Page 6 of Lady Maybe

When they reached the outskirts of Bath, Hannah’s pulse rate accelerated. She’d only been gone a little more than a week, she reminded herself. Surely Danny would still be all right.

The postilion directed the horses into the yard of the Westgate, an old coaching inn near the heart of the city. There, hostellers relieved him of his duty and led the hired horses into the stables for a much-deserved rest.

Ben helped Hannah and Nancy down from the carriage. Both women were eager to stretch their legs after the many hours of confinement.

Edgar asked Ben to wait at the inn and keep an eye on the carriage while he escorted the ladies. As Edgar gave the young man final instructions, Hannah looked about her, gaining her bearings.

She took a deep breath and said brightly, “The baths are just there.” She pointed across the street, then turned to Edgar and pressed several coins into his palm. “You cannot bring Nancy all the way to Bath and not show her the Pump Room and Roman Baths. I shall go on my own to pick up Danny. I will want a little time alone to explain the situation and Sir John’s condition before I return.”

Edgar’s brow furrowed. “Papa said I was to deliver you directly and help with your things.”

“And you have delivered me as promised, and I so appreciate your help,” Hannah said. “I am going just around the corner and won’t have much to carry. Now you two go on, and have a nice time. I shall meet you back here in, say ... two hours’ time?”

Edgar frowned and seemed about to refuse, but Nancy took him by the arm and eagerly pulled him across the courtyard toward the Pump Room, grinning and chatting with excitement. Halfway across the courtyard, Edgar turned to glance at her over his shoulder, looking very much like his father at that moment with concern and uncertainty written on his face. Hannah smiled and waved encouragement and watched until they had disappeared through the arched doorway of the fashionable establishment.

Hannah surreptitiously scanned the courtyard and street beyond for Freddie, though she didn’t think it was one of his regular delivery days. She was relieved not to see him or his wagon anywhere.

Satisfied, Hannah turned and walked briskly away. Her destination was not “just around the corner.” It was seven or eight blocks away. She crossed Westgate Street and walked quickly up Bridewell, before turning into narrow Trim Street. Arriving winded, she knocked at the door of the old terraced house, her heart tripping from the rapid pace and the fear that Danny had taken sick with fever or met with some other dire fate during her absence.

A heavy tread shook the floor within. The small hatch in the door opened, and a pair of eyes beneath bushy brows appeared. A man’s eyes.

“Yeah? Whaddya want?”

Hannah blinked in surprise. “I am here to see Mrs. Beech.”

His eyes roved her face and neck, and suddenly the bar was thrown and the door swung wide. Hannah took a wary step back. Her nose wrinkled at the look and smell of the potbellied, unkempt man standing on the threshold.

“She ain’t here.” The man continued his perusal of her face and figure. “Though I wager I can help ya.”

“Not here?” Hannah’s breath caught. “But ... she has my son. I am here to collect him.”

“What’s your name, girl?”

“Hannah Rogers.”

“Ah.” His eyes lit. “The girl what owes Bertha a great deal of money.”

“I have it, sir. When will Mrs. Beech return?”

“She won’t. So I’ll take it in her stead.”

Hannah was instantly suspicious. “Pardon me, sir. But my business is with Mrs. Beech.”

“Then your business is with me. I’m her brother. Tom Simpkins is the name. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

A shiver of revulsion passed over her. The panderer who led desperate girls into lives of prostitution for his profit.

“She has mentioned her brother, but—”

“That’s me. I’m running the place now.”

No ... She didn’t dare trust him. Yet had she any choice? She had to get Danny back. At any price. She opened her reticule and handed him the money she owed.

He accepted it eagerly. “Is that all of it? Are you certain?”

It was all she was prepared to give the man. She wasn’t about to suggest he review his sister’s books or mention she’d threatened to increase her rates yet again.

“Yes,” Hannah said. “Now please bring me my son, or allow me inside and I shall collect him myself.”

