An Honest Heart (23 page)

“You make me sound so much better than I am.” Caddy clasped Mother’s hands in hers. “I do wish to please you, but I do not know that I would sacrifice a lifetime of happiness or love to do so.” The corner of her mouth quirked up. “I can be just as stubborn as you if I want to.”

Mother laughed and squeezed Caddy’s hands. “Well, then, my stubborn child, before you devise a way to spite me just to prove me wrong, let us wash your hair and turn in for the night. And I will pray that love will sweep you off your feet.”

Caddy stood and hugged her mother. “And I will pray that my feet stay solidly planted, even if I do, one day, fall in love.”

Mother scrutinized her when she stepped back from the embrace. Caddy turned to pull the pot off the stove before kneeling at the tub and pulling the pins out of her hair. She feared she was well on her way to losing her footing when it came to a certain handsome doctor.

While Mother prayed her prayer, Caddy would pray that she did not come crashing back down to earth whenever Neal Stradbroke’s secrets were revealed.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

T
hese arrived for you a few minutes ago, Miss Bainbridge.”

Caddy tossed her shawl around her shoulders and detoured from her path to the front door to stop instead at the counter where Phyllis stood gazing at an elegant nosegay of flowers in shades of pink and purple tied up with a purple velvet ribbon that lay on a square of brown wrapping paper.

“I wonder who they’re from.” She did not need to ask; she already knew. She’d sent a spool of that same velvet ribbon over to Chawley Abbey a few days ago.

“There was no note, miss, other than the one with your name on it.”

“The messenger did not say who sent them?”

“They were on the front stoop when I arrived this morning.” Phyllis leaned both elbows on the counter to bend over and smell the flowers.

If they were there when Phyllis arrived, they must have been delivered before dawn. Why would Oliver Carmichael go to such trouble to send her flowers?

The rattling of a carriage out on the street drew Caddy’s attention from the blooms. “Have Nan take these upstairs. Mother will find a container for them.”

“Yes, miss.” Phyllis sounded disappointed that the flowers would not be hers to gaze at and smell all day. But Caddy did not want them drawing unnecessary questions.

“I am not certain what time I will be home. Let Mary know that Mother is not to wait for me for meals today.”

“Yes, miss.” Phyllis still did not look away from the pink rose she fingered longingly.

Caddy shook her head, hooked her reticule over her wrist, and tied her bonnet under her chin before stepping outside.

Johnny Longrieve hopped down from his seat. He looked as if he had not slept since the day of his father’s arrest—and as if anything he’d eaten recently might be making a return appearance very soon.

“Miss Bainbridge—a moment, please.” He took her hand and drew her away from the carriage.

Caddy gathered up words of encouragement and comfort, ready to assure the young man that his father would be treated fairly even if she had to fight for it with her last breath.

“Miss Bainbridge, before Dr. Stradbroke left, he asked me to take care of his chickens until he gets back from London. They’re in a coop in the garden behind the apothecary. But . . . depending on what happens today, I might not be able to. Would you do it for me?”

Caddy hoped the lurch she felt in her middle at the mention of Neal’s name—and at the idea of doing something nice for him—was not obvious to the boy. “Of course. But I do not believe it will be an issue. I fully believe your father will be coming home with us before the sun sets today.”

She couldn’t tell if Johnny’s grimace was of pain or disbelief. She patted his arm. “Come, let us be on our way, and this sad situation will soon be behind us.”

Johnny followed her back to the cab and helped her up into it. She greeted Mrs. Longrieve, whose stricken expression gave excuse for why the woman did not return Caddy’s salutation. Caddy reached for the baby, and Mrs. Longrieve handed her over with no protest. Caddy sat on the seat opposite and cuddled the baby up to her chest. The infant had been bathed and powdered and dressed in a pristine white gown Caddy was fairly certain had been the child’s christening gown. Ivy gurgled and cooed, the only happy creature in this sorry band of travelers.

At the castle, where Mr. Longrieve had been held since his arrest, Caddy handed the baby back to Mrs. Longrieve before expediting entry for the wife and son of the accused. She found out in which room the trial would be held and set off for it with confidence that was only partially an act. She knew her way around this prison, had been coming here since childhood. Although she had never been here for a trial that would determine the course of an entire family’s future.

