Chapter Fifteen
While Miss Whitchurch slept, Benjamin first missed Duncan at his lordship’s home and, therefore, had called upon Duncan and Hartley at the Home Office with a report of what had happened outside Sustar’s shop earlier.
“And you are confident you only saw one shadow?” Duncan asked with concern.
“Miss Whitchurch claims she thought at one point that the shadow ‘split’ or another stepped from behind the first, which is what is more likely. She also believes she heard a female voice, one belonging to her sister, but from my place along the wall where the shadowy figure stood, I only viewed one shadow and heard one voice. A male voice.”
“Lord Betts would hold no qualms regarding sending someone for the child, though whether he would also want Miss Cassandra Whitchurch as his daughter in marriage is debatable. His lordship would not want it known that his son’s new wife had for a brief time sold her body as one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s girls, and there are likely a few witnesses to the act.
Perhaps another in the House of Lords had been one of Miss Cassandra’s patrons.
Though Miss Whitchurch has a history as a teacher in a girl’s school, the lady would still be acceptable for young Mr. Betts in his lordship’s way of thinking. ”
Benjamin frowned deeply. Duncan’s words were like a knife being plunged into his heart. “Are you thinking that now that it is known that the child is a boy, Betts could be considering convincing Miss Whitchurch to marry Jonas Betts and raise the boy as the heir to the barony?”
Duncan said in cautious tones, “Though you likely do not wish to hear this, I would assume the lady would accept young Mr. Betts if an offer was made not only to present the child legitimacy but also to return her parents to the vicarage, especially if someone did away with Miss Cassandra.”
Benjamin could barely breathe. “Have we no sightings of Miss Cassandra?”
“None,” Hartley confirmed, “though we are still asking the necessary questions of our contacts, but I should tell you my gut says we will not find the lady. I cannot speak to the reason, for there are no apparent facts. Simply my instincts.”
“I also feel it in my gut,” Benjamin said softly. “Yet, I cannot speak those words aloud to Miss Whitchurch until no hope remains.”
“We will keep our silence and pray to be proven in error,” Hartley assured.
Benjamin left the Home Office a few minutes later.
From what he knew of Mr. Jonas Betts, Benjamin could not permit Miss Whitchurch out of his sight.
He assuredly did not want young Betts anywhere near her.
He had found Duncan’s conjectures more than reasonable, though he despised the idea that Miss Whitchurch would do whatever necessary to save her family.
Without the lady’s knowledge, he had privately sent two men to Hampshire to learn what they could of the Whitchurch family.
The initial information spoke more to Mrs. Whitchurch’s cattiness than it did to Mr. Whitchurch’s goodness.
All asked seemed to respect Mr. Whitchurch, but the people in the parish thought the gentleman should take his wife in hand.
It was well known Mrs. Whitchurch had wanted to marry up, for she was a gentleman’s daughter.
Therefore, she wished to live vicariously through a daughter who would become a baroness, when young Betts took the reins of the barony.
Initially, Benjamin had thought if he married Miss Whitchurch that he could bring her parents to Kent and offer them a living; now he was no longer so assured he wished to be around such a woman.
He definitely did not wish to expose his dear mother to the likes of Mrs. Whitchurch’s conniving.
From what he had learned, Mrs. Whitchurch’s desire to place a daughter as the future baroness might have led to the catastrophe in which both her daughters now found themselves.
Now, cocooned once again inside his carriage, Benjamin was considering how to watch over Miss Whitchurch during her work hours at Mr. Sustar’s shop, though it would interrupt his life as much as it did the lady’s.
It drove him crazy to think of her in the back room of Sustar’s establishment, working throughout the night and with no one around to protect her.
Would anyone come to her rescue if she required assistance?
After speaking to Duncan and Hartley, Benjamin held no doubt regarding Miss Cassandra’s future: The woman was either dead or she had chosen a future elsewhere.
Nothing in their search proved that she was even still in London.
For all any of them could say, when the woman reached the docks, instead of applying at The Red Rooster, she booked passage on a ship to the West Indies or to America or to India.
She could begin again in any of those places.
