Where Love Shines (12 page)

He paused and seemed to stifle a small shiver. “Strange, isn’t it, how you’ll remember a detail in the midst of all that horror? But it seemed so awful to me, the poor creature’s terror. Of course, I was certain you were done for. I don’t remember feeling nearly as bad for you as I did for your horse. I must have fainted then. Last thing I remember for several days.”

The men continued in conversation for some minutes, but Jennifer sat back against the hard slats of the bench. She had been so hopeful. Finding Legend would have been such a boost to Dick’s morale. Instead, she had just led him into another disappointment.

On the way back to Manchester Square, Jenny tried to ease any letdown Richard might be feeling by telling about her new volunteer teaching, about meeting the Earl of Shaftesbury, and about Joshua, the rescued climbing boy.

Livvy listened with a puzzled look on her bright face. “How good you are, Jennifer. Of course I’m happy to take baskets to Aunt Charlotte’s deserving poor, but don’t you find spending too much time among them depressing? I must admit that I far prefer a lively party.”

Richard, however, was quite interested. “I met the earl once when I was at Cambridge—before he was the earl. He was there to address the Student Society for Doing Good. Don’t remember much about the speech, but I recall what they said about him, that even though Ashley—as he was known then—had gone to Oxford, he was as true an Evangelical as if he had gone to Cambridge and studied under Charles Simeon.

“I remember being surprised at how pleased he seemed by that introduction and even more surprised by how the audience cheered it. I’d had the impression that being called an Evangelical was something of an insult.”

“I have heard Rev. Baring at All Souls referred to as an Evangelical, and he isn’t at all wanting in intelligence or decorum.” The strong urge to defend those of fervent faith startled even Jenny herself, as she hadn’t thought through her own opinions on the subject yet. But she had met the earl and seen the sincerity of his faith in action. “As a matter of fact, Rev. Baring is a friend of Lord Shaftesbury. I expect that’s why the earl is speaking on behalf of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children next week at All Souls.” She turned suddenly and clasped Richard’s arm. “Dick, you must come. I’ll hear no argument. This is the very thing. And you, too, Livvy. Surely Lady Eccleson will be attending anyway.”

“Oh, yes, Aunt Charlotte never misses any opportunity to promote a good cause.” Livvy winced. “Her tirelessness quite exhausts me. But perhaps I shall accompany her since Mama has been unwell again.”

Jenny looked at Dick, but he made no reply. “Fine. I shall see you there.” She spoke with as much decision as if all had agreed. Even though the excursion to Horse Guards had come to nothing, she had made a start. Now she was determined to carry on full steam ahead to stir Richard to action.

I
n spite of the failure to locate Legend, the following week was one of Jennifer’s happiest since her return to London. She was up early every morning and out the door often before her parents were down to breakfast. In a burst of determination she had put her name down for the British and Foreign Bible Society, the Open Air Mission, the Christian Evidence Society, and several others. But what she enjoyed most was her teaching on Thursdays. After only one night she felt a part of the school. She was determined to make a real difference in her students’ lives. She smiled as she sailed through the door of the mission building that evening, intent on the task ahead of her.

“Would yer like yer shoes blacked, miss?”

Jenny stopped and blinked. The small creature standing before her in the distinctive uniform of the Shoeblack Brigade looked familiar, yet she was certain he wasn’t one of the boys she had taught last week. Certainly she wouldn’t have forgotten that shining silver-blond hair sticking straight out in every direction like mown barley after a wind storm.

‘“s a penny, but I’ll do it special fer ya.”

“Of course, you may black my shoes. But no favors. I shall pay my fair share.” Jenny crossed the worn wooden floor to a chair and placed her right foot on the boot support of his box. The shoeblack took out a rag and began vigorous work on her half-boot although it didn’t really need polish. Between slaps of the cloth, he looked up with a shy smile. The blue-brown eyes under the long, pale lashes brought Jenny’s memory into focus. “Joshua! Can that really be you?”

“Yes, ma’am, ’s me, right and true.”

Jennifer couldn’t believe the transformation. She recalled the impact the newly formed Shoeblack Brigade had made on London during the Great Exhibition four years ago when twenty-five boys in their special uniforms had cleaned more than 100,000 pairs of shoes. And she was accustomed to the familiar sight of uniformed shoeblacks on London’s streets, but she had never given any thought as to where they came from.