The courtroom was small and crowded, and the unwashed bodies of the prisoners awaiting adjudication created a wall of odor Caddy had to force herself to push through. She found two seats in the gallery for herself and Mrs. Longrieve. Johnny stood in the back of the room with several other young men.

“When do you think my Thomas will be here?” Mrs. Longrieve craned her neck trying to see down the line of men waiting in the wings for their turn to stand before the judge.

“I do not know. I was told only that he would stand trial today. Hopefully, we will not have to wait too long.”

Caddy’s hope proved true—but that did not make her feel any better. As each man came before the bench, it became more apparent that “trial” was a generous description of what was happening. No matter what any man—or any solicitor, for the few who could afford them—said in his defense, the judge reached the same verdict. Guilty. Which was followed by the same sentence: penal transportation, seven years of hard labor, and lifelong banishment from England.

After two hours of men being run through the courtroom, Caddy was making faces to entertain baby Ivy when Mrs. Longrieve gasped and grabbed her arm. Caddy looked up.

Thomas Longrieve, dressed in clean clothes and hair neatly combed, stood tall and proud just inside the door. He scanned the room until he saw his wife. He closed his eyes and heaved a deep breath, as if the mere sight of her were enough to bring him peace and contentment.

Tears glistening in her eyes, Mrs. Longrieve lifted Ivy from Caddy’s arms and held her tightly, rocking back and forth on the hard, backless bench.

Envy twisted Caddy’s heart. Even in such dire circumstances, the Longrieves shared such love for each other that an exchanged look was all it took to communicate support and caring. Unbidden, Caddy imagined Neal standing in Thomas Longrieve’s position, and she knew that, in addition to being unable to hide her feelings for him, she would be unable to shield him from seeing her heart breaking.

She needed to face facts. She had fallen in love with Neal Stradbroke. Despite his secrets. Despite not knowing much about his family or his past. It did not matter. She knew his character, could see it in everything he did. She sensed his soul, for he put it in every word he spoke about his work and his desire to help people like those in Jericho. What difference did it make who his parents were or where he had grown up or what he had done before he came to North Parade?

None. All that mattered to her was knowing him and appreciating him for who he was now, for the kind of man he’d shown himself to be time and time again.

“Thomas Longrieve!”

Caddy straightened and put her arm around Mrs. Longrieve’s waist as Thomas stepped up to the defendant’s box.

The bailiff read the charges against Thomas. Several robberies in the North Parade and Jericho neighborhoods were mentioned. Caddy’s optimism of a positive outcome faded.

“What say you to the charges?” The judge did not look up from the stack of papers in front of him.

“I am guilty as charged.”

Mrs. Longrieve let out a low, keening moan and started rocking back and forth again.

“No!” Behind them, the crowd parted and Johnny pushed his way through to the front.

Caddy jumped to her feet and put herself in front of him. “Johnny, stop. It won’t help.”

But the seventeen-year-old, taller and heavier than Caddy, pushed her aside. He vaulted the balustrade that separated the onlookers from the court. Two burly bailiffs immediately grabbed him by the arms and started to drag him back to the gallery.

“My father is innocent!”

The judge called for order.

“My father did not do this, I say.” Johnny pulled away from the bailiffs and rushed to stand between his father and the judge. “My father confessed to these crimes to protect me. I am the one who broke into the homes and shops and stole the money.”

Mrs. Longrieve stood and shrieked. Caddy’s shock delayed her reaction so that she almost didn’t catch the woman before she fell to the floor in a swoon. She wrapped her arms around mother and baby and eased them back down to the bench with the help of a few nearby women.

An older woman produced a vial of salts, and within moments, Mrs. Longrieve began to regain her senses—in time to see the bailiffs lock her son in shackles.

The judge, from his lofty seat, watched the chaos unfolding as if he had a prime box at the theater. He looked as if at any moment he might rub his hands together in glee.

“What is your name, boy?” the judge boomed.

