Fortune’s Final Folly

by McKnight, Christina

  Joshua had made such calls before, both in person and via letter with his company signature. This was no different.

  Kate slipped the envelope into the front of her apron, opened a book, and began reading to her pupils as each and every little face tuned into her every word.

  If he stayed any longer, Joshua feared he’d fall in line with them, take a seat, and never leave, content to lose himself in the melodic lilt of Kate’s voice as she read her tale.

  He shook his head, gave the room at large a small wave, and departed, making his way down the walk to the cobbler’s shop instead of crossing the street. He paused at the shop’s threshold as the man he’d noticed loitering on the walk near the butcher’s shop threw Joshua a quick glance over his shoulder and started off down the street in the direction of Vicar Elliott’s parish.

  Chapter 2

  Miss Katherina Elliott did her utmost to keep her eyes from straying toward Mr. Stuart as he left the schoolroom. If anyone listened carefully, they’d note her tone was a bit stilted and raised as she read from Gulliver’s Travels. Thankfully, her pupils were more engaged with the adventure of the story as opposed to what had transpired as they arrived for their morning lessons.

  Though the story fell from her lips without hesitation, her nerves were certainly frazzled from Mr. Cuttlebottom’s visit. His anger was becoming concerning, even though Kate had known the man and his family her entire life. He’d never proven prone to violence or unrest of any kind before. He was upset, and though Kate was unaware of any dealings between him and her father, she could not blame the elderly man for feeling slighted. Over the last year or so, the gentile man who’d called her father friend had been replaced by an angry tyrant who truly believed she’d stolen something from him. She prayed nightly that it was only a matter of time before he saw reason, and their association could return to friendlier terms.

  The last thing Kate wanted was Mr. Stuart becoming entangled in the situation.

  Though her father had implored her to always trust the solicitor and heed his advice, Kate hadn’t the spare funds to pay his service fees. Certainly, hiring a solicitor required a sizeable amount of coin. Slipping her hand into the apron tied at her waist, her fingers grazed the envelope he’d delivered to her. It was a few days later than she’d anticipated. Many debts had been incurred over the last several months that she needed to settle: her tab at the mercantile, the butcher, the candlemaker. And she desperately needed the heel on her boots mended but could not bring herself to visit Mr. Cuttlebottom’s cobbler shop nor spare the coin to journey to Smithe’s shop several streets over.

  As well as teaching the children, she often provided them with a hot meal before they returned home since many of their families worked as tirelessly as she did to make their money stretch far enough to keep the hearth burning at night. Sending her pupils home with empty stomachs was not something Kate would allow if she could, in any way, prevent it.

  “Miss Kate,” a tiny voice interrupted. “Which side of the egg do you crack?”

  She blinked, silently re-reading the passage she’d finished without realizing it. “The middle, Constance, I crack the middle.”

  “Well, I think the larger end is far more suitable,” Peter, her eldest pupil, declared, his voice already deepened. A boy on the cusp of manhood. “It is what my father would have done.”

  Kate smiled. “I am certain you are correct, Peter. However, I hold to my position on the matter.” She closed the book and set it aside. “Older children, please open your primers to your arithmetic section. Younger children, practice your numbers on your boards.”

  As they set about their assignments, Kate moved to the front of the room and sank into the rocking chair her father had crafted for her mother. Her fingers traced the etchings on the side of the armrests. She missed her parents with a fierceness that consumed her most nights. The cobbler’s ranting and raving did naught but remind her that she was alone, left to find her own way in this hectic, unpredictable world.

  If only she’d had a few more years with her parents, mayhap things would have been different. Perhaps if she’d complied with her father’s wishes, she’d have found a suitable gentleman and wed. Maybe she should have followed her mother’s wishes and sold the building, moved out of London, and settled in a small village where she could grow her own food and mayhap even procure a dairy cow for fresh milk and cheese.

  Kate feared it was too late for such maudlin musings. Besides, the children needed her. They counted on her for their education, and Kate would not let them down. Ever.

