The Captain's Daughter (London Beginnings Book #1)

by Jennifer Delamere

  He withdrew his hand. “I think I’m most tired of people telling me I look tired. It happens when a person works two jobs.”

  Immediately he regretted saying this. Not because of the pain his words brought to her cool blue eyes, but because Patrick had heard him. Never did he want his brother to think Nate begrudged the hard work he’d done on his behalf. This was the problem with trying to talk to Ada. It never did anything but fuel his frustration.

  Matthew was the first to rally and break the awkward pause. He said jovially, “Thank heavens for the Sabbath, eh? A day of rest. I hope you’ve given some consideration to our invitation to come and dine with us today.”

  “I can’t make it.”

  “Nate, don’t be rude,” his mother murmured.

  “It’s the truth,” Nate insisted. “Please excuse us,” he said to Ada and Matthew, and steered his mother toward the exit. He could sense the frosty disapproval of his family as they followed him.

  “Next Sunday, then?” Ada called after them.

  Nate hurried up to shake the minister’s hand. It gave him an excuse for not answering.

  Reverend Smith regarded him with kind eyes. “I want to thank you in advance for the work you’ll be doing at the parsonage this afternoon. The missus and I regard your kindness as a gift from the Lord.”

  “It will be our pleasure, sir.”

  Nate had offered to assist another church member, who was a plasterer by trade, in repairing some of the walls in the parsonage. His mother was still holding on to his left arm, and he felt her stiffen. He realized he’d forgotten to tell her about this. Another lapse he would ascribe to being overworked and under-rested. No doubt she worried about his adding yet more work to his schedule, but at least it was proof that he’d not been lying when he told the Wilkinses he had other plans.

  Due to Patrick’s leg, they took a cab home. “You know I have to do it, Ma,” he said as the carriage navigated the busy street. “The plaster is in terrible shape and threatening to fall down around Reverend Smith’s ears.”

  She sighed. “Yes, I know. To be honest, son, I’m more troubled by the way you treat Ada and Matthew.”

  “The way I treat them!”

  “I know you feel you have a right to be angry. But you cannot keep wallowing in your bitterness. They’re trying to find a way to make peace with you. Won’t you at least go and dine with them?”

  “Don’t ask me to do it, Ma.”

  It wasn’t often that he rejected her advice, and it pained him to do it now. But on this subject, Nate was immovable.

  He closed his eyes, knowing the weight of these cares was more to blame for his tiredness than any physical work.

  Jessie’s performance was beautiful. The music, played on the church organ, filled the cathedral and provided the perfect accompaniment for her singing. She had a sweet mezzo-soprano voice and sang with an earnestness befitting the music. Several of the songs allowed her to show a range and level of skill that were not so much on display in her role as Cousin Hebe in Pinafore.

  Rosalyn closed her eyes and bowed her head, saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving. It was restful here. The audience listened with rapt attention.

  Afterward, Jessie greeted the well-wishers who stayed to give their compliments. Rosalyn remained in her seat, observing. Many people waited to speak to Jessie and give her rapturous praise. Even though Rosalyn couldn’t hear their words, she could see it on their faces. Clearly Jessie was admired by many. She accepted the attention with unpretentious friendliness.

  As the crowd thinned out, a young man wearing servant’s livery approached Jessie and handed her a note. Rosalyn judged him to be a footman in a fine household. Jessie opened the note and read it, then spoke a few words to him. He tipped his head and left.

  Jessie walked over to Rosalyn. “Well, my dear, it appears I will have to trust you in my lodgings after all. I’ve been invited to sing at an important soirée tonight. I could not refuse it, and I would be an ogre to leave you out on the streets. But first we shall get something to eat, yes?”

  Rosalyn’s stomach rumbled in agreement. She had not sat down to a proper meal since the day before she’d left the Huffmans’ house. That seemed an eternity now. But she said, “I thought you didn’t eat before a performance?”

  “That rule can only go so far—a girl has to eat sometime! And in any case, this particular soirée will not be a full-scale performance. It is something altogether different.”

