Page 11 of Pads, Purses, and Plum Pudding (A Paddy’s Peelers Mystery #2)
CHAPTER 10
Sunday
St. James’s Park
“H urry, sweeting, or we won’t get a prime spot.” It was another warm day for November, so she’d decided to take Violet with her. It would be good for the girl to get some fresh air. And meet Dr. Brooks.
Dottie had made a decision. She would find the words to explain how she’d become a widow, then let fate decide if she should stay or go to America. Her heart told her that Sampson meant what he said about a future together. If he would have her, she would be a part of his life, his plans.
Besides, the voyage had lost its appeal. The Clatterlys had helped her establish a living. She was able to support herself, and soon, she wouldn’t need a reference. Her landlords and their patrons already sang her praises. Violet had settled in and seemed happy with their lot.
“I don’t mind if you walk around and enjoy the day but don’t wander too far. I want to properly introduce you to Samps—Dr. Brooks. He may become someone important to me, so the two of you need to become acquainted.” Dottie ignored the pouty look and patted the girl’s cheek. “You look very pretty in your new gown. The deep green makes your hair look golden.”
Violet grinned and ran off toward the canal. “Don’t muss your clothes and keep your pelisse on. It’s not that warm!” Dottie called after her.
By the time Sampson arrived, her nerves had calmed. “Good day, fine sir. May I interest you in a treat? I’m told I make the very best tarts in London.”
“Funny thing. I was told the same.” He leaned over her cart, squinting at the pastries. “They don’t look so extraordinary to me.”
She gasped in mock offense, then grinned when he winked at her. “I’m glad you’ve come.”
“Are you? I wasn’t quite sure how we’d left things on Wednesday.” Relief shone on his face. “Shall we continue our Wednesdays, then?”
She nodded. “However, there are some things about my past I must share with you before?—”
“Before I lose my heart? Too late, Dottie.” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his brown waves. “There is one burning question on my mind that isn’t related to my heart. Well, it is but not romantically.”
“Yes?” What in the world could he want to know that had to do with his heart but not lo—romance?
“I’ve mentioned my desire to open a hospital and school for women who find themselves with child and alone.”
He hesitated, his face growing red, and she wondered if she’d somehow embarrassed him.
“I believe I’ve found a suitable building, and I thought… well, I thought you might go with me to look at it?” His hazel eyes studied the ground after the question.
She thought he was adorable, like a boy who’d asked to kiss the girl and waited for her answer. “I’d be delighted. But I’m not very knowledgeable about the running of a hospital.”
“The building will also provide housing for the girls, and they will be schooled there. As a very qualified instructor, your opinion would mean a great deal to me.” He glanced up at her, probably gauging her reaction.
A smile spread across her face. “I would love to volunteer once it is set up. Do you have a name yet?” She had missed teaching. The satisfaction of shaping the life of someone for the better did something for her soul. It filled a void inside her that she hadn’t realized was there until she’d married. Dottie appreciated her pastry work, but it wasn’t the same as teaching. Watching the light in a child’s eyes when they learn to read or a young woman’s delight at realizing she can learn as well as any man. If only…
“I hope you consider being in charge of the school, taking care of the day-to-day running of it, hiring more instructors, deciding the curriculum. All subjects I know little about.” His gaze locked with hers now. “We could make quite a team.”
Dottie’s breath caught as she saw a future with Sampson spread before her, helping others, helping each other. Then she remembered her news. “I brought Violet along today. It’s time the two of you meet.” Dottie needed time to think about the doctor’s proposition. It was so very tempting and much more suited to her than being a costermonger.
“The magical child who tames the beastly barkeep?”
Dottie chuckled and scanned the expanse of lawn on either side of them. “One and the same.”
“Is she hiding in the cart?” he asked with a straight face, poking at the cakes and pasties.
“She disappears each time I have a customer, then gets bored, I suppose, and returns. The last time I saw her, she was following a couple toward the canal.”
