by Galen, Shana
He’d find a position in the government of Canada. He knew how government offices worked. Bridget could give drawing lessons, and they’d find a school for James. There would be more children—girls and boys who would bring them joy and perhaps frustrate them as well. He wouldn’t have to watch his back any longer. He wouldn’t have to hide.
Caleb glanced out from behind the pillar, watching the door to the hospital more keenly now. A few minutes later, Bridget emerged. She looked about, and he stepped out from the pillar long enough for her to spot him before ducking back again. Her face had broken into a beatific smile, and he knew without having to be told that she had the information she wanted.
“I know where he is,” she said, darting behind the pillar. “Rather, where the orphanage is. I suppose there’s no guarantee James will still be there.” She told him the street, and he nodded. It was in a prosperous area of Town, but that didn’t mean he could relax his guard.
“Did you book passage?” she asked.
“Yes. We go to Ireland, then Canada.”
She nodded, looking both excited and scared. “I took my things to the academy this morning. I can send word to have them sent to the dock. I didn’t want to trust Mrs. Jacobs to do it. She’d probably charge me for her troubles.”
“There’s no doubt of that. Shall we go collect James?”
She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Caleb led the way, keeping her arm tucked in his and his head down. He still avoided the main streets, but the back alleys were mostly mews once they reached the West End.
“Two more blocks and we should reach it,” she said.
“You’ll finally see him again.”
She gripped his arm tightly, and he paused, glancing about at the grooms moving horses in and out of stables around them. No one seemed to be paying them much mind.
“What if he doesn’t remember me? He was so young.”
Caleb thought it unlikely the boy would remember her. “Then you start off as friends and earn his trust, and his love will follow.”
“He won’t be the same little boy I knew. He’ll be eight years old. I’ve missed so much.”
He squeezed her arm. “You did what you had to. You won’t miss a day more.”
She took a deep breath, then made a face because the air smelled strongly of manure. “I’m ready.”
They started forward, but had gone no more than two or three steps when two men stepped out from behind one of the buildings. Caleb stopped, pulling Bridget close to him. She immediately saw the danger and turned to go back the way they’d come, but two more men stepped into their path. “I’ll distract them,” he murmured. “You run to the orphanage. I’ll meet you. If I don’t, go back to the academy. You’ll be safe there.”
“But—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. He pushed her aside and ran for the two men in front of them. Taken by surprise, they fell back, and Caleb got in several punches before they came at him. Bridget tried to go around, but just as she had a clear path, the men approaching from the rear went for her.
Caleb let out a yell, broke away from the men he’d been fighting, and tackled one of the men after Bridget. He was surrounded now, four against one. The odds were not in his favor, but amid the volley of fists, he saw Bridget running toward the orphanage.
SHE DIDN’T STOP UNTIL she reached the Sunnybrooke Home for Boys. Even then, she couldn’t stop expecting the men who’d attacked Caleb to catch up to her. When they didn’t leap out from around the corner, she pressed herself against the wall and took several deep breaths. It wouldn’t do to arrive winded and disheveled.
She smoothed her skirts and hair, slowed her breathing, and said a quick prayer for Caleb. If those men killed him, it would be her fault. She’d persuaded him to take her with him. He could have been safely on a ship already if not for her.
Swallowing her fear, she tapped on the door and waited. Nothing happened, so she knocked more firmly. A moment later, she heard footsteps, and a young woman in a dress and apron opened the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m here about a boy. I had to leave him with this orphanage about five years ago. Now I’ve come to take him back.”
The maid blinked in surprise. Clearly, this did not happen often. Finally, she opened the door wider and motioned for Bridget to enter. “You’ll be wanting Lady Julia, I think. Come sit in the parlor while I fetch her.”