  This intrigued Rosalyn, but before she could ask more, Jessie was leading her out to the street. “I know a cozy place with excellent lamb chops, and the prices are very good.”

  The mention of cost gave Rosalyn pause.

  Sensing the drag in her step, Jessie said, “I shall be buying for the both of us.”

  “I hate to be a burden—”

  “Never you worry. I’ll have extra money in my pocket after tonight, and I am free to spend it any way I choose. Not that I’m a spendthrift, mind you! Which is why we are going to the Lamb and Bear rather than the Langham.”

  Jessie laughed. It was a joyful, infectious sound, and Rosalyn easily joined in. “At this moment I am quite sure the Lamb and Bear will seem every bit as luxurious as the Langham.”

  “I’m sure it will. Don’t think I didn’t hear that rumble of your belly a moment ago!”

  Rosalyn put a hand over her stomach. “You couldn’t have!”

  Jessie grinned. “Aha! I caught you out. No, I didn’t hear it, but the look on your face when I mentioned supper spoke loudly enough. Come on, then!”

  To Rosalyn, London was an endless maze of jumbled streets going off in all directions. But Jessie walked with the clear confidence of someone who knew exactly where she was going. They took several shortcuts down narrow, crooked lanes between the thoroughfares, finally stopping in front of an old wood-beamed building with a colorful sign over the door. It was a whimsical painting of a bear tipping his hat to a lamb, who looked very uncertain about the whole thing.

  “What is the origin of this name?” Rosalyn asked, pointing at the sign as they walked through the door.

  “I have no idea,” Jessie admitted. “But it’s charming, isn’t it? Just like this place.”

  It took a few moments for Rosalyn’s eyes to adjust to the darker setting inside. The dining area was about half full, with the tables nearest a large stone fireplace already taken. People clustered in groups of three and four at various tables, chatting animatedly.

  Several people smiled and waved at Jessie as she and Rosalyn seated themselves and removed their shawls. A few friendly, curious glances rested on Rosalyn, too. “Everyone seems to know you,” Rosalyn observed.

  Jessie tugged off her gloves. “Many of the patrons here are actors. Or singers. Or both, like me!”

  Rosalyn immediately recognized Tony Hayes sitting at a table on the far side of the room with two other men from the chorus. He was in the middle of saying something to them when his gaze met hers and he paused. Rosalyn saw a slight lift of his eyebrows and a slow smile spread across his face. He brought his hand to his forehead and gave her a little sailor’s salute. Rosalyn couldn’t help but smile in return. After saying a few brief words to his companions, Tony rose from the table.

  Jessie was seated with her back toward that end of the room, so she had not noticed this little interchange. She was not aware, as Rosalyn was, that Tony was sauntering toward their table. She said, “Now, I think we should talk more about your future plans. I want to help you find your way in London as best I can. We’ll need to work fast, since I leave so soon for America.”

  Tony reached their table and said, “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  Jessie looked up at him, her face reflecting vague irritation, but Tony’s attention was fixed on Rosalyn.

  “If it isn’t the pretty flower-bearer! I see Jessie is introducing you to the most congenial pub in London. Are you new in town? Staying with Jessie?”

  “Why, yes, I—”

 
; “Don’t be a busybody, Tony,” Jessie reprimanded.

  Tony laid a hand over his heart. “It’s only a kindly interest in the newest member of our theatrical family. But I see Ruth is here to take your order,” he said, as a stout, red-cheeked young woman approached their table. “I shall leave you to it.”

  With another smile and a wink at Rosalyn, he returned to his friends at the other table. Rosalyn watched him go, flattered at his interest.

  Jessie immediately turned her full attention to the serving woman, ordering two plates of lamb and vegetables. “And two glasses of red wine, too,” she finished.

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” Rosalyn protested. She had no idea what wine cost in the city, but it couldn’t be cheap.

  “Nonsense,” Jessie said. “It’s good for the digestion.” Giving Ruth a nod to confirm her request, she motioned the girl to be on her way. “Now, as I was saying, we must concern ourselves with you. I’d like to share a cautionary tale, if I might. Something about myself that is not generally known.”

