An Honest Heart (24 page)

Having her husband and son transported to Australia was the same as a death sentence, so Mrs. Longrieve had every reason to mourn.

Neal pounded on the door a third time, his anxiety increasing with each knock. He’d stopped at the castle on the way back from the train station. The visit with Thomas and Johnny Longrieve had been brief, but he’d learned everything he needed to know to move forward with his plan. But before putting it into action, he needed to talk to Mrs. Longrieve to make sure it would work.

Johnny—his protégé, the lad who’d made teaching someone to read too easy—had not been able to look Neal in the eye when he’d confessed his actions . . . and that he’d nearly let his father take the blame and the punishment.

Neal went around the row of narrow houses and let himself in through the back gate. The two-stall stable was empty and the cab was not parked on the patch of dirt where he’d seen it resting once or twice. He knocked on the back door. No answer.

Where could she be?

He went around to the front again.

The neighbor on the right stuck her head out the first-floor window of her house. “If you’re looking for Winifred and the baby, the fancy lady took them away the day of the trial. Haven’t seen them since.” She shoved a seedling into the soil of her window box with a force that made the contraption groan.

The
fancy lady
could only be one person. “Thank you, Mrs. Hendricks. If anyone needs me, let them know I am back from London.”

“Aye, that you are.” Her spade flipped some of the dirt out of the box. “And if you find Mrs. Longrieve, you tell her that we’re all praying for her man and boy.”

“I will, and I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” Neal picked up his valise and headed home, increasing his speed the closer he got to North Parade. When he’d first seen the recently developed street and buildings, he hadn’t thought much of the town. How, after little more than a month, had he come to view it so fondly?

Or was it not the location but a certain person living in it that drew him like a honeybee to its favorite flower?

He grunted . . . and quickened his pace yet again. The entire four days in London, he’d been unable to get Miss Cadence Bainbridge out of his mind. At first, his thoughts had been filled with guilt from not being able to tell her the truth. Then guilt shifted to a longing to see her again, no matter what retribution might wait for him at her hand. He’d been almost at her doorstep when he realized he should call upon Mrs. Longrieve first.

Little had he known he could have saved time by giving in to the temptation to see Caddy first.

On North Parade, he stopped two doors down—where he knew he could not be seen through the shop’s windows—and straightened his clothing and ran his fingers through his hair. Train ash fluttered down onto his gray traveling suit. He really should go home, wash, and change into fresh clothes before calling on Caddy—and before checking in on Mrs. Longrieve and the baby. But that would take time.

He brushed the flakes of ash from his coat and, straightening his shoulders, walked into Miss Bainbridge’s shop.

To his utter surprise, Mrs. Longrieve looked up from the main counter. Her face was harder, more lined, than when he’d seen her on Sunday afternoon.

“Dr. Stradbroke!” She came around the counter and held her hand out toward him in greeting. He clasped it and returned the light pressure of her squeeze.

“How are you, Mrs. Longrieve?” He turned her so that the light from the windows shone on her face. Her cheeks were pale and she had dark circles under her eyes, but her gaze held a fraction of hope.

“As well as can be expected. I suppose you know about Johnny?” She pressed a fist to her lips and looked away from him.

Neal squeezed her hand again before releasing it. “I assure you, I intend to do whatever is in my power to mitigate the situation. ’Tis why I came straight to see you after visiting with Thomas and Johnny on my way from the station.”

Winifred Longrieve lowered her fist and released a shaky breath. “It is so good to see you back safely. Miss Cadence has been worried about you. All of us were wondering when you might come back.”

His gut twisted in anxiety and excitement. “Is she—is everyone well? Have my services been needed?”

Mrs. Longrieve shook her head. “No. Other than anything you might be able to do to help Thomas and Johnny.”

She sounded so hopeful, Neal feared that his plan would be too much of a shock for her to bear. “Is Miss Bainbridge in? I need to speak with her.”

“She is in the workroom. Shall I take you there?”

“I know my way. Thank you.” He left his valise behind the counter, took a deep breath, and opened the door to the room where Caddy created the intricate fashions with which she supported so many people—her mother, Nurse Mary, the maid Agnes, the apprentices, Phyllis the shop girl, and now Mrs. Longrieve and baby Ivy. And she did it without complaint, as far as he could tell. He hoped that, perhaps, someday, he would be able to offer her the support she’d so long given to others.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

C
addy looked up from the green wool gauze and her heart quickened. Her imagination was playing tricks on her—or else Neal Stradbroke had just stepped from her daydream into her workroom. She’d been about to chide herself for allowing her thoughts to linger on him. Instead she chided her heart for reacting at the sight of him.

She could not allow herself to be happy to see him—to rejoice at his return—when she needed an explanation for why he’d left at such a crucial time. The Longrieves had needed him. She’d needed him.

“Good day, Dr. Stradbroke.”

“Good day, Miss Bainbridge. Miss Alice. Miss Leticia.” He nodded at each of the apprentices in greeting.

Setting aside the wool, Caddy brushed stray threads from her apron to give her shaking hands something to do as she rose. “You’ve returned from London, then?”

She couldn’t let him see that she knew how ridiculous the question was. He was standing here—of course he’d returned from London!