Bridget stepped inside a well-lit circular foyer surrounded by doors. One was open, and she could see the dining room, where the maid who’d opened the door must have been cleaning when Bridget had knocked. The room boasted two long tables where the children took meals. Windows looked out onto the street, and landscapes adorned the white, clean walls. Steps led to the upper floors. They were carpeted and bracketed by wooden railings that gleamed in the afternoon sunshine. If she hadn’t known this was a home for orphans, she would have thought it an academy like the one where she taught.
“Where are the children?” Bridget asked.
“The older ones are at their lessons, and the littles are up from their naps and having their tea.” She opened another door that led into a room painted pale blue. Comfortable chairs upholstered in cream damask were set in an inviting arrangement. “Wait here. May I ask the name of the child you seek?”
Bridget cleared her throat. “James. James Lavery.”
The maid furrowed her brow as though she didn’t know the name, but bobbed and closed the door. Bridget stood with her hands clasped as the sound of the woman’s shoes grew fainter and fainter. What if he wasn’t here? What if she and Caleb had risked everything and James wasn’t here? And Caleb—she’d left him fighting four men. What if he did not come to the orphanage? What if she lost both James and Caleb today?
Bridget crossed the small room to a window covered with white lace and framed by light blue draperies. She moved the lace aside and looked out on a small garden with ample room for boys to play. Indeed, several balls and a croquet set were spread about the lawn. Bridget prayed James would be here. Not only because she wanted to find him, but because she could see this was the sort of place where children were loved and cared for.
The door opened, and she spun around. A woman of medium height with coppery-red hair and large brown eyes stepped inside. “Good afternoon.” She had an upper-class accent, and the navy and white gown she wore was of the best quality. “I am Lady Julia. I’ve run Sunnybrooke these past four years.”
Bridget crossed to her and shook her hand. “Bridget Lavery. I left my son at St. Dismas about five years ago. My husband and I were to be sent to Fleet Prison, and I didn’t want James to suffer with us.”
“I see.” She gestured to the chairs, and Bridget sat on the edge of one. “Shall I ring for tea?”
“That’s not necessary, my lady. I just came for James. I paid off my debt, and I have a good job now and a place of my own. I’ve been looking for him, but the old orphanage wasn’t there.”
“It burned down, yes.” She lifted a file she held. “Sanders said you wanted James, but I think the boy you mean is the one we call Jimmy.”
“Jimmy, yes. We called him that when he was little.” Bridget’s chest tightened. “He’s still here?”
“He is.” She opened the file folder. “James Lavery was surrendered by his mother, Bridget, and his father, Robert, in 1814. Are you Bridget?”
“Yes.”
“And Robert?”
“He passed away in prison. To tell you the truth, he wasn’t James—Jimmy’s real father. His real father couldn’t be here this afternoon. He had some...government business to attend to. But he wants us to be a family, as do I.”
“Jimmy’s father works for the government?”
“You could say that. In fact, we’re thinking of sailing to Canada. I know it would be a big change for Jimmy.” She was rambling now, but she was so nervous and anxious to see Jimmy.
“It would, but he’s an adventurous boy. I don’t think he’d have
trouble adapting.” She closed the folder. “He’s always said you would come back for him. I don’t think any of us believed him, but here you are.”
“Then you’ll let me have him?”
“If he wants to go with you, yes. Everything you’ve said matches what I have in the file, even your description. I rarely see happy endings like this.” She rang a bell. “Let’s fetch him, shall we?”
The door opened, and the maid, Sanders, entered. “Yes, my lady?”
“Will you ask Jimmy to come down, please?”
“Jimmy?” Her eyes darted to Bridget. “Certainly, my lady.” She closed the door, and Bridget let out a shaky breath.
“You’re nervous. Don’t be. He’s a wonderful boy. He’s been waiting for you.”
“He’s been waiting a long time. I was afraid he’d think I forgot about him.”
“There might have been days when he felt that way, but a mother’s love can heal those small wounds.”
The sounds of thumping feet on the stairs drew their attention. “Ah, here he comes.”