Now Mrs. Watson bustled in from supervising the volunteers in her soup kitchen. “It’s good to see you, Miss Jennifer. Didn’t our young Joshua here scrub up fine?”

Jenny laughed. “I can’t believe he’s the same boy, Edith.”

“Got him a lodging with the brigade just over in Lambeth, Rev. Walker did.”

“So the boys live together?”

Edith Watson nodded with as much satisfaction as if she personally saw to the work herself. “Fine organization, the brigades are. Take hundreds of street arabs from the worst slums, clean ’em up, put ’em in uniforms, loan ’em equipment. They keeps their earnings except for a few pennies they pays back to the brigade organizers.” She bent over to address Joshua, who was intent on his work. “And you mark my words, young man, you make the most of this opportunity. There’s many a lad out there in a fine position now who got his start as a shoeblack. You wouldn’t be the first to impress his customers so much he got offered regular employment.”

Jennifer placed her left foot on the stand, admiring the gleam on the toe of her freshly shined boot. “Just let us teach him to read and write and calculate his numbers before you’re hiring him out to a trade, Mrs. Watson.”

That night Jenny had a group of eight students to review the letters A and B and proceed to C and D. She was just concluding her lesson when Arthur returned to escort her home. She could see by his flushed countenance and abrupt manner that he was in a considerable hurry. “Where is your bonnet? You did bring a shawl, didn’t you?”

As Jennifer turned to collect her things, she heard the eager question, “Would yer like yer shoes blacked? ’s only a penny.”

Arthur took a step back from the child. “No, no. No time for that.” He fished in his pocket and withdrew a coin. “But here’s a copper for you.”

Joshua looked uncertain. “It’s all right, Josh. When Mr. Merriott has more leisure, you can black his boots for him,” Jenny said, allowing Arthur to steer her toward the door.

“Whatever has you so agitated, Arthur?” she asked once she was seated in the hackney cab he had kept waiting.

“I must get back to Whitehall. It seems that we win one war only to lose two. Parliament has abolished the Central Health Board just when Shaftesbury was ready to put into effect his plan for piping clean water into London from Frensham Commons and for closing the overcrowded burial grounds inside London and opening spacious cemeteries outside the built-up areas. I have even seen his plans for a great system of underground sewers to carry London’s filth off to where it could do no harm instead of dumping it all into the Thames. Now none of it is likely to be achieved.”

“Oh, Arthur, that’s dreadful news.” Jennifer thought of the miracles she had seen achieved in Scutari from good sanitation. “What will happen now?”

Arthur shook his head. “We are left with a ponderous Health Department that is certain to accomplish little. And if this warm autumn weather persists, London will be visited by yet another scourge of cholera. You’ll see that I am right in this.”

Jennifer hadn’t the least notion that he might be wrong.

Arthur walked her briskly to her door but refused her invitation to come in.

It was clear that Arthur’s mind was fully engaged on his work. Halfway down the walk, however, he turned. “Please tell your mother I shall call at seven o’clock Saturday to escort you both to the earl’s speech.”

“That will be quite convenient, Arthur—if you can find time.” Her mild irony was lost on his departing back.

Saturday evening was tangy with just a hint of approaching frost in the air. The day had been warm enough to do without coal fires, leaving the air relatively free of smoke and smog. With such an inducement from the weather, plus the arrival of her new pelisse wrap from her dressmaker, Mrs. Neville happily agreed to Arthur’s suggestion that they walk the short distance down Portland Place to All Souls. Although she would have been loath to admit that the walk would give her added opportunity to exhibit her height-of-fashion pelisse, copied directly from a Parisian doll. Made of a dark blue open-knit weave that gave the garment the look of heavy lace, the three-quarter-length wrap fell gracefully over her wide crinolined skirt. The silk of Amelia Neville’s dress added its gentle swishing to that of Jennifer’s gold and brown watered taffeta and the rustle of leaves underfoot as they walked.