  Mr. Cuttlebottom would not best her in this situation, nor would she allow him to continue ruffling her feathers as her mother was fond of saying.

  She glanced around the room, focusing on the stairs at the rear that led to her residence. Though her parents had said she hadn’t been born in Cheapside, Kate had never known any other home. She’d taken her first steps in the residence above. She’d learned to read in this very room. And she’d sought her prayers each day in her father’s parish a few doors down the lane.

  The building was brimming with memories—both joyous and heartbreaking.

  Though her mother and father had wanted something more, something better for her, Kate was content with her place in the world. She knew her role well, and she excelled at teaching.

  She was a schoolmistress. It mattered naught that her schoolroom did not boast a fancy name or that her pupils did not possess shiny, tailored uniforms. It was hers and hers alone.

  Cheapside was her home. This room and the ones above were all she’d ever known.

  And she cherished them ever more, knowing her parents had worked their entire lives to give her this place and her position. Never would she need depend on a man for her survival. Never would she need wed a man and hand over what little she had as a dowry.

  Kate would continue as she had since taking over the schoolroom from her mother. The mysterious envelopes she received every three months would go to cover the necessities, and everything else would have to wait. Wait for what, Kate was uncertain.

  Leaning forward, she picked at the heel of her half boot as it pulled away from the sole. They would not be mended anytime soon. The schoolroom needed heat, the children needed food, and there were always new supplies to purchase. How was she to educate her pupils without books, maps, and primers?

  An idea dawned. If she let out the bottom hems of her dresses, the skirts would reach the floor and keep hidden the travesty of her boots. The notion was silly. The children did not notice her threadbare gowns or worn footwear. Why was she so concerned with it?

  She glanced toward the window that looked out over the street as a man walked before her schoolroom, briefly glancing in at her before continuing on his way. The stranger moved out of view when Kate focused the office opposite her with its sign that read: Solicitor.

  Her cheeks flushed with warmth at the familiar shingle swinging gently on its rusted hooks. Kate need not stand below it to know it creaked softly as it moved in the breeze.

  How many mornings had she watched Mr. Stuart arrive at his office in his fancy enclosed coach? How many times had she rushed to the window in her bedchamber in hopes of catching a glimpse of the man as he departed at the end of the day? How many days had she been disappointed when he hadn’t arrived to work at all?

  Far too many to count, Kate feared.

  Mr. Joshua Stuart was a properly learned man who had studied law at Oxford.

  Kate was merely the daughter of a lowly vicar and a school teacher, educated enough to teach the basics of arithmetic, spelling, and geography, but not sufficiently learned for University.

  Despite both of their presences in Cheapside, they were not part of the same world.

  Many nights, she wondered where he went at the end of his working days, or where he was when he didn’t arrive at his office in the morning.

  She sighed, returning her focus to the children and their studies.

  Never had she b
een unsatisfied with her life. Kate had been raised in her father’s image—a pious woman who did not covet excessive possessions. Did not dream of places she’d never visit. And she would not tarnish her father’s memory by doing so now. She’d been blessed with the necessities, and that was enough for her…far more than most in Cheapside possessed, certainly.

  A tug at her elbow drew her attention.

  “Miss Kate,” Zachariah whispered, leaning in close, his brow furrowed with concern. “Why are you sad?”

  “Why ever do you think me sad?” Kate kept her tone low so as not to disrupt the other students.

  “My mama sighs just like you whenever she thinks of my papi being gone.”

  “Your papi will return from sea soon, I am certain of it.” Kate attempted to steer the conversation away from her.

  “My mama says the same thing, but that doesn’t stop her from crying when she thinks I be sleepin’.” At only five, Zachariah had experienced more uncertainty and loss than boys thrice his age should. His father had left on a trading ship bound for the West Indies nearly two years earlier, and the vessel—with captain and crew—had not been heard from since. “Don’t be sad, Miss Kate.”