He pocketed the money and crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Panic and anger rippled through her. “Why not?”

Behind the leering man, Hannah glimpsed a woman in only a shift and stays traipse past, pulling a man up the stairs behind her.

Simpkins shrugged. “He ain’t here. None of them brats are. Wet nurses neither. I told you this is my place now. Bertha landed in a spot of trouble, see. Spending a bit of time in the lockup at present, awaitin’ trial.”

Hannah stared, uncomprehending. She could believe Mrs. Beech had been discovered for the corrupt matron she was, but this? She sputtered, “Then wh-where are the children?”

“Oh, parceled out here and there.”

Her heart pounded. “Where? Where is Daniel Rogers? Surely you have a record?”

“Nope. All I know is, her charges has been split up. Some sent to the Walcot Poor House on the London Road. Some to the workhouses in Bradford or Bristol.”

Hannah lifted her chin. “I don’t believe you.” She pushed past the greasy man and stormed through the hall and up the stairs to the nursery. She threw back the door and recoiled at the sight of a man and woman in bed, under a tattered blanket. No cradles. No babies.

Nerves jangling, she ran to the next door and did the same. Inside, a frowsy woman gaped up at her from a dressing table. Her lined face was heavily powdered and rouged in an effort to look younger—and less used—than her years.

“Where are the children?” Hannah asked her. “The babies?”

The woman shook her head. “No babes here, love. This is Tomcat’s place now. Did he not tell you?” She surveyed Hannah with bloodshot eyes. “I hope you’re not looking for work. You’re no great beauty, but he’d replace me in a heartbeat for someone young and fresh like you.”

“I am only looking for my child.”

“You’re too late, love. The last stragglers left this morning.”

Too late? God in heaven, no ... Oh, why had she dawdled? Why had she taken Dr. Parrish’s advice and waited? What was an arm compared to her child ... her flesh and blood, her life?

Trembling in horror, Hannah hurried back down the stairs and past the grinning menace at the door, ignoring his offer to stay and enjoy a life of luxury in his care. She had to get out of that house before she was sick. Before she lost her last thread of self-control and fell into a heap of futile sobs on the man’s nasty floor.

She all but leapt from the front steps and dashed around the corner of the house into the alleyway between two tenements. She drew in desperate breaths of fresh air, trying to stay the nausea, but it was no good. Her stomach wrung with molten dread, and bile climbed her throat. She bent over to retch.

For a moment afterward she stood hunched there, clammy with perspiration, mind whirling. Now what? She could walk to the poor house on the London Road, but she didn’t think that place took in such young inmates. The workhouse in Bristol had a nursery, she believed. Would she have to accept a ride home with Fred, confess all to her father, and beg him to help her? She would if she had to, to save her son. Though she doubted her father would come to their aid. How mortified he would be to do so.

Oh, Danny, where are you? Who has you?

How confused he must be, how abandoned he must feel. Oh God, is this my punishment? Forgive me! I deserve it, but Danny does not. He is innocent; please preserve him. Please help me find him. Hannah’s lungs burned and shrank until she could hardly breathe. Silent shudders racked her body.

She heard something then.... Sobbing. For a moment she thought her own grief had burst forth. But no—it was coming from somewhere farther down the alley. Another mother who had discovered her child gone? How many women were crying at that moment?

Hannah looked down the dim alley and saw a slight figure with dark, curly hair sitting huddled in a doorway, head bent, hugging her knees.

A flicker of recognition penetrated Hannah’s grief. Tentatively, she called, “Becky?”

The trembling figure looked up, her face pale in the shadows. Becky’s eyes widened. Her shaking stilled.

Hannah walked toward the girl, a tendril of hope rising in her battered heart. Perhaps Becky would know where Danny was.

“Becky, I’ve just come from Mrs. Beech’s. Where is Danny—do you know?”

The girl’s mouth parted, but she said nothing. Hannah took a few steps nearer and saw the girl hugged not only her slender self, but also a swaddled bundle.