Jennifer could sense Arthur’s unspoken urging that they hurry. But he had no need to push her; she could be quite as intent as he. Indeed, as the sidewalk was too narrow for two crinolined skirts, she stepped ahead. The swish of her taffeta increased as she left Arthur and her mother several paces behind. She would show Mr. Arthur Nigel Merriott that he was not the only person who understood devotion to duty.

When they arrived at Langham Place at the top of Regent Street, a number of carriages filled the square. Greeting friends in every direction, they entered the colonnade of the circular portico beneath the distinctive needle-pointed spire which had been designed by John Nash in the architectural heyday of the Regency. Inside, Jennifer saw that even the gallery that ran around three sides of the sanctuary was filled to capacity. All the free pews on the main floor were filled as well. They were making their way to the Neville pew when Jennifer spotted Lady Eccleson and Lavinia.

Arthur was well acquainted with the older woman, but he bowed deeply at his first introduction to her niece’s daughter. Livvy’s round eyes sparkled, and her blonde curls bobbed. “Won’t you join us? We have extra space in our pew.”

And so they did, leaving the Neville pew open for others. The Reverend Charles Baring, rector of All Souls, introduced the speaker of the evening in his earnest, simple way.

The earl took his place at the heavy pulpit before the painting of Christ mocked by the soldiers. Although Shaftesbury’s long face and sharp features could appear earnest to the point of severity, tonight he glowed with conviction as he delivered his message: “…I am particularly pleased when I am asked to speak in a church, for it is my heartfelt and earnest desire to see the Church of England—the church of our nation, and especially of the very poorest classes—dive into the recesses of human misery and bring out the wretched and ignorant sufferers to bask in the light and life and liberty of the Gospel.”

Lady Eccleson nodded her approval. Arthur sat forward in his seat. But Jennifer could not share their absorption. She looked around her in irritation. Richard was not there. Where was he? She had told him to come. Why had he not done so?

Earlier that evening the question had been much debated in Richard’s mind. The excursion to Horse Guards had meant more to him than he cared to admit. And certainly he must go out more if he would begin living again. But he shied from the prospect of appearing in public with fierce scars and startling eye patches. Gently bred young ladies might faint at such an alarming sight. And what it would cost his pride to be led about, he didn’t care to consider.

Yet there was no denying his interest in hearing the great Shaftesbury speak, and he would like to please Livvy, who had continued to urge him in that direction. As to the matter of pleasing the determined Miss Jennifer Neville, he had mixed feelings. Certainly there was no one to whom he owed more. And yet that was the root of the problem. His feelings about Jennifer were one of the most complicated things in his life.

Lady Eccleson had decreed a light early supper. Richard adjusted his eye shades and, running one hand along the wall for guidance, left the comfort of the library for the dining room. For two weeks or more now he had taken the step of eating dinner with the family. Livvy was right. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life eating in his own rooms.

And he was willing to admit that he was finding the transition easier all the time, especially as Kirkham stood at his elbow to serve him and see that everything was cut into manageable bites. Inwardly Richard fumed at being fed like a toddler, but he suppressed his rage, as he did at so many things in his life. Again he felt the desire to reach out and smash that stone wall he had run into. But the wall would not be smashed.

Instead he turned toward Livvy’s voice and gave a vague reply to her question about his plans for the evening.

Lady Eccleson’s response, however, was anything but vague. “Nonsense. Of course, you’re going, Richard. You’ve moped here quite long enough. The speech will inspire you to turn your efforts to doing good. That’s the answer, you know. It will take you out of yourself.”

The entrance of Branman carrying a small white card on a silver platter saved Dick the effort of a reply. “A guest for Mr. Richard, ma’am.” Apparently unsure what to do with the card, Branman presented it to his employer.

She peered at the card. “Richard, do you know a Captain Morris? It seems he would pay you a call at this most inconvenient hour.”

Richard’s hand flew to his eye patches, then stopped. Dr. Halston had been most explicit. If there was to be any chance of further healing he must not expose his raw nerves to additional weakening from strong light. He knew it to be a bright evening, and Aunt Charlotte’s dining room windows faced the west. He must swallow his pride. He lowered his hand with the wry thought that at least the patches covered some of the scars. “Of course, I know Morris. Send him in, Branman.”