Page 8 of Pads, Purses, and Plum Pudding (A Paddy’s Peelers Mystery #2)
CHAPTER 7
Wednesday
S ampson shook his head to clear it. Ridiculous. How could he be nervous? Yet his palms were sweaty, and he kept clearing his throat. The balding barkeep, with one foot propped up on a stool and a scowl on his ruddy face, continued to stare silently at him with menacing dark eyes after serving up an ale. Sam had quickly retreated to a table after asking for Mrs. Brown.
Mr. Clatterly, he presumed, was extremely protective for a landlord.
A plump woman with soft brown eyes bustled in with a tea tray. She set it down on Sam’s table with a wide smile, then put her hands on her hips.
Mrs. Clatterly , he assumed again, was much friendlier than her husband. How had they known who he was? There were more than a dozen men in the place.
“I’m Mrs. Clatterly, and that beast of a man over there is my husband.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Dr. Brooks,” he said, standing for a proper introduction.
She eyed the ale he was sipping. “A bit of courage before she comes, eh? Well, best hurry. Dottie will be here in a blink.”
They called her Dottie instead of Dorothea? Dottie Brown. It had a warm sound to it.
Then she was standing before him, no heavy coat or hat on her head.
“Mrs. Brown,” he said simply, his discomfort evaporating at the sight of her.
He could drown in those ocean-blue eyes. Her thick auburn hair was pulled up in the back, long curls tickling her slender neck. A modest dress of dove gray clung to her full figure, taking his imagination for a jaunt. She looked every bit the lady who might instruct the daughters of wealthy merchants.
“Dr. Brooks,” she replied with a nod of her head. She murmured her thanks as he held out her chair. “Did you find the place without much trouble?”
He nodded. “I grew up in Cheapside. And you?”
“My father was steward for the Earl of Langhorn’s country estate in Kent. I lived there until I was fourteen.” She held up the teapot, an eyebrow up in question. He nodded, pushed the bumper of ale away, and she poured them each a cup. “My mother died when I was four—a fever of some sort is all I remember. Papa didn’t talk about it much. He loved her so.”
“My parents were also dedicated to each other. I hope to have the same someday.” Sam saw the panic in her eyes. “Not that I’m ready to wear the leg shackles quite yet.”
He was rewarded with a brilliant smile as she visibly relaxed. “Your father was obviously an educated man. Did he or your mother insist you were too?”
“Both my parents believed in the power of learning. Papa convinced his lordship to allow me to study with his daughter. There was no one else nearby that was close to her age. So, I received lessons and provided companionship in return.”
“He sounds like an astute man. Living above a bookshop, I had knowledge at my fingertips.” Sam remembered the place with fondness despite the sad ending.
“You are your only limitation, my father always said. I believed him when I was younger.”
“You don’t believe him now?” He wondered at the sorrow that darkened her eyes, the lines that creased the corners, telling him she’d also known pain.
“There are so many conditions and obstacles in this life that are out of one’s hands. We can strive to become better, but we can only rise as far as the world, or society, will allow us.” She shrugged. “Life has a way of reminding us that we are not always in control of our destiny.”
So true. “Why did you leave the blissful fields of southern England at fourteen? School?”
“My father fell from his horse and broke his neck. My mother’s family disowned her when she married Papa because he was a foundling. Mama was the sixth child of a baron, and my grandmother had hopes to aspire in society. So, I was alone, as far as relations, and in a peculiar position. Not a domestic, yet not one of the family.” She hesitated, her gaze scanning the room, smiling at a customer, then studying her teacup. “So yes, I left to continue my education, though not according to the original plan. The earl had been close to my father, took pity on me, and sent me to a boarding school with a small allowance until I was of age.”
“A generous lord.”
“Very. I was befriended by an instructor at the academy, who planned to open her own school for girls, and she personally trained me. When I turned eighteen, she offered me a position at the Darlington School for Girls.” A bittersweet smile curled her plump lips. “Mrs. Darlington is a fine, caring woman. I don’t know what I might have done without the earl’s generosity and her guidance.”
“In my opinion, humble as it is, fate puts who we need in our path. We can accept the gift or turn away from it. Fortunately, it sounds like both of us accepted those who offered a lending hand.” He studied her for a moment as she sipped her tea. “The puzzle begins to come together. You intrigued me from that first day at St. James’s. A costermonger who spoke without a cockney accent, refined in her movements, and a smile that pulled me to your cart.”
She blushed. “You made a fine figure yourself, sitting on your horse.”
He wanted to ask her why she had been at the hanging. That had been the first time he’d noticed her. But something told him to wait, to learn more about her before bringing it up.
“Enough about me for now. How did you come to be a physician? What happened to your parents?” She fiddled with one of the curls at her pink cheek. “I’m sorry. If you don’t care to talk about it, I understand.”
“It’s fine. I was a boy of ten, almost eleven, when my world turned upside down. My father, while a learned man, didn’t have much common sense. Too much faith in his fellow man.” He nodded as she offered him more tea. “A swindler of the worst kind sold him insurance for the bookshop. It cost a tidy sum but came with a certificate of guarantee. Father never suspected a thing until there was a fire in the shop, and he went to collect.”
“There was no such insurance company?”
Sam shook his head with a derisive chuckle. “The man had rented an office space for the scheme and left after he collected enough fees. We were ruined. I stayed with them at King’s Bench until my father’s funds ran low. I realized I was another mouth to feed.”
“What did you do?”
“Found work wherever I could, stole food when my stomach demanded I fill it, and gave anything I earned to my parents so they could eat. It still goes on, you know. Charging people for their stay in prison. How does one pay off a debt if they have to pay to survive in gaol?” He shrugged. “A wrong I shall never be able to right.”
Mrs. Brown reached out, her hand covering his. “You were a brave boy.” Her compassion was sincere, and without thinking, he covered her hand with his other. It seemed such a natural reaction to her concern.
“I was a desperate boy. I had no skills, but I was well-read and clever. It was then I realized there were two kinds of intelligence—academia and life lessons. I learned the latter rather quickly.”
Mrs. Clatterly was serving a table next to them, and she looked over her shoulder, her eyes resting on their joined hands. “Do you need a fresh pot?”
Sam understood. Though Mrs. Brown was a widow, the landlady was determined to maintain propriety. He slid his hand back with a grin, and Mrs. Brown did the same, her cheeks adorably pink. How old was she? Early twenties, perhaps?
“No, thank you, ma’am. But it was delicious.” He smiled when she beamed at the compliment. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome on the first visit.”
“You plan to come see us again, do you?” Mrs. Clatterly’s hip bumped Mrs. Brown’s shoulder. The widow drew in a breath and shook her head ever so slightly at the older woman.
“If Mrs. Brown allows it, I would be honored to continue our conversation. May I?” Sam gave her his most persuasive smile, knowing his dimples were on full display. Women seemed to like the dents in his cheeks. He’d use them to his advantage if it got him more time with this captivating woman.
“I’ll see you on Sunday, of course,” she murmured. “Yes?”
“Unless the weather says otherwise.”
She stood, and he did the same. “I suppose, if you’re still interested on Sunday, we could arrange another time.”
“If I must wait, I will. Until then, Mrs. Brown,” Sam murmured, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. He had the strangest urge to trail kisses all the way up her arm. He dropped a coin on the table for the tea and ale and made his way to the door.
Despite all he’d learned about this woman—one he now admitted stirred his blood—his curiosity had been piqued rather than satisfied. How had she ended up in Cheapside? What happened to her husband? Where was her daughter? Sam was confident he’d discover her past and its secrets if he was patient. He was one of Paddy’s Peelers, after all.