Hope tangled with revulsion. Had the girl reverted to carrying around a swaddled doll to deal with the loss that sometimes unhinged her grip on reality?

“Becky...?” she prompted.

The girl rose to her feet. “Miss Hannah, I ... I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she faltered. “Mrs. Beech told me you wouldn’t come back.”

“I said I would return and here I am.” Hannah pointed at her splinted arm. “I was injured in a carriage accident, or I might have come sooner.”

But Becky didn’t seem to notice her arm. “He’s my favorite, you know,” she said, staring vacantly ahead. “Mrs. Beech said I weren’t fit to take care of a child and that’s why God took mine away. Said the workhouse would be far better for ’im.”

Hannah’s raw stomach twisted again. “She took Danny to the workhouse? Which one?”

“Planned to. But I took ’im afore she could. Played up like I was gonna work for that Mr. Simpkins and they let me back in.”

The bundle in her arms whined and Hannah’s pulse leapt. Danny? Hannah hesitated. How should she handle this—could she pry the child from the girl’s arms without injuring either of them?

She forced a smile. “Becky, have you rescued Danny for me? Is that what you’ve done?”

The girl stared at her.

“Oh, Becky!” she enthused. “Mrs. Beech was wrong—see how good you are with children! Why, you have saved Danny.”

She held out her arms to embrace Becky, heedless of her tender limb. Becky stiffened. Hannah gingerly wrapped her arms around the girl, Danny between them. At least she prayed it was Danny. She had yet to get a good look at him.

“Dear, dear Becky. How will I ever thank you? When I returned to Mrs. Beech’s and found all the children gone, I thought my heart would tear in two. You remember how that feels, I know, poor dear. Having lost your own little girl.”

“My little girl,” Becky repeated.

“Yes. Gone to heaven. Safe with God. And now you have saved my son. My Danny. How grateful I am.”

Becky looked down at the child, now squirming in her arms.

Hannah’s heart surged to glimpse the dear face. “Oh, Danny! How glad I am to see you again. What good care Becky has taken of you. Let me see how big you are.” She placed tentative hands on each side of the little body, clamped tightly to Becky’s midriff.

For a moment the thin arms remained locked.

“He must be growing heavy, Becky. I’ll give you a rest, shall I?” Again she forced a smile and inserted her fingers between the child and the slender girl.

Finally, Becky yielded and Danny was in her arms at last. Ignoring the pain, Hannah held the boy awkwardly in the crook of her splinted arm and turned him toward her, hungry for a good look at him. His face, pinched in discomfort, his nearly bald head, and blotchy cheeks were a masterpiece of beauty to her. It was all she could do not to crumple to the ground in relief. Thank you, God, thank you, God, thank you, God. She molded his small warm body to hers, patting his back, instinctively beginning to sway in the ancient dance of comfort. Thank you!

A glance at Becky dampened her euphoria. The girl, barely more than a child herself, now hugged herself alone. Face blank, eyes haunted.

Compassion tugged at Hannah. “Becky, what will you do now? Where will you go?”

The girl shrugged. “Don’t know.”

For the first time Hannah noticed the dingy canvas sack at the girl’s feet. Likely all her worldly possessions. “Will you try to find a new place?” Hannah asked.

Again, the shrug. “Mrs. Beech gave me no character. Perhaps I’ll work for Mr. Simpkins yet.”

“Becky, no...” Hannah urged. She thought a moment, then asked, “Is your milk still flowing?”

Becky nodded. “I fed Danny, didn’t I? Fed him first so he’d not go hungry.”

Cupping Danny’s bottom with her good hand, Hannah reached out the other, extending from the sling, and awkwardly patted Becky’s arm. “And I am truly grateful.”

What should Hannah do? A part of her wanted to distance herself from this pitiful girl as soon as possible. To be on her way, just her and her son. But the reality was her own milk had dried up. And she could ill afford to buy milk to feed Danny. Let alone feed herself.