Bridget stood, visibly trembling now. She’d never been so frightened in all her life. She clenched her hands together until her nails bit into her palms.
A knock sounded on the door, and then Sanders opened it, and a boy just over four feet with straight brown hair and bright blue eyes stepped inside. His gaze passed over Bridget and went straight to Lady Julia. “What’s wrong, my lady?”
Lady Julia smiled at him. “Nothing, Jimmy. In fact, I have very good news.”
His brows rose expectantly.
“For years, you’ve been saying your parents were in debtor’s prison and would come back for you.” He nodded. “This is your mother.” She gestured to Bridget. “She’s come back.”
The boy’s eyes flicked to Bridget, and she clasped her hands together so tightly it hurt. She tried to manage a smile, but it wobbled, and she felt tears in her eyes. “James—Jimmy,” she said. “I’m your mother, Bridget Lavery. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”
He stared at her, and she could see that he was working to try to remember her. She was trying to take the face she saw before her now and fit it against what she remembered of him as a baby. His face had grown and matured, but the eyes were the same, as was the nose and the expression he gave her. His hair had darkened, as she’d expected, and he looked fit and healthy.
“You’re my mother?”
She nodded. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He took a step closer. “Where’s my father?”
She looked down. “I’m afraid the man I was married to when you were born passed away in Fleet Prison. But your real father would very much like to meet you. He’s back from the war now, and you have his eyes.”
He touched his brow and took another step closer. “I do?”
“The very same.” A sob escaped her best efforts to hold it back. “James, I’m so sorry I had to leave you here. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know how you can forgive me, but if you’ll let me, I’ll never leave you again. I’ll be a good mother to you.”
He ran into her arms and hugged her fiercely. “Don’t cry. I know you didn’t want to do it. I knew you’d be back.”
Bridget cried all the harder because he was comforting her. “I never stopped loving you.” She took his face in her hands. “Never. Not for a day or an hour or a minute. I thought of you always.”
“I thought of you too, Mama.” He hugged her again, and she pulled him tight against her. They stayed like that for a long time. Bridget didn’t ever want to let him go. She had him in her arms again, those arms that had ached in their emptiness were filled once more.
“You smell the same,” he said quietly. She drew back and looked at him. “I don’t remember what you looked like, but I remember how you smelled. It’s the same.” Tears shimmered in his blue eyes, and she kissed them away.
“Jimmy,” Lady Julia said quietly. “Your mother would like you to go with her. In fact, I think she and your father have plans to travel to Canada. Do you want to go with her? You don’t have to go tonight. You can think about it. Take a few days to decide.”
Bridget took a deep breath. Caleb didn’t have a few days, but she could hardly force the child to leave everything he’d known at a moment’s notice.
“I want to go,” he said. “But can I say goodbye to everyone first?” He looked at Bridget.
“Of course. Tell them you’ll write and send presents from your travels.”
He smiled. “I will! I’ll be right back. Don’t leave without me.”
She sat in one of the chairs. “I won’t move from this seat.”
He ran up the stairs, his shoes clomping loudly, and Lady Julia shook her head. “I’ll go pack his things.” She wiped one eye. “I’ll miss him, and if anything ever happens, know that you can bring him back with no questions asked.”
“Thank you. And thank you for taking such good care of him.”
Lady Julia nodded and left Bridget alone. Bridget pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wept.
Eight
He’d fought as hard as he could until Bridget was safely away, and then he’d fought more. In the end, he was no match for four men. They’d bound him and dragged him away, all while startled grooms watched.
“I haven’t done anything to you,” Caleb argued as they shoved him inside a coach. “Let me go.”
“You’ve got a price on your head,” one of the men said. “And we all get a portion once you’re delivered.”
“I’ll pay you,” he offered as they wrestled him inside the conveyance.
“How much?”
“A guinea each.”
“We’ll make ten each when you’re delivered.”
