Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Mungo took a wrong turn twice until he resorted to walking beside the buildings so he could see where he was.
A large figure brushed by him, and he tensed, preparing for the hand that might slip into his pocket.
“Good evening, Mungo.”
“Mavis, you nearly stopped my heart.”
Mavis Johns was a Crabbett