by Eliza Lloyd
“But the ball? You must go!”
“All of us,” Birdie said.
“We haven’t gotten an invitation yet, and why should we? The Farrells don’t attend balls at the Royal Pavilion,” Imogene said, knowing she squelched the building excitement.
“Please, may we go?” Alice asked.
“Mrs. Brewster, what do you think?”
“The Children’s Ball is wonderful. Mr. Brewster and I went some years ago.”
“Would we be out of place?”
“Oh, there will be a group of aristocrats, but you needn’t worry—they won’t pay a bit of attention to anyone not in their strata.”
“We’ll see,” Imogene said.
For an existence that should have been about survival and despair, her life had been full of strange little bumps, lifting her to higher places. Each step gave her hope and happiness.
There was a difference between a lady and a whore—and the difference wasn’t about sexual intercourse. The difference wasn’t in her, but in how others treated her now that she had a name, an address and a pretty pair of shoes.
When supper was over, everyone helped clean the table except Imogene, who lifted Lily into her arms. Satisfaction coursed through Imogene, knowing someday Lily would reap the benefits. Her life would be so much better.
Lily should be the one to attend balls and dance with handsome rogues. And marry the man she loved.
“Did you have fun today?” Imogene asked as she took a seat, moving Lily to her lap.
“The best day ever.” She reached into the pocket of her apron. “Here. I found this for you.”
“You did? What is it?”
“A shell. Birdie said you can hear the ocean.”
It was a beautiful cone with white and gold splashes but with a chunk cracked away. She held it to her ear. “Oh. I can hear it.”
“I told you.” Lily dug in her apron pocket again.
“What else is in there?”
“Rocks and sand and this.” She pulled out another snail—a small, live one.
“My, what will you do with him?”
“It’s a girl. I’ll keep her in my pocket since she likes sand.”
“What a good idea. Lily?”
“Yes, Mama?” Lily stared up at her, winsome innocence in her expression. There was so much Imogene wanted to tell her daughter. That she was loved. That she would never be alone. And she wanted to be able to tell her the name of her father.
Was Jack that man?
Pierre had been so good to them. Someday Lily would ask about her grandparents and where Imogene had grown up and so many other awkward questions. Would she have to tell her the truth then?
“Do you know who I love most in the world?” she asked.
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” Imogene caressed Lily’s face and then tapped her nose.
“And Birdie and Todd and Mrs. Brewster and Ynez.”
“Yes, I do love you all.” Imogene laughed a bit but felt a well of tears.
But you most of all, she thought, hugging her daughter tighter.
Since she’d been with Jack a few weeks ago, she had not stopped thinking of him. More than ever, she wanted to believe Jack was Lily’s father. It was nigh impossible to look at her and not see Jack. She still didn’t want to believe the alternative.
“You’re squishing me,” Lily said. “Can I play with Tiger?”
“First you need to pick up your shoes and take them to the kitchen for cleaning.” Lily slid from Imo’s lap. “And you are to clean them. Don’t ask Mrs. Brewster or anyone else.”
Imo watched her run out of the room. Her chest swelled with ache. Could a person, a mother, explode with the emotion she carried for her child?
Jack would love their daughter. Lud, would he believe Imogene when she had to tell him? And what part of the story would she tell?
Or maybe Jack would recognize her as his own.
She sighed. If he recognized Lily, would her problems be any less?
Well, she must write Frank. Writing to him was the one way she could pour out her heart and know she wouldn’t be judged. Frank would have answered her questions with a direct answer. He could spot a balm from one hundred paces or at least he could call tomtit when he heard it.
Sometimes writing to him brought clarity to her muddled thoughts.
She had so much compared to her humble beginnings. Why did she yearn for more with Jack? And would the yearning ever stop?
* * * * *
“Lily’s dwowned and Bwdie’s gone!” Todd swiped his dirty coat sleeve beneath his snotty nose. Tears wet his face and his chest heaved.
Imogene had heard the commotion when he burst into the house. She bent in front of him and took his shoulders. “What’s happened, Todd?”
“Lily’s dwowned and Bwdie wan away she was so afwaid and I said I would get help and she said it was too late but we was to say that you should take cawe of us since she had to go away.” No one bothered correcting his pronunciation.
“Slow down, lad,” Mr. Brewster said, placing a comforting hand to Todd’s shoulder.
“Where were you playing?” Imogene asked. She couldn’t look at the Brewsters or the girls gathered around them. Todd’s screams had drawn everyone to the kitchen. Imogene braced herself. It couldn’t be true. They weren’t to go in the water without an adult.
Todd broke, throwing himself into Imogene’s arms. He tried to say something, but his words were an inarticulate wail followed by shoulder-shaking sobs.
Imogene forced herself to remain calm but she couldn’t thrust Todd away even though she ached to know Lily was safe. It would do no good to run from the house, tearing at her hair. Lily was safe.
It wouldn’t do anyone any good to panic. Lily was safe.
She patted his back and kissed his temple. “Mrs. Brewster, can you watch Todd and keep him safe? Birdie took the young ones to the Chain Pier to watch the ships this morning. We’ll start there.” She hugged Todd. “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.”
