The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection (49 page)

“
In your left
hand.”

Good grief, where has my
mind gone?
“I beg your pardon, Your
Grace.”

Forcing his mind to the present, he tied the
cloth around the duke’s neck, expertly arranging the front knot
under his chin. He breathed a sigh of relief when his employer
nodded in satisfaction.

“
Thank you, Townley. The
duchess tells me this might be the day our son or daughter arrives.
I want to be ready.”

Robert envied the duke. Surely his child
would be received with love and treated with care. For years the
duke had struggled to revive the shambles of the estate his father
had left him, but even in his darkest days, he’d never treated
anyone with anything but respect. It was too bad they couldn’t
bring Andy to the rented house. In a few months, when the duke was
finished with his duties at Parliament and the doctor had
proclaimed it safe for the babe to travel, the family would return
to the Bartlett estate in Lincolnshire. There would be lots of room
and fresh air for the young boy to run about safely, and plenty of
food in the kitchen.

It was really too bad…

“
Townley, the duchess and I
thought it might be a good idea to allow each child to bring one or
two adults along to the Christmas party. It occurred to me that if
my young child received an invitation to a party in another part of
the city, I certainly wouldn’t send him alone. These parents
deserve to come along and see what their children are doing,
especially those who attend the lessons each night.”

“
Very good, Your Grace. If
we seat the parent to the right of each child, that would make it
easier for the serving platters to be passed along.”

“
I hadn’t thought of that,
but you’re right. Would you please inform the children and their
parents tonight?”

“
Yes, Your
Grace.”