She didn’t even know where she was going or how she would support the two of them. How on earth could she support a third person as well?

Becky looked up at her, the anticipation of disappointment dulling her small dark eyes. “And you, Miss Hannah? Where will you go?”

“I don’t know either.”

Becky waited a moment longer, brows high. When Hannah said no more, she deflated, shoulders slumping.

What should she do? Find Fred and ride with him back to Bristol and show up at her father’s door—likely only to be turned away? Or go to one of the same poor houses or workhouses where the other children had gone? She shuddered at the thought of either of those fates.

Hannah took a deep breath. “You may come with me if you like, Becky. I can’t guarantee what we’ll eat or where we’ll sleep, but if you’re sure you won’t be able to find another situation here ...”

“Oh, thank you, Miss Hannah. Thank you!”

The girl’s face lit as though Hannah had offered her something worthwhile. Becky bent and picked up her canvas sack. Hannah hoped she had spare baby linen inside.

They had barely stepped from the alley when Hannah gasped and drew up short. There came Edgar Parrish, Nancy trailing behind.

She froze. What to do now? Turn and run ... with child in arms? Confess all?

“My lady. There you are.” Edgar exhaled in relief.

She stood in place, breathless. Caught. “Edgar. What are you doing here? Why are you two not at the Pump Room?”

“After you left, I ... didn’t feel right about you going off alone. I knew Pa wouldn’t like it. I was afraid I wouldn’t find you. I almost didn’t look down this street.”

She forced a light tone. “Yes, well, you needn’t have done so.”

His gaze shifted to the child in her arms. “Is this your boy?”

“Yes, this is Daniel.”

His expression softened. “A handsome lad.”

“Thank you.”

Edgar looked expectantly at her companion, and then back at her.

Hannah pressed her dry lips together, then said, “And this is Becky Brown. My son’s nurse.”

He nodded. “Ah.”

“Becky, this is Edgar Parrish and his ... friend, Nancy Smith.”

The two young women bobbed curtsies to one another.

Edgar frowned over his shoulder at the ill-kempt house with its peeling paint. “This isn’t where you lived, surely.”

“No.” Hoping to explain the grim neighborhood, Hannah fabricated, “Becky was visiting a poor relation near here. That’s why it took me a little longer to find her.”

“I see. Is your nurse coming back with us? I can sit on the rear seat with Ben for the return journey; it’s no trouble.”

Hannah looked from Edgar to Becky. “I... am not certain. We were just discussing that very thing.”

“But I am coming with you!” Becky’s voice rose in a panicked shrill. “You said I could.”

That was before I knew I’d be caught and might have to return to Devonshire , Hannah thought, but she said, “I know, but you must understand that Lynmouth is a long way off. Are you sure you want to leave Bath and everyone you know?”

“I have no friends here. Not anymore.”

Hannah was trapped. Hemmed in on both sides. “Will you excuse us a moment, Mr. Parrish? I wish to speak with Becky in private, before she makes such a big decision.”

Edgar pulled a face. “She didn’t know where you and Sir John had moved to?”

“I... just want her to be certain she wants to come with us.”

“We’ll wait right here.” Edgar held out his arms. “I shall hold Danny for you. Pa wouldn’t want you straining that arm.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “Thank you, but I don’t mind. I’ve missed him.” Had he seen the intention to flee in her eyes?

“Just while the two of you talk,” Edgar said. “Give us the chance to become acquainted.” He gave a good-natured grin. “I won’t have liberty on the way back, as I’ll be sitting outside.”

How could she refuse him? Biting her lip, she begrudgingly handed over her son. Nancy quickly crowded close, cooing and smiling into Danny’s face.

Hannah took Becky’s arm and led her several yards away, pausing beside an abandoned barrel.

She spoke in a low voice. “Becky. If you are to come with me, with them, there is something you need to know. Remember the carriage accident I mentioned?”

Vaguely, the girl nodded. “Is that how you hurt your arm?”