  “Certainly,” Rosalyn answered, intrigued.

  “When I was seventeen, I had a singing master who was very enamored of my talents. He took an interest in me that was . . . well, unhealthy. He was much older than I, and far better acquainted with the ways of the world. On one particular day when I was to give a performance, he met me at the door of the concert hall. Instead of walking me inside, he dragged me into his carriage. He took me—alone—to his house.”

  Rosalyn gasped. “That’s terrible!”

  “He kept me there all night. He did not touch me—not on that particular night, at any rate,” she added darkly. “That would come later.”

  Jessie closed her eyes briefly, and her shoulders trembled as she gave a little shudder. Rosalyn sensed this was not mere stage drama, but Jessie’s true reaction to the terrible memory. “What did you do?”

  “What I felt I had to do, of course. He told me my reputation was now ruined—or at least, that it would be, unless I married him right away. I was young and naïve, and I didn’t know any better, so I married him.”

  “But what about your parents? Did they agree to this?”

  She shrugged and gave a sad nod. “Even they thought it was best at the time, although they quickly came to regret it as soon as they realized how my husband was treating me. When living with him became utterly unbearable, they welcomed me back with open arms.”

  She paused as Ruth came to the table and set down the wine. Once the serving girl was again out of earshot, Jessie continued. “Ultimately, I was able to obtain a divorce. It wasn’t easy, but it is done. Marriage is in my past, and that is where it will stay.”

  “So this is why, when you first saw me in the alley, you asked if I was there because of some man?”

  “Exactly. I’ve come out the other side of some very dark times. That is what I hope for you, as well. Be very careful about the company you keep, especially when it comes to men.” Although Jessie’s back was toward the table where Tony Hayes sat, she gave a slight sideways lift to her chin, which Rosalyn took to be an indication in his general direction.

  “You can’t think Tony is the sort of man who would take advantage of a woman!” Rosalyn couldn’t picture Tony forcibly dragging her off in a carriage.

  “I believe in caution,” Jessie stressed. “There’s no telling what any man might be capable of. The best way to survive in life is to never put yourself in a position of being controlled by a man. The only way to accomplish that is to stay single.”

  Rosalyn glanced toward Tony’s table and was surprised to find that he was looking at her. When their eyes met, he did not look the least bit abashed, but rather smiled and tipped his chin in acknowledgment. It crossed Rosalyn’s mind that perhaps Tony and the others had been talking about her. Immediately she dismissed the thought as foolish conjecture.

  “It is all very wise advice,” Rosalyn acknowledged. “I’m sure I’m just as likely to find unscrupulous men in Bristol as in London.”

  “Do you mean you still intend to go to your sister?”

  “I think in the end it might be better. When we return to your lodgings, would you be able to loan me pen and paper? I would like to write to her and see if she can send me the money for train fare.”

  Jessie set down her glass. “I will gladly loan you pen and paper, but I urge you to think carefully before you write to her. Given what I have just told you about my past, I hope you will believe me when I say there are men vindictive enough to harm a woman who has scorned them. Some will stop at nothing in their desire to retaliate. Does this Mr. Huffman know you have a sister in Bristol? Suppose he sends police there to arrest you?”

  “But I am innocent!”

  “Can you prove it? How can you prove you did not pawn his watch once you got to London?”

  A chill worked its way down Rosalyn’s back. “I hadn’t thought of that. Do you suppose he really would do such a thing?”

  “I believe, from what you have told me, that it is possible. That’s why I would counsel you to wait awhile. Allow time for his anger to dissipate and his mind to focus on something else. Or someone else.”

  Rosalyn knew what she meant. Mr. Huffman would likely seek out another victim. But that was beyond Rosalyn’s control. As was so much about her life right now. “But I don’t see how I can stay in London. I have nothing to live on. Nowhere to live.”