Everything will be all right, she told herself. She would never forgive Charlie’s god if something happened to her precious Lily. Oh please God, don’t let anything have happened to her. Please. Please. Please.
Laraine, Ynez and Madelina hurried out the door. Imo gripped Brewster’s arm. “Fetch a wagon and blankets. We’ll watch for you.”
Imogene grabbed a shawl and ran out the door, catching up with the older girls. The day wasn’t cold, but it was overcast and the beach had only a few people about.
She was just about to give instructions to each of them when Madelina yelled, “There. There’s a group of people.”
Yes. Something was happening. She ran toward them, but the sand was an additional weight that slowed her down. Imogene’s heart thudded furiously. Her vision narrowed to a long black tunnel. She wasn’t going to faint. She was strong. She knew what hardship was, had born so much. What was another tragedy?
Jack was never going to know his daughter!
Imogene could not continue running. Ynez had reached the edge of the crowd and pushed through.
When she heard Ynez scream, Imogene stopped. Tears poured from her eyes, yet somehow she found strength to move ahead.
Laraine took Imo’s arm. “Oh mon dieu,” she said, whispering a prayer. The crowd parted as she pushed through and her gaze was drawn to the cluster of children huddled in the sand near one of the landed skiffs.
“Lily!”
“Mama,” she whispered.
Imogene opened her arms, scooped up her daughter from the woman holding Lily and sobbed with relief. Ynez was beside her, patting her back. Lily was gulping air and her normally mischievous gaze was now full of fear. Imo pulled Lily’s little face to her chest and rubbed her back. “Mama’s here,” she said.
Imogene saw that her charges were safe and then glanced toward the woman who had comforted Lily.
“Thank you,” Imogene said to the woman. Lily was missing her shoes and he
r dress was torn, damp and dirty, clinging to her like seaweed. Laraine was bending to care for the Mitchells, who were also wet, and Madelina rushed to the children as well.
“What happened?” Imogene asked of anyone who listened.
“I heard the commotion. I don’t know, ma’am. The children were screaming,” someone said.
“Birdie pushed me into the water,” Lily said, still hiccupping and barely understandable.
“No she didn’t!” Alice yelled.
“Hush now,” Ynez said, her arm about Alice’s shoulders.
Something terrible had happened, but they were all safe. “Madelina, can you hold Lily for a moment?” Lily held tight. Imo ran her hand over Lily’s cheek. “For just a minute. Mama needs to see that no one is hurt.”
Lily had to be peeled away and she cried as Madelina took her.
Imogene glanced at the crowd, which was starting to disperse. “We’re fine,” she said, hoping they would all go away so she could ask questions. Her reassurance was feeble, but they had no business with the unknown family and its poor circumstances.
She knelt in the sand next to Alice. “It wasn’t Birdie’s fault,” Alice said with great feeling.
“Of course it wasn’t.” Imogene brushed her hand over Alice’s head. “The important thing is that you are all right. Each of you.” She reached for Jenny, the youngest, but she burrowed next to Sarah. “What is it?”
“Birdie said you wouldn’t keep us if we were bad.”
“Oh my darling. You are my daughter. I will keep you no matter what.”
“She said you wouldn’t love us.”
Imogene’s heart nearly broke a second time. Somehow she got her arms around all three of the Mitchell girls. How different her life might have been had her brothers not loved her. And Charlie? Had he feared the Farrells would leave him behind too?
Mr. Brewster arrived, puffing from his dash across the sand.
“We’re fine,” she said, standing to greet him and patting her hand against his arm. “We are all fine. Come, let’s return home and enjoy a warm drink and a warm bath, shall we?”
“What about Birdie? Will you let her come home?” Alice asked.
“Of course.” Imogene glanced toward the pier and the boats and the bathhouses. Of course she could come home, but where was she now? And did she feel loved enough to return?
Mr. Brewster helped the youngest into the rickety wagon that one of their neighbors used for hauling hay. One blanket was spread for the children and the other blankets were thrown over their shoulders to keep them warm.
Imogene held Lily again and kissed her cheek. “I have to find Birdie. I want you to stay with Madelina. I’ll be home shortly.” She spoke quickly with Mr. Brewster and set off to find Birdie, determinedly striding across the sand and glancing at any young girl with braids and a flowered pinafore.
When she returned to the house, fatigued and worried, Imogene found everyone cleaned up, fed and subdued, still sitting around the dinner table. Lily scooted off her chair and ran to Imo, burying her little face against Imo’s neck. There was no treasure greater than the warmth of her child.
“We’re all safe. That is what’s important.” No one answered. Alice swung her feet, keeping her hands firmly under her thighs. “I didn’t find Birdie tonight, but we’ll keep looking. Now I want you all to look at me,” she said to the Mitchells. “This is your home. If you see Birdie, you must encourage her to return. This is where she belongs.” Jenny bobbed her head. Todd, Sarah and Alice just stared, wide-eyed.
