Chapter 16 #2
“Yes, but you said south. You likely meant Brighton, which is where people go to enjoy the piers and walking on the shingle, and that sort of thing.” So I had heard, and seen on posters advertising the place, but I’d never been there myself.
“I don’t know.” Daniel lost his smile, his voice holding frustration. “It is only a vague feeling. I might never have gone to Brighton, or any other beach. I did take a sojourn to the Cornwall coast once, with James, but I wasn’t overcome with sudden memories of who I truly was.”
“It is worth a try, though, isn’t it? Not that I have time to rush to the seaside at the moment, but perhaps next year?”
Daniel shook his head. “We are grasping at straws. Mrs. Kerr and Howard Banks might have absolutely nothing to do with me at all. Banks couldn’t possibly have remembered me when I was a two- or three-year-old child, and it might be a wild coincidence that Mrs. Kerr took in a lad who might have been the same age as me. It is very little to go on.”
From the bleakness in his eyes, Daniel had very much hoped for more. I rested my head on his shoulder. “I will not give up, my friend. We will learn something, I promise you.”
“No need to promise.” Daniel slid his arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head, uncaring whether the other two in the room observed us.
“You owe me nothing, Kat. The fact that you have agreed to stay on with me is worth more than a parish record that shows me exactly who I am, where I was born, and the names of my mother and father.”
I scarcely believed that, but I said nothing as we leaned into each other, watching the world outside grow wet.
I vowed to myself I would not stop until I uncovered his true identity, even if his origins proved to be such that he no longer could marry me without impediment. Daniel was a good man, and he deserved no less.
* * *
I spent the hours following the visit to Mr. Thanos’s flat once again baking with Grace, Joanna, and anyone else who would fit into Joanna’s tiny kitchen.
Daniel had escorted me as far as Cheapside, neither of us speaking much.
He left me at the opening to Clover Lane, saying he would hunt up Mr. Fielding and Mr. Grimes, ensure Mr. Patterson had been put where they could find him again, and plan what they would do next.
I longed to be in this conversation, but I had no wish to forgo my time with Grace for it.
Joanna’s kitchen was warm, cozy, and filled with laughter as we rolled more dough and baked tarts and pies. I took time to mix up scones, which could be done quickly, and soon the odor of savory pies and currant scones permeated the house.
We loaded two baskets, and Joanna sent us off. Once more Grace and I risked the underground trains and emerged to walk up Portobello Road.
The woman with the bakery stall lower down the slope gave me a scowl as we trundled by, but she was surrounded by customers and had no time to disparage me.
I was gratified to see people already queuing while Hannah brought out the folding table she stored for me and helped me set up my wares. She retreated with a grin as some of the people who’d purchased from me last time started asking for the same again.
The scones went quickly, as they were a treat one could eat while perusing the rest of the market.
I’d made certain to bring more newspaper, Joanna having saved all of Sam’s from the week.
News of financial dealings in the City or winners of the most recent horse races wrapped pork pies and apple, fig, or damson tarts.
I’d brought more today, as I’d be able to stay here longer, including two extra tarts to cut up as samples, but by midafternoon, my table was bare. I’d made more than two crowns today, I realized as I totaled up the earnings. I felt rich, successful, and pleased.
Grace and I took apart the stall and carried the things back to Hannah, who, as usual, sat behind her table with her feet up. She never worried that she didn’t have a crush of patrons, but then, she was here most days. I supposed her sales balanced out over the week.
“Well done,” Hannah praised me as she rose to help me stow the folding table. “I knew you’d do well, Katie. Give up working inside a stifling mansion and stay out here with me. You’d make plenty if you came every day.”
“I’m certain they’ll grow tired of me.” My self-deprecation was not to admonish her but to remind myself not to become too optimistic. “Cooking in a well-stocked kitchen allows me to experiment with recipes and decide what to bring here to sell.”
Hannah was skeptical. “I doubt the fine ladies and gents you cook for want you to experiment. Plain meat and potatoes, with cheese and fruit for after, is more what they demand. You’re wasted there, you are.”
She wasn’t far from wrong, but I did not give way. “It is better that I do this a little bit at a time. Diving straight in might be more exciting but could bring disaster.”
Hannah’s dimples showed. “My always cautious Katie. Life races by, my friend. Grab it by the horns. Grace, me love, what would you like today? Pick out anything you want.”
Hannah liked to spoil Grace, but I’d allow it. Childhood was fleeting, as was our time together.
As Grace eagerly looked through the pieces of faux jewelry and little boxes that she loved, I also browsed. Perhaps I’d reward myself for all the money I’d made today with a small purchase.
Hannah had acquired a stack of books since last week, leaving them in a pile on the corner of the table. I sifted through them idly, finding that most of them were children’s picture books, too young for Grace’s tastes.
One book caught my eye, and I paused.
The board cover had been printed with a colorful depiction of the ocean, with children playing on a shingle strand in the foreground. The edge of a cottage poked into one side of the picture, and a few clouds floated through an unrealistically blue sky.
The cover had cracked and chipped with wear as it was handed from owner to owner, but the picture had my fingertips tingling, as did the title of the book.
At the Seaside.