  “You can stay with me—at least until I leave for America. By then I’m sure we can find someplace suitable for you. And as for money, that part is easily solved. We’ll talk to Miss Lenoir. She has to hire someone to replace Lilly. I don’t see why it can’t be you.”

  Rosalyn considered Jessie’s words. Although she truly longed to see Julia, she couldn’t deny the possible danger of Mr. Huffman tracking her down. And hadn’t Rosalyn thought, as she watched the show last night, how marvelous it would be to work at such a place?

  Jessie eyed her sympathetically. “I can see you are torn. How about this: You stay and work at the theater for the next two weeks. If at the end of that time you still feel you should go to Bristol, you will have the money you need to do so.”

  It seemed like the perfect compromise. Rosalyn smiled and nodded.

  “Excellent!” Jessie clapped her hands in excitement.

  Later, after a delicious meal, they left the pub to walk home. As she matched Jessie’s pace, Rosalyn began to feel the rhythm of the city. Although the shops were closed because it was Sunday, the streets were busy with pedestrians and traffic. Rosalyn enjoyed glancing at the window displays as they walked. One shop in particular arrested her attention. She paused, staring through the window at a display of secondhand household items.

  “See something interesting?” Jessie asked.

  “I just remembered something I overheard at the brothel,” Rosalyn said. “Mrs. Hurdle talked about being able to pawn stolen goods without being caught. Later, I was forced to give her my mother’s watch. I thought I’d never see it again. But now . . .”

  She pressed her face to the glass, trying to make out what else was in the shop. On the far wall she saw a case filled with watches and jewelry, but it was too far away to see any of the items distinctly.

  “Ah, I understand,” said Jessie. “You think perhaps the watch might show up at a pawnshop?”

  “Yes!” Rosalyn smiled as this idea took hold. “Since I’ll be in London for a while, perhaps I could find the watch.” With a sigh she added, “It would be worth any price to have it back again.”

  “Did this woman say which pawnshop she frequented? There are dozens and dozens in London.”

  Rosalyn felt her initial excitement fade a little. “No. That is, not exactly. She did mention a man’s name—Simon.” She took a step back to read the shop name painted above the window: Whitby and Son.

  “Simon could be either a first or last name,” Jessie observed.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow. If the watch isn’t here, perhaps I can ask the owner if he knows
of a pawnbroker named Simon.”

  Rosalyn was happier than ever that she had decided to stay in London.

  Nate helped load the plastering equipment and leftover supplies onto the wagon. He was tired but satisfied at the work he and two other men from his church had been able to accomplish at the parsonage. He paused for a moment to wipe his brow, still sweating from the afternoon’s efforts despite the chill in the air. He happened to look down the street, and another kind of chill reached him. On the corner where the church’s charity house stood, he saw the man who had troubled Rosalyn at the train station.

  Actually, Nate couldn’t be sure it was him, because the man was some distance off. His cap was pulled low and his coat collar turned high, almost obscuring his face. He gave no direct indication that he’d seen Nate, but he did begin to walk away with measured swiftness. In a moment he had turned the corner and was out of sight.

  Nate ran to the corner, intending to catch him up, but it was impossible to see very far down the narrow, crooked lane the man had turned onto. Men and women stood at their doors, chatting with their neighbors, while ragged children played tag, darting in and out of dozens of lines of drying clothes and sheets. The man had disappeared.

  Nate rapidly walked the length of the lane, but the other end opened onto a thoroughfare and there was no sign of the man. Still, the incident disturbed him. Nate had assumed the encounter he’d interrupted at Paddington had been the usual case of a ruffian trying to pick up a vulnerable woman. Once deterred, he would simply look for someone else. Rosalyn had clearly left with the old woman, so why would the man think he’d find her here? And why would he be following her? Nate couldn’t make sense of it. Perhaps it had been a good thing Rosalyn had gone home with Jessie last night. At least it meant she was far from here.

  As soon as they returned to Jessie’s lodgings, Jessie opened her wardrobe and began to sort through her gowns. “I really must prepare for tonight’s event. It’s important that I look my best.”

  “Can you tell me what it is?” Rosalyn asked.