“Is that her?”
Dottie saw Violet approaching them at a run. “Yes, and she managed to stay clean. Miracles on a Sunday.”
The girl stopped just behind Dottie, clinging to her pelisse and peeking around at Sampson. In the distance a constable’s whistle blew, and the sound of pedestrians laughing floated on the slight breeze.
“Violet, this is Dr. Brooks.”
“Miss Violet, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Violet stared at him solemnly, and Dottie wondered what was going on in that little brain of hers.
“And yes, I am enjoying this fine November day. Thank you for inquiring,” Sampson said with a grin, his dimples deepening as he tried to charm Violet. His questioning eyes looked to Dottie.
“I’m afraid she doesn’t speak. I’ve heard her laugh or hum along when I sing but never words.” Her arm went around the slim frame protectively. “I understand she’s capable, but something must have happened…”
“Fascinating—and tragic, of course.” He cocked his head, studying Violet. “I’ve heard of the phenomena with soldiers in battle. A traumatic incident that keeps them from speaking, some blocked memory too painful to remember.”
“Is there a cure?” Dottie realized she should have shared this information sooner. Sampson might be able to treat Violet.
“Time, usually.” He squatted down to Violet’s level. “You’re a lucky girl to have found Mrs. Brown.”
Violet nodded and clutched Dottie’s skirt more tightly.
Sampson stood and tousled the girl’s hair. “I’d like a dozen of everything you’ve brought.”
She chuckled and decided not to argue this time. When she handed him the package, he reached inside his greatcoat and pulled out his purse, dropping some coins into her hand. “Until Wednesday, Mrs. Brown.”
He tipped his hat and walked away, whistling some jaunty tune.
Violet stepped to the front of the cart and watched him leave. A small group approached from the opposite direction, catching Dottie’s attention while they considered what to buy, and when she looked around, the girl was gone again.
A few minutes later, another whistle blew, closer this time. A man’s shout, then a terrifying scream that sent a chill down Dottie’s back.
Dottie picked up her skirts and ran toward the commotion. Somehow, she knew it was Violet. Had she fallen into the canal? In the distance, she saw Sampson carrying the child, kicking and screaming. As he drew closer, a constable close behind, she could see Violet’s tear-streaked face.
“Maaaamaaaa!”
The breath left Dottie’s lungs. Sampson struggled to hold on to the girl, who was striking out at some invisible obstacle, fingers clawing at the air, her brown eyes glazed and unseeing.
Sampson stopped at the cart, leaning against a tree as he lowered himself and the hysterical girl to the ground. Dottie was on her knees in an instant, stroking her hair, murmuring soothing words. Violet’s flailing subsided. She leaned against Dottie’s chest, whimpering and clutching at her shoulders.
The constable stood over them, a stern look on his face. “What’s going on here?”
Sampson gently laid the child in Dottie’s lap and stood. “My name is Dr. Brooks. I’m afraid this child has had some kind of fit. I believe it’s over for now.”
The man’s bushy eyebrows came together as he stared at Dottie and the trembling girl. “Well, I s’pose you would know more about it than me. Do you need any help with the lass?”
“No, but I thank you.”
“Been a busy day. Four pockets picked today and now this.” The constable nodded. “Well, if you don’t need my help, I’ll be off. Good luck with the little one. Poor thing.”
Dottie rocked Violet, holding her close and trying not to cry. “What happened?”
“We’ll discuss it later. She may have remembered something.” He squatted down and brushed wet hair from the girl’s face. “I’ll get a hackney to take you both home, then find someone to bring your cart to the Clatterlys. Perhaps the boy who is holding Jack.”
Dottie nodded, so thankful that Sampson had been there. “Will you come and check on her?”
“Of course. Once she’s home, get her into bed and use a cool compress to ease the pain in her head. I’d imagine she has a megrim after all this.” He straightened. “Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”