Start over with no responsibilities to her child—to her sister—to her parents.
Nothing but the freedom Miss Cassandra had wished for herself while others shouldered her responsibilities.
His heart told him Miss Whitchurch would never encounter her sister again.
One thing was certain: The woman no longer held a lucky card in the form of the child. She had no bargaining chip to tempt Mr. Betts or the young man’s father to act on behalf of the boy.
“Another thing is assured. I am not prepared to permit Miss Whitchurch to move to another residence until all the loose ends have been tied neatly in a row. Moreover, if I am to be honest with myself, I would never be convinced that the lady or the child should live elsewhere, not when I know something of Miss Whitchurch’s impulsiveness.
The lady is too rash when it comes to following leads that might assist in finding her sister,” he told the empty carriage.
Distracted and still worried, after calling on his man of business regarding updates on the purchase of two more houses, which Benjamin had long been considering as prime properties, as well as a breakdown of the initial plans to begin a “cottage” workplace on his estate in Kent, he returned home to address necessary correspondence.
Though his staff likely recognized his ruse, Benjamin retreated to his study where he spread out several ledgers to solidify the appearance of his going about his usual tasks, but he was fooling no one, especially himself.
He required the knowledge that Miss Whitchurch was safe. “Here in this house and safe,” he murmured to the empty room. “Close enough for me to know a bit of the goodness she shares with everyone.”
He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. Easily the lady’s image fell into place behind his eyelids. Benjamin was not prepared to permit her and the child to leave Macalhey House. No matter her reasons. “What do you plan to do about it?” he asked himself.
Unfortunately, there were no ready answers that would make sense.
“Hell, I have not even kissed her. Perhaps such should happen soon, but caution is still required. I do not wish to drive her away or place her in the same situation as her sister. Not the begetting of children. I could never act as did Mr. Betts, but, rather, for her to recognize my growing affection for her. That is what I must do. Small steps. No grand gestures.”
The hours passed faster than he had expected, especially once he concentrated on the numbers to renovate and refurbish the two new properties he wished to claim.
Benjamin always found comfort in the calculations, which were customarily indisputable, as well as in science, for it was always searching for the truth.
He supposed the two disciplines spoke greatly to his character.
“Pardon, my lord,” Patterson said from the open doorway, “Miss Whitchurch sends her regrets. The child is being a bit fussy. The lady fears she cannot join you for supper.”
“Is the boy ill?” Benjamin asked as he stood. Concern had arrived.
“I cannot speak to the seriousness of the child’s complaints, my lord. I am just repeating what I was told,” his butler explained.
“Of course. I will view the boy for myself to learn if we must send for a physician. I will see to the lady’s fears.
” Benjamin left his butler in the hallway and made his way through the passages to the connecting door.
He paused to debate briefly on whether to knock or not, but as he could hear the child’s wails, he entered without announcing his presence.
Miss Whitchurch was pacing the sitting room, the boy in her arms, his complaints a mix of squalls and whimpers.
“I have him,” he told Miss Whitchurch as she turned quickly at the sound of his voice.
She obviously had not realized he had entered the room, which with as much noise as the child was making was understandable.
“There is no need…” she began her objections.
“You are obviously a bit overwhelmed, and I have responded, Miss Whitchurch. Accept my efforts with graciousness,” he instructed as he scooped the boy from her arms. “Now what is all this noise?” he asked the child, and it immediately quieted.
“That is better.” He balanced the boy against his shoulder, and the child batted at the stubble of Benjamin’s beard.
“Scruffy, am I not, Boy? Someday, so will you be at this time of day.”
“Thank you,” Miss Whitchurch said in what sounded of exhaustion.
“Go change your things for supper and in preparation for your obligations to Mr. Sustar. The boy and I will explore some of the rooms together.”
“But I…”
“Should not reject a helpful hand,” he instructed. “Where, by the way, is Mrs. Sullivan?” he asked the lady while he gently bounced the baby.
Miss Whitchurch called as she rushed away, “She is late in her return from her half day off.”
To the child, he said, “People should never be late, for it is a mark on their work ethic.” The boy’s hands kept time with Benjamin’s words.