As the children were led off to their bedchamber, Imo listened to the condensed version of events from the Brewsters. Lily had fallen into the water from the pier. Perhaps Birdie had bumped her. No one knew for sure. Birdie had gone into the water after her and somehow got Lily to shore. After that, it was chaos. The children screaming, Birdie running away and some kind person leaning over Lily and turning her to her side, thumping her back until there was a sign of life, which for Lily was a terrifying scream and then loud wailing.
Imogene stood with her hand over her mouth, shaking her head and imagining all that could have gone disastrously wrong. She hugged the Brewsters, thanking them for their service. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
She didn’t bother changing her clothes, only slipping off her shoes as she climbed into the large bed beside the Mitchells, who were all huddled together in the middle of the mattress. Lily must have heard her because a few minutes later she was at the bed side, climbing up the steps and clawing over Imogene to snuggle in bed with them.
The next morning, Imogene helped the children dress, encouraging each of them with a few words. The bruises on Lily’s leg and arm told the story. Lily was lucky to be alive and Imogene was blessed to have her daughter safe from any lasting harm. But Birdie was no less important.
After looking for her continually for seven days, Imogene gave up. Someday, she hoped, Birdie would come home. She must have left Brighton, otherwise she would have heard Lily was still alive. That could be the only thing keeping her away—the fear she had been responsible for Lily’s drowning.
Other than the clothes on her back, what did Birdie have?
It wasn’t difficult for Imogene to imagine the thoughts that drove Birdie to hide. The shame. The fear. Birdie had no reason to believe Imogene could love her when her own mother had not.
Sometimes she understood why Charlie prayed so earnestly.
It was going to be a sad Christmastide for the Mitchells, for all of them.
* * * * *
“For a man in mourning, you seem to be inordinately happy.”
Jack whistled as he escorted his mother but glanced at her and wagged his brows. How could he not be happy? He would see Imogene soon. Danny had written to say the property in Deal had been purchased, and Mother was recovered and ready to return to London.
“Bath has had a rejuvenating effect on me,” he said. “As it has for you.”
She was determined to take the waters daily while they resided in Bath at the Royal Crescent, followed by afternoon teas with other aristocrats and evening balls or dinner at the Pump Room.
“Tosh. You haven’t even been in the waters. It is something else entirely and you are keeping it a secret. I haven’t seen you this happy since...” She looked up. “Well, in a very long time.”
“Mother, I am content. There is no great secret.”
“So you say.”
“Here we are.”
A servant was there to assist her, but she held Jack’s arm a moment longer. “You are anxious to leave, aren’t you?”
“I am,” he said. There was no reason to lie. The servants had already packed the majority of their belongings. Since he had received word from his agent, Jack hoped to be in Brighton by the end of the month. The agent claimed to have found the perfect residence for Jack, the boys and the household.
“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have left a few weeks ago.”
“Mother, I promised I would spend time with you while you recuperated. You seem yourself at last.”
The time for coddling Mother was over, which made his smile a bit lopsided.
Since Imogene’s return, he’d made the most important promise of his life and he was anxious to fulfill it. While he had grown from gentleman to earl, Imogene had changed her life in untold ways and Jack wanted to know everything. To say that he was anxious was a mild assessment of his excitement. He should have known his mother would notice the difference in him.
The hope that he could have Imogene again put energy in his step that had been missing for years.
Now when he opened his eyes in the morning, Imogene was there.
Nothing would go wrong this time. As the Prescott heir and as a gentleman, he had obligations to Catherine those years ago. Marriage was a responsibility involving his word and that of his family.
But now he really was free. Sometimes he could scarcely believe he was in charge of his own destiny.
&nbs
p; “Well, I will miss the comfort of Bath,” his mother said.
“All your friends will be back in London. You won’t miss it once the Season starts.”
Jack already knew he wouldn’t miss it. He could plead mourning as his reason for avoiding the majority of the ton entertainments this spring. Would he miss the chaos? The pomp? No. Not when he might be with Imogene.
She’d been an ethereal dream, standing in his bedroom when he least expected her. And when he most needed her.
He’d always imagined the perfect woman having ton manners, aristocratic influence and blood so blue the sky would be jealous.
Instead he wanted Imogene, a woman so perfect she might have been crafted just for him.
He would give up propriety for some candid entertainment and unabashed honesty. Funny, the things people said when they really had to sacrifice nothing to get what they wanted. There was a time when it would have been a sacrifice to be with Imogene—when it would have meant the most, he had chosen the easy path. Not this time.
The trip into London was uneventful, and his excitement disproportionate to the event. The boys rode with him and, for once, Jack didn’t mind the hundreds of questions, the crawling over his lap and the pulling at his watch chain.
He joined them in their innocent glee, pointing at animals out the window, stopping the carriage for no reason other than to dip their toes in the creek they passed over and falling asleep sprawled on the plush squabs of the conveyance, his boys tucked safely under the wing of his arm and in the solidity of his lap.
The sun was setting as they arrived in London. The rays crossed his face and he closed his eyes.
In Brighton, the sun’s rays were shining on Imogene too. He could imagine her smile and the welcoming warmth of her arms. But could he imagine a future with her? One that lasted longer than eighty-odd days?
What he knew was that he could no longer imagine a future without her. The details were incidental. The how and why didn’t matter. He would find his way to her side and they would figure out the rest together.