“John Longrieve, Your Honor.”

“John Longrieve, because you have confessed to the same crimes your father has confessed to, you will share his sentence. Thomas and John Longrieve are both sentenced to penal transportation to Australia, seven years of hard labor each, and banishment from England.” The judge pounded his gavel.

Mrs. Longrieve wailed and swooned again, this time leaning heavily into Caddy’s side. Caddy quickly recruited two of the helpful women to hold up Mrs. Longrieve before standing and rushing to the balustrade.

“Your Honor, if I may speak on behalf of Thomas and John Longrieve.” She had to yell to be heard above the cacophony in the courtroom.

“Request denied. Women are not allowed to speak in court!” The judge stood. “That is all for today.” He swept out of the room, pulling off his periwig and wiping the sweat from his brow with it—and he did not bother to hide his smile.

Neal, oh, Neal. Her heart yearned for his presence. If he had been here, things would have gone differently. He would have stopped Johnny from throwing his life away. He could have spoken on Thomas and Johnny’s behalf. If only he’d been here . . .

But he wasn’t. He’d gone away, just when he’d been needed the most.

It took quite some time to get Mrs. Longrieve to leave the castle, and even longer for Caddy to unhitch the cab and start leading the horses out of the enclosed courtyard. She did not feel comfortable driving the large conveyance—much larger than her father’s old curricle—through the crowd.

Outside the castle gates, she climbed up to the seat and snapped the lines, urging the mismatched but well-formed horses into a walk. Even over the noise of the street, she could hear both Mrs. Longrieve and the baby crying inside the coach.

Tears burned Caddy’s eyes, and she swallowed hard a few times, trying to keep her emotions in check. She needed to be strong for Mrs. Longrieve until something could be done to get her husband and son released.

By the time the cab passed the city wall on the way north out of Oxford, Caddy could not hold in her tears any longer. She let them stream down her cheeks freely, since she could not take her hands from the reins. Her bodice grew tighter and tighter, and she struggled for breath.

How could this have happened? Why had God involved her in this situation if there were nothing she could do to change the outcome? And why would Neal have made her trust him and look toward him for strength and help and then leave when he knew he was needed?

Thankfully, the horses knew their way back home, since Caddy paid little attention. She pulled them to a stop outside the small stable behind the Longrieve house. Before dismounting the high seat, Caddy wiped the moisture from her cheeks and chin with her sleeves and pressed her cold, rein-sore hands to her face for a moment, hoping to eliminate any signs of sorrow.

The coach door swung open, and fresh cries from Ivy reminded Caddy of her responsibility. After setting the brake, Caddy climbed down as carefully as she could, though the closed coach rocked and swayed with the horses’ stamping eagerness to return to their stalls. She reached the ground in time to take Ivy from Mrs. Longrieve as the pale, stricken-faced woman eased herself to the ground.

“Pack a bag for yourself and Ivy.” Caddy shifted the baby up against her shoulder and patted her back. “You are going to come stay with me for a few days until we get this situation sorted out.”

Caddy prepared herself for a fight, but Mrs. Longrieve shrugged and trudged into the house. Caddy packed clothes and other necessities for mother and child in the basket Ivy usually slept in during the day while Mrs. Longrieve sat on a kitchen chair, rocking back and forth, her eyes affixed on nothing.

It took some cajoling to get Mrs. Longrieve back into the cab, but with Ivy securely in her mother’s arms, Caddy drove them back to North Parade and stopped at the livery, where she arranged for the horses and cab to be cared for. Hooking one arm through the handles of the basket and the other through Mrs. Longrieve’s free arm, she led the grieving woman down the street to the shop.

“Once you are feeling better, we will see what we can do about you returning to your house. But until then, Mother and I will take care of you and Ivy.”

Mrs. Longrieve made no sound in response, but fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Perhaps there is something you can do to help out around the shop. I’ve found that industrious hands help one to think more clearly and . . . well, it’s better to stay busy, isn’t it?” After Father’s death, Caddy had thrown herself into sewing, and she credited the activity of hands and mind with helping her through her grief. The same would be true for Mrs. Longrieve, she was certain.