“Yes. I was traveling with my former employer and his wife. She died in the crash. The doctor who found us thought I was the man’s wife. I was insensible for a time, and wasn’t even sure who I was for days. Eventually I realized they thought I was the lady of the house....”

“Is that why he called you ‘my lady’?”

“Yes.”

“I did wonder.”

“I haven’t corrected them. It was the only way I could think of to return for Danny. At all events, they all think I am Lady Mayfield. If you come with us, you mustn’t give me away. Or use my real name. Ever.”

The girl’s brow furrowed. “You can’t fool them forever.”

“I know. I don’t want to. I only want to take care of Danny.” The reality of Hannah’s situation sank in as she spoke. “But here, as myself, I have no employment, nowhere to sleep, and nothing to eat. In Lynmouth, I am Lady Mayfield, with a house to sleep in, a post to offer you with wages, and all the food you, Danny, and I need. It will only be until my arm mends and I can find work and someplace for us to live. I know what I am doing is deceitful and wrong. And I will understand if you want nothing to do with it. If you want to stay here, stay. I would not blame you. But please say nothing to anyone else about this—promise?”

Becky frowned in confusion. “But the husband. Surely he knows you’re not his wife.”

Hannah shook her head. “He hasn’t awakened. The doctor didn’t even know if he would live at first, though now he hopes he will.”

“But as soon as he wakes up...”

Hannah nodded. “Then you and I and Danny will have to leave immediately. I don’t think you would get into any trouble for going along with this, but I certainly shall.”

Becky thought. “Perhaps we might find new posts a’way out there where nobody knows us.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. However, first you will return with us as Danny’s nurse. If you still want to come.”

“I’ve nowhere else to go.”

Hannah glanced over at her son in Edgar Parrish’s arms. “Neither, it seems, do I.”

She turned toward the waiting Edgar and forced a smile. “Becky will be coming with us after all. I hope that is all right.”

“Of course. Do we need to go and pick up his belongings?”

She said breezily, “Never mind that. We have sufficient for the journey and will purchase what he needs when we arrive.”

For a moment both Nancy and Edgar stared at her, confusion wrinkling their brows.

“A fresh start in his new home,” Hannah said brightly. She turned and strode away in the direction of the coaching inn before either of them could ask further questions, though she heard Nancy whispering to Edgar as they walked. Probably something about the wasteful ways of the wealthy. Better that, Hannah thought, than suspecting the truth.

When they arrived at the Westgate, rested horses were harnessed to the hired chaise. When all was ready, Ben helped her, Becky, and Nancy into the chaise.

Edgar handed Danny in to her. “Now then.” He smiled. “Let’s get this fine lad home.”

Home ... The word echoed through Hannah’s mind. Lynmouth was not her home. Nor was Bath. Her father’s house in Bristol had once been, but no longer. Would she and Danny ever have a home of their own?

Hannah held her son on a small rug on her lap. As the sun lowered in the sky, they stopped for the night at another coaching inn. Before joining the others for a late supper, she excused herself and stepped into a nearby shop to purchase baby linen for Danny—a clean nightgown, cap, and cloths. She once again considered leaving young Mr. Parrish and his sweetheart. But the inn was on the outskirts of a small village that did not look promising in terms of employment. Besides, her arm was not yet fit for work. And then there was Becky to consider. Hannah had to resign herself to the uncomfortable notion of returning to Clifton—to the house of Sir John Mayfield—and taking her chances there.

What if Sir John had awakened? She quailed at the thought of Dr. Parrish informing Sir John that his wife had returned to Bath to collect their child.

“Collect our child?” he would say, stupefied. “Our child has yet to be born.”

After that would follow questions, descriptions, and the stunning realization that his wife’s companion had the audacity to assume his wife’s identity. And that his own wife was gone. How hurt and disillusioned kind Dr. Parrish would be, and how furious Sir John. Would Hannah return “home,” only to be cast out, or worse, arrested as the fraud she was? What would happen to Danny then?