They drove him to a house. He didn’t see where, as the coach’s curtains were drawn, but he knew they hadn’t traveled long enough to be out of London. They hauled him out, marched him through the empty house, shut him in an empty room, and locked the door.
Caleb sat on his heels and reached his bound hands into his boot, drawing out the knife there. The hired men hadn’t searched him, and that was their mistake. He had a few hours to make the most of their oversight, because the men who were coming for him wouldn’t make mistakes. He’d be dead by morning.
As Caleb struggled to turn the knife to a useful position, he studied the light coming through the drawn curtains. It was late afternoon now. Had Bridget found the orphanage? Had she found their son?
He finally had the blade in position and began to work it against his bindings. The rope was thick, and it would take time to cut through it. It was time he didn’t have. He desperately wanted to meet his son, to see Bridget again, to board that ship to Canada. The government might come looking for him, especially if what the grooms saw in the West End was made public. But by the time they tracked him down, he’d have washed up on the side of the Thames.
He had to cut these ropes. He sawed with renewed vigor, his fingers growing sweaty, until he dropped the knife.
JAMES—JIMMY HAD HELD her hand all the way back to the academy. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world to walk with his hand in hers, keeping him close to her side and safe from the coaches on the streets.
She carried his valise, which she didn’t think was his at all. It looked very much like the sort a lady of the ton might own. And that was just another kindness Lady Julia had done them.
“Will my father be waiting for us at this school?” Jimmy asked.
“I hope so, but I don’t know. He was a hero during the war, and now London is dangerous for him. That’s why we hope to go to Canada.”
“My father is a hero?”
“Yes. He was very important during the war. He might not be able to meet us if it’s too dangerous. In that case, we’ll stay in London. I have a room and enough money to buy us food and clothing and pay for your schooling.”
“I have clothing,” he said. “Lady Julia always made sure we had clothing. This shirt used to be Michael
’s. I don’t know who the trousers belonged to. The shoes are new, though. Lady Julia says we boys are hell on shoes.” He squeezed her hand. “But don’t tell her I said the H-word. I’m not allowed to say it.”
Bridget squeezed his hand back. “I won’t tell.” As she looked down at him, a wave of love swept over her. He was so sweet, so good, so beautiful. She’d never thought she’d have him back, but now that she did, she would never, never let him go.
Finally, just before dusk, they reached the academy. She led Jimmy inside and took him straight to the kitchens. Mrs. White was counting the silver, but her eyes widened when she saw Jimmy. “And who’s this love?”
“Mrs. White, this is my son, James Lavery.”
“You can call me Jimmy,” he said, sitting in a chair at the servants’ table.
“Well, you’re welcome, Jimmy. Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“Of course you’re hungry. A growing boy like you. Let me get you some bread and soup.”
“Jimmy, I’ll be right back,” Bridget told him. “I want to check on something.”
She ran upstairs and into the drawing room, where girls were sitting about, either studying or doing needlework or practicing picking locks. Bridget leaned inside and gestured to Valérie. The two ladies stepped outside. Bridget couldn’t help peeking through the windows, where darkness was rapidly falling.
“Did you find him?” Valérie asked.
“He’s in the kitchens.”
“Oh, I want to meet him!”
“You should. Has anyone come looking for me?”
Valérie shook her head. “If someone does come, your bags are ready to go. Are you really going to Canada?”
“I don’t know. I hope so. I left Caleb fighting off four men. I don’t know what’s happened to him.”
Valérie took her hand. “Surely if any man can escape, it is he.”
Bridget prayed that was true.
CALEB FELT THE ROPE give. His shoulders burned, and sweat dripped from his forehead. He’d dropped the knife more times than he could count, but finally he’d made progress. He yanked on the ropes, fraying them further, then slipped one hand free. He brought both hands to his chest, wincing in pain as numb muscles came awake again. He wanted to run out of the house as soon as possible, but he forced himself to wait until his arms ceased shaking and he had control of them again.