A twinkle sparkled in his blue eyes, though he kept his expression solemn. “Yes, I arrived not two hours ago. I stopped at the castle and saw Thomas and Johnny.” He ran his fingers through his golden-brown hair; a few flakes of soot from the train snowed down and disappeared into the gray of his traveling suit.

Caddy dropped the pretense of disinterest in his presence. “Are they well? We have been unable to visit them since the trial. We heard they are being readied to be taken to Portsmouth, where they will be put on the ship bound for Australia.” The very name of the place left a burning bitterness in the back of her throat.

“They will be on the train south tomorrow. That is why I came straight here—to find Mrs. Longrieve. I have a plan I believe will keep their family together, or at least allow them to be together after only a short separation; however, it must be acted upon quickly if it is to work.”

To her left and right, Caddy could feel the curiosity of Alice and Letty, who looked as if they were diligently bent over their sewing, but their needles had stopped moving in and out of the fabric.

“I will ask Mrs. Longrieve to join you upstairs in the sitting room.” Caddy moved to skirt around him, but he stopped her with a feather-light touch to her upper arm—though she’d never known the touch of a feather to burn so.

“Thank you for everything you have done for Mrs. Longrieve. Not for me, but on behalf of Thomas and Johnny.”

Caddy’s brows pulled together against her will, but she nodded as if he’d simply shared the London gossip. “We shall be up directly.”

She had to intentionally keep her head from turning to watch him walk out of the room and around the corner to the stairwell. She waited until she heard the door at the top of the stairs close before heaving a sigh and allowing herself the briefest moment of joy at his presence in her home.

And on pain of torture, she’d never admit how long she’d spent each night he’d been away staring out her bedroom window at the darkened portals above the apothecary across the street.

When Caddy entered the shop, Mrs. Longrieve stood at the other end of the long room, helping a woman who appeared to be someone she knew pick out a cotton calico fabric. Caddy listened for a moment as Mrs. Longrieve explained the benefits of cotton over linen or muslin for work-wear. No matter what Neal’s plan to get Thomas and Johnny released was, she intended to offer Winifred Longrieve a full-time position at the shop this very day.

“Phyllis, please take over for Mrs. Longrieve. Dr. Stradbroke needs to speak with her.”

“Yes, miss.” Phyllis scuttled around the main counter and down the long aisle of the store, and her counterpart came scurrying back with as much haste.

Caddy motioned for Mrs. Longrieve to follow her upstairs, and she did so without question.

When Caddy stepped into the sitting room, her breath caught in her throat, and she came close to swooning.

Dr. Stradbroke—tall, brawny, and devastatingly handsome—stood in the middle of the room with baby Ivy cradled in his arms, his cheek to her forehead, swaying to the rhythm of the old country tune he hummed to her.

Caddy pressed her hand to her chest and forced her lungs to fill with air again. He was just a man. Just a man holding a baby. Yet in that one instant, she’d caught a glimpse of the future she hoped to have. A future with him cradling and humming to
their
children.

Tears pricked her eyes at the unattainable happiness that came with the dream. For that’s all it would ever be—a dream—unless the good doctor decided he could be honest with her about his past and allow her to know and trust him fully.

At the creak of the floorboards, Neal turned slowly toward the door. Unless he was very much mistaken, those were unshed tears glittering in Caddy’s eyes. But why . . . ?

She wasn’t looking at him—at least, not eye to eye. Her gaze was fixed on Ivy in his arms. His heart leapt and his innards twisted with the realization that he was seeing love, or something quite like it, in her expression.

“Here.” Caddy’s mother stepped forward and reached for Ivy. “I will take her into the bedroom with me and put her down for a nap to give you time to talk.”

As soon as he handed the baby into Mrs. Bainbridge’s arms, Caddy seemed to come back to herself as if shoved by an invisible hand. “I shall leave you to your talk.” Caddy turned and softly latched the door behind her.

He waited until Winifred was seated before he perched on the front edge of the armchair with his back to the door.

“Have you discovered a way to free my man and boy, Doctor?” Mrs. Longrieve’s expectation bordered on frantic.

He cleared his throat . . . twice. “No. Sadly, I do not believe there is any way to free them. While I was in London on other business, I spoke with a few men of the law. They said that once someone is sentenced to transportation, it is nearly impossible to get it overturned. The judges and magistrates are paid too well for each man they send to the ships bound for Australia.”

Tears sprang to Mrs. Longrieve’s eyes. “Then they’re done for.”

“Not exactly.” Neal twisted the brim of his hat between his fingers. “You see, I have some money put aside. Quite a bit, actually. And when I was in London, I discovered it might be enough to convince a magistrate to commute the sentence of transportation.”

Mrs. Longrieve gasped, pressing long, calloused fingers to her dry lips.

He held up his hand. “Unfortunately, I do not have enough money at my immediate disposal to get both Thomas and Johnny released. And I would not ask you to choose between them.” Leaning forward, he pulled her hands away from her mouth and cradled them in his own, coming nearly off the edge of his chair to do so. “Instead of squandering the money on what could be a vain effort to try to get one of them released, I wish to propose a radical idea that will see your family reunited—in a way.”

She nodded, tears streaming down thin cheeks. “I will do anything to bring my family back together.”

Neal was glad Caddy had left the room. She would not only balk at his idea, she would decry it and do her best to convince Mrs. Longrieve not to go along with it.