  She fought against the tears welling, threatening to betray her feelings to the boy.

  “Seeing you each day keeps the sadness away,” Kate replied cheerfully. “How can I be sad when I am surrounded by the brightest, kindest, and most charming children in all of London?”

  Zachariah snickered, dipping his head.

  Kate stood, clapping her hands to draw the attention of the entire room as the boy returned to his seat. “Children,” she announced, the weight of the envelope in her apron reassuring. “I think we should journey from the schoolroom today.”

  “Where to?” shouted Sally Ann, always easily excitable. “Please, tell us.”

  “The museum?” Constance guessed, bobbing in her seat.

  “No, Tattersalls,” the boys asserted in unison as they enjoyed watching the grooms at work on the horses.

  “How about we walk to Albert’s Bookshop and select, together, our next book to read?”

  The expressions on a few tiny faces fell in disappointment, but still most seemed overjoyed by the idea of departing the classroom even for a short while.

  Kate did not often leave the schoolroom with all her pupils in tow, but today it seemed she needed the outing as much as the children.

  The bookseller was only a quick walk down the street. On numerous occasions, after the children had left for the day, Kate would travel the short distance and browse the shelves until the owner closed for the night. She did not often have extra coin to buy books for her own reading; however, Mr. Albert allowed her to enjoy the books in the store as long as she did not bend the bindings or wrinkle the pages.

  On a normal day, Kate would not so readily decide to spend her spare coin. Yet, they’d soon be finishing Gulliver’s Travels and would need another book to keep them occupied.

  “Collect your coats and hold hands with your partner.” They’d established rules for such outings. Younger pupils were each paired with an older child. They lined up in a double line and were never to let go of their partner’s hand until Kate instructed. Everyone did as told and clasped hands as Kate slipped into her cloak and fastened the brass button near her throat. “Is everyone ready?”

  The children all smiled, nodding.

  She took the key from the hook near the front door and locked up after the final pair had departed the schoolroom. While her father had been a trusting vicar, he’d always taught her to secure the building if she left—or when she retired above stairs. It was all the more important with Kate living alone, not that it was common knowledge that she resided above the schoolroom without a companion or maid.

  The group began down the street at a brisk pace, and Kate kept her eyes trained on the lane ahead of her, her shoulders back as they passed Mr. Cuttlebottom’s cobbler shop. The man would not intimidate her. He would not cause her to hide within her home or place of business.

  Despite her father’s lesson on piety, her mother had given her the confidence and strength needed to live in a world she could not control by teaching her that her actions, emotions, and path were solidly within her grasp. She could not control others, but Kate held sway over her reactions.

  That was why she never allowed her emotions to take over when the cobbler confronted her.

  In her heart, she feared that her father may have spoken of an arrangement to sell her home to the cobbler. But her mind knew that even if he had, there was no written record of the transaction or her father’s intent, which meant Kate was safe.

  The door to Mr. Cuttlebottom’s shop swung open as she walked past behind the rows of children. She flinched, hoping the old man didn’t bring his complaints into the street for all to hear. Most of her pupils lived within a few blocks of the schoolroom, and she could not have her neighbors gossiping about her private affairs. Many were hesitant to trust their children with a schoolmistress at all. Kate wanted nothing to jeopardize her pupils’ ability to gain as much knowledge as possible before they grew old enough to work.

  To Kate’s shock, it was Mr. Stuart who departed the cobbler shop, not Mr. Cuttlebottom.

  “Good day, Miss Kate,” he greeted, tipping his head to her as she passed. “Enjoy your walkabout.”

  “Lovely to see you again, Mr. Stuart.” Kate nodded but did not stop to inquire about his presence at the cobbler’s. He, as any person in Cheapside must, had the need to visit the cobbler’s shop every now and again. The soft flapping of her boot sole reminded her of this fact.

  Instead, she followed the children as they marched on, suppressing the urge to glance over her shoulder to see the solicitor continue across the street to his office. A small part of her wondered if he’d be staring at her if she turned back, his intense, dark eyes locked on her progress.

