! Outside appearances are of great importance to you, aren’t they now? Unfortunately, you can’t see past them to the heart that beats inside. More’s the pity.”
A muscle twitched near his jaw as he approached. “Miss Evans, this conversation is highly irregular as well as being entirely preposterous—”
“Is it now?” she interrupted. “Preposterous, ye say? Then tell me why it is that ye’ve not noticed the changes I’ve made in the past year? Tell me why when you look at me you still see an uncouth, brash girl spoutin’ Cockney. Well, all right, I may still be brash and slip into Cockney at times, but except for that poetry contest, ye’ve barely given me credit for any changes made! And I’ve tried—oh, how I’ve tried to win yer approval. I studied hard—harder than you know, harder than any o’ the boys. I stayed up late night after night to learn how to be a better person—a lady you would admire, maybe even tyke a fancy to. But did it do any good, I ask you? No! Not that I care to impress you any longer. You’re too busy judgin’ on outward appearances and retainin’ early impressions to give a person any room to change or see what lies on the inside—where God looks, I’ll remind you again. And I pity you your ignorance and stony heart.”
Darcy began to pace, then looked back and retraced her steps toward him, her annoyance not yet sated. “And with someone like Lila—who likely can never alter her appearance—you can’t see beyond that to her heart, which is so pure and good and fine that the only thing she wants out of life is to do the best she can for her little girl. Well, Mr. Stuffed-Shirt Thomas, more’s the pity for you!” She leaned forward and snapped her fingers beneath his nose. “And that’s what I think o’ that!”
Heart Appearances (Truly Yours Digital Editions Book 560) Page 13
