***
Fin made his way through Southwark, headed toward The Anchor where he had a meeting that morning. Lord Bishop wished to commission a painting for his wife for her upcoming birthday, and he wanted to discuss the details in a place his wife would never be able to find him.
He turned the corner, headed for the south bank, and that was when he saw her. Victoria Barclay, running like a mad woman down Blackfriars Road. Though tied about her neck, her bonnet bounced against her back as she ran and her hair blew back, a messy victim of the high winds that day. The color in her cheeks was high—he could see they burned bright red, even at this distance from across the crowded street.
Fin had a mind to chase after her and give her a good paddling. What the devil was she doing? All alone in Southwark? This was no place for a lady to find herself, let alone be running with the devil’s speed through the street, attracting attention to herself. Had the girl finally gone mad?
Fin pulled his fob from his coat pocket. Five minutes until eleven. If he tracked her down and paddled her rebellious little behind, he’d never be on time for his meeting with Bishop. Blast. He had lost her already, anyhow. Damn the crowded streets.
If she made it home alive, he’d deliver the paddling then.
Seven
By the time Victoria reached Great Guildford and Southwark, her legs were nearly ready to give out on her. They wobbled like Cook’s aspic, but she couldn’t stop now. She needed to find Mrs. Potts and hope that the woman would be willing to help them.
She stood in the middle of the sidewalk, staring up and down the row of houses there, wondering which one might belong to Mrs. Potts. There weren’t any signs—physical or metaphysical—that pointed to any one door, so Victoria did what she had to do. She began knocking.
At the first door appeared a man whose assessment of Victoria made her feel as if she needed a bath. Certainly not who she was looking for. Door number two yielded no answer, and Victoria began to feel the pressure of the time. How many minutes had passed since she left the hospital? Twenty? Thirty? Too many, she was certain.
She scurried from the second door to the third and waited. No answer. She stepped off the step and was heading for the next house when she heard the door creak behind her. When she turned back, an old woman stared at her through the crack. Something told her this was the woman she sought.
“Mrs. Potts?”
“Who sent you?” she asked as Victoria moved closer.
“I need your help, madam. I’m told you’re a midwife.”
A wry smile came to the woman’s lips and she huffed a humorless laugh. “Something like that.”
“Please. We’ve a young girl in our hospital. Her labor pains are too close together and the only nurse who knows anything about childbirth is lying in bed with a fever.”
The woman looked Victoria over and said, “My fee ain’t cheap.”
“I didn’t expect it would be.”
Mrs. Potts’s brows rose, and then finally, she nodded her head. “Fetch a hackney. I’m not fit to walk long distances.”
Victoria did as the woman said and minutes later they were headed back for the hospital. Anna’s cries carried out into the street as they approached, and Victoria worried they might be too late. But Mrs. Potts didn’t move any more quickly.
“It’ll be any minute now,” she said calmly as they entered the hospital. “Upstairs, I take it?”
Victoria nodded at the woman and then watched as she slowly ascended the stairs. Sarah ran from the other room, her brow damp with sweat.
“Did you find a doctor?” the nurse asked.
“Something like that,” Victoria said as she stared up the stairs after Mrs. Potts. “All we can do now is pray.”
Less than thirty minutes later—thirty interminable minutes later—Anna’s cries were replaced by those of her baby. As Victoria spooned a mouthful of ipecac into another patient’s mouth, she took her first breath since she’d arrived at the hospital that day. Thank heaven for Mrs. Potts.
“Perhaps Mrs. Potts was our good luck charm today,” Sarah said, poking her head into the small room. “Molly’s fever has broken.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Victoria replied as she eased the young man back onto the pillows. “Well, then, it looks as if things are under control here. Will you be all right if I leave? Too much longer and Mother will become suspicious.”
“We’ll be fine, miss.” Sarah smiled warmly at her, though the poor girl looked as if she would fall over at any moment.
“When was the last time you slept, Sarah?”
“I can’t rightly remember, miss. Feels like a fortnight, though it’s probably more like two days.”
Two days. Victoria wanted to cry for the girl. She really did work too hard, and for very little in return. “I’ll be back as soon as I am able, Sarah. Try to get a bit of rest, will you?”
Sarah nodded, bravely attempting to hold back her tears. Victoria needed to act quickly. The hospital needed more money. A lot more money. Which meant she would have to attempt yet another robbery tonight.
The Robber Bride (Regency Historical Romance) Page 11