  Kate shook her head and slipped her gloved hands into the pockets of her cloak, denying herself the irrational urge.

  Her father had lectured her often on the evils of wayward thinking and daydreaming about people and places the good Lord would never bless the likes of Kate with. No, it was always best to focus on what she had been blessed with in her life as opposed to what she longed for.

  Chapter 3

  Joshua had all but taken up residence at his Cheapside office since he’d spoken with Cuttlebottom three days ago. The cobbler had been less than responsive to his well-worded warning that Joshua handled all of the woman’s business matters and the man should stay clear of Miss Katherina Elliott and her schoolroom. When the elderly man challenged him as to what might happen if he disregarded the sage advice, Joshua had hastily threatened to have the magistrate summoned. The foolish man had dared him to send for the authorities.

  Dared him!

  Instead of doing as he threatened, Joshua had retired to his office and searched the entire building for any record of Kate’s father’s intentions to sell his building to Cuttlebottom. There was none. Not a single document had been written by the vicar or Joshua’s uncle about any such transaction. His concern had been so great that Joshua had sent his assistant to look through the old files at his Bond Street office, as well.

  Nothing. Not a single slip of paper to corroborate Cuttlebottom’s claims.

  Yet, he could not go to Kate about the matter since she’d pleaded with him to refrain from speaking with anyone regarding the argument he’d witnessed.

  He’d kept watch of the schoolroom from sunup to sundown, and Joshua was pleased to note Cuttlebottom hadn’t returned to harass Kate. Perhaps the man knew full well that there was no proof of Vicar Elliott’s intentions to sell the building, and he’d simply taken to pestering the woman out of spite. Or, mayhap due to old age and misremembered conversations. Joshua knew firsthand how cantankerous men could become as they aged. He’d seen it with his own father. So much so that Joshua had moved from the family townhouse in Belgrave Square to his far more modest acco
mmodations in Cavendish Square, the home formally belonging to his paternal grandmother.

  Henry cleared his throat at Joshua’s side, pulling him from his musings. He glanced up to see his assistant prepared to depart for the evening, a satchel over one shoulder, and his eyelids heavy.

  “Go home, Henry.” Joshua attempted to direct a stern glare at the younger man; however, he was as tired as Henry was. “You need rest and a hearty meal.”

  Henry shifted from one foot to the other, his hands gripping the strap of his satchel. “Are you certain, my lord? I could remain for another hour or so and help you. There is the Goosestein matter, and…”

  Joshua glanced at the spare desk nearest the front window, the one with a clear view of Kate’s schoolroom. The surface appeared cluttered with much to do; he hadn’t accomplished anything in days—except keeping an eye trained on the buildings across the street.

  “No, no,” he said, waving his hand. “I was about to leave for the evening, as well.”

  “Very good, my lord,” Henry dipped his head. “I will be in first thing in the morning. Your calendar is in your office. Would you like me to send your coach around when I collect my horse?”

  Joshua had patched the roof and hired a groom to care for the stable behind his office. It was large enough to house four horses and his carriage. Since taking over the building a few years prior, he’d also come to possess a half-dozen cats who thrived on the mice that had once overtaken the small stable.

  Shaking his head, Joshua busied himself with stacking the folders he’d carried out to the front desk that morning to keep up the appearance of hours spent toiling over documents. “I planned to take my meal at Mr. Porter’s Inn down the road before journeying home.”

  “Very well. Good evening.” The bell chimed above the door as Henry departed.

  Joshua sighed, comfortable in the quiet solitude of his office. It was far simpler to feign work when no one was keeping a close eye on him. The sun was descending quickly, and the street between him and Miss Kate would soon be cast in deep shadows. No gas lamps lined the streets in Cheapside, and the night could be very unforgiving in its harshness. While Joshua made his living during the daytime hours, pickpockets, thieves, and miscreants thrived as soon as the sun set.