“
Excellent. Now I suppose
I’d better make an appearance at Parliament. Sometimes it’s a
blessing that I can’t hear all the babbling that goes on. If I
don’t want to hear their arguments, I don’t have to look at them.”
He chuckled. “I never thought I’d see the day when I regarded that
shooting accident as a blessing.” He looked up at Robert. “You
remember how I was. Angry at the entire world and certain I would
never know happiness. I was wrong. Thanks for staying with me,
friend.” He patted Robert on the shoulder and left.

~~~~

A few hours
later, Phillip returned, having been hastily
summoned. The newest Peartree was about to make his or her
appearance. Phillip burst into the house and raced to his wife’s
side. Defying convention, he refused to leave, even when the
midwife tried to shoo him out.

Like the rest of the staff, Robert awaited
the news. Through the day and into the night, he kept himself as
busy as he could in his master’s chambers, checking and rechecking
the duke’s wardrobe. The duke’s evening clothes hadn’t been used,
so Robert put them away and laid out his nightclothes. Every
article of clothing had been checked and re-checked. It was evident
the duke had no intention of leaving the house until his heir made
an appearance. Feeling helpless and at a loss, Robert wandered
toward the duchess’ bedchamber, scattering the handful of maids who
crowded around the door waiting for news.

Now what? He didn’t dare knock or enter. He
settled for pacing in front of the doorway. Finally, the door
opened and a weary Jeanne stepped out. Most of her hair had escaped
the pins and her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, but he knew
he’d never beheld a more beautiful woman.

“
Has the child
arrived?”

The edges of her mouth curved upward, and
her eyes shone, reflecting her happiness on the rest of her face.
“Yes. A son. He’s beautiful.”

Phillip came to the door then. “Townley,” he
called. “I thought I heard your voice out here. Come in. You must
see him. He’s a little miracle.”

Come in? The duchess has
just given birth, for heaven’s sake. Is he daft?
“I-I really shouldn’t—”

“
Come, come.” The duke, it
appeared, had no such qualms. “I’ve never seen anything like
this.”

Robert lagged behind Phillip, not wanting to
see anything… inappropriate. His unease settled as he got to the
bedside and heard Amelia’s voice.

“
Robert, it’s quite all
right for you to be here. Everything messy has been cleared away,
and I am covered now.”

He breathed easier and looked up. Amelia’s
hair was in disarray, and she looked somewhat pale, but her face
shone with an ethereal glow. In her arms lay a tiny bundle no
larger than a loaf of bread, and if that loaf hadn’t blinked its
eyes he wouldn’t have recognized it as a tiny human being.

He didn’t know how long he stared, but the
tiny creature seemed to understand he was being scrutinized and
stared back. Dark eyes, almost black, held his gaze. A solemn
stare. All-knowing.

“
Isn’t it wondrous,
Townley?” Phillip asked. The duke sat on the other side of the bed.
He reached out and gently caressed the baby’s cheek. Robert noted
tears in Phillip’s eyes and felt his own throat close up. Was this
how his parents had felt when he was born? He vowed to protect the
little Peartree as fiercely as he had his father.

“
Wondrous, indeed,” he
whispered.

“
Robert?” Amelia’s voice
lingered on the edge of his notice.

“
Mmm?”

“
Would you mind… letting
the staff know?”

Let the staff know. The
staff, of which he was a member.
Remember
your place, Robert.
His father’s words hit
him like a douse of cold water and brought him out of his
musing.

He cleared his throat. “Yes, Your Grace.
Right away.” He turned on his heel and left. He would deliver his
message and then search out a certain lady’s maid.

The duke and duchess had found their
happiness. It was time for Robert Townley to pursue his.

Jeanne came back up the stairs, carrying a
pile of fresh linens. She blessed him with a smile. “Have you seen
the little one?”

“
I have,” he replied. “And
I realize it is high time I secure a family of my own. I feel we
would suit. Would you grant me the honor of becoming my
wife?”

Despite his years of training at Jackson’s
Saloon, he wasn’t prepared for the blow Jeanne delivered to his
mid-section. Blast. What had he done now?

Robert made his
way down the dingy street, searching for the thin,
flimsy doorway where he’d left Andy and his mother. He knew it was
close by. It had been nearly a week, and he’d finally arranged a
half-day off. The street and its inhabitants looked even shabbier
in the light of day. Could he be on the wrong street? It seemed the
hovel Andrew and his mother lived in was right about
here…

“
Mister, are you lost? I
kin ‘elp ye find whatever ye like, fer only tuppence.”

Robert stared at the child. He was dressed
in a ragged coat two sizes too small and trousers too large, and
deep-set eyes gave his face an aged look, as though he’d known more
heartache than one his age should. Robert reached in his pocket,
pulled out a coin, and tossed it to the boy.

“
There was a little boy
named Andy and his mother living near here. Do you know where they
are?”

“
Andy? ’Ow old were
’e?”

“
Eight, perhaps
ten.”

“
Right. A little scamp. I
think they were ’ere, but when ’is mum died ’e went
away.”

“
She died? Where did Andy
go? Is someone else caring for him?”

The boy shrugged, but a little girl sidled
up beside him. “’E was cryin’ and cryin’ for days, ’e was. Didn’t
want ta leave ’is mum. But the men came with a big wagon and took
’em away.”

“
Took… both of
them?”

“
I think they took Andy up
there, after they dumped off his mum.” She pointed to the opposite
end of the street where the tall spires of the Bishopsgate
Workhouse could be seen.

Robert shuddered. The poor lad had not only
lost his mother, he’d had to see her body “dumped off” like
garbage. And now he was to be brought up in the workhouse.

He’d heard about those places. They took in
the homeless, children as well as adults. The residents were fed
and trained for work. But it wasn’t a life he’d want for himself or
any child of his.

Disheartened, he made his way back to the
townhouse.

~~~~

From her seat
at the servants’ table, Jeanne watched as Robert
ate, seemingly lost in thought. It was unlike him. Normally, he did
everything with a purpose.

Like asking me to marry him.

The way he’d proposed still rankled. But she
didn’t like seeing him looking so somber, either. He’d had the
morning off. What had happened? Perhaps he was apprehensive about
tonight’s lesson at the Cathedral.

She finished her meal and rose to make her
way back upstairs.

“
Miss Brown.” Robert’s
quiet voice stilled her. Something was amiss. She turned a
questioning gaze to him.

Robert rose. “I went to visit Andy this
morning. I’d forgotten until today that I’d promised to bring him
food and blankets.”

“
Oh, I’m so glad. Is his
mother improved?”

He shook his head. “She’s dead.”

Jeanne’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh dear.
What will become of Andy?”

“
According to one of the
neighbors, he’s been taken to the Bishopsgate
Workhouse.”

A chill went up Jeanne’s spine. The
workhouse! She’d listened in horror as one of the maids described
her time there after arriving in London. The conditions had been
deplorable for her as an adult. But for a child — unthinkable.

“
What about Andy’s father?
It seems he should be charged with murder.”

“
I don’t know. I doubt he
will face charges. But he certainly isn’t fit to raise his
son.”

“
I agree. Still, I don’t
like the idea of Andy all alone in that place.” She could identify
with loneliness. Had her brother, too, been sent to a workhouse?
Perhaps she should have gone there personally to look for Pierre.
But she hadn’t. Would the workhouse keep records of where they sent
the children who’d lived there?

She would worry about that later. “I’ve got
to find Andy,” she blurted.

“
What can you
do?”

“
I don’t know… perhaps I
can adopt him.”

“
Adopt — but how would you
care for him? You wouldn’t be able to remain here.”

“
I know that, but I can’t
let him stay there. He’s just a baby. I’ll have to go there and
find him.”

“
Jeanne — er, Miss Brown,
we aren’t certain he’s there. And if it’s that horrible, you
mustn’t go alone.”

“
But I must.”

“
Then allow me to go with
you.”

She stared at him then. “You would do
that?”

“
I — yes. I don’t wish to
see you come to any harm. If you go, please tell me when you’re
going so that I can arrange to accompany you.”

“
My next morning off is
Sunday.”

“
Then I will arrange to be
available. Remember — do not go without me or one of the
footmen.”

She nodded.

Her heart still ached for poor Andy, but she
felt better knowing there was a plan.

~~~~

Robert’s head spun.
What had he just promised? He knew that going to
Bishopsgate could be an exercise in futility. The boy might be
there, and he might not. And he might be overworked or harmed by
the time they found him. If Andy was to be found, they couldn’t
wait until Sunday. He needed to go — or send someone who could get
the information they needed.

Someone like a Bow Street Runner. Or maybe
someone else…

He had a few hours before he would need to
attend to the duke’s wardrobe for dinner. He made a fast trip to
his room to change his clothes then slipped out of the townhouse
and quickly made his way to Bond Street.

He entered Jackson’s Saloon and hurried up
the stairs to look for Ralph. Fortunately, his friend had just
finished a training session with a client.

“
Robert, it’s good to see
you again. Ready to go another round?”

“
Perhaps, but I need to
talk.”

“
Strip your shirt off and
talk while we’re sparring.”

Knowing his friend meant business, he did as
he was told. Between punches, he explained to his friend what he
needed.

“
I think I can help you,”
Ralph said. “I know one of the matrons at Bishopsgate. We were…
friendly at one time.”

Robert hid a grin. Ralph had been “friendly”
with more women than he could count. But if one of them could help
locate Andy, he’d kiss the woman himself.

“
Excellent. Let me know
what you find out. And… I’ll pay you for your time.”

“
You’ll do no such thing. I
spent the worst years of my life at that place. If you’re willing
to take on responsibility for one of those poor children, we need
to find him now. Tell me what I need to know and I’ll send word
when I find him.”

Half an hour later, Robert wiped his sweat
away and dressed for his return to the Bartlett townhouse. The
December winds had picked up and the sun had begun its descent.
Daylight hours were at their fewest in mid-December, with less than
eight hours of daylight. He nodded to the lamp lighter, busy with
his nightly task of illuminating the streets. The aroma of a savory
meal floated to him through an open kitchen window, reminding him
of his duties. He quickened his steps. Whether or not the duke
chose to dress for dinner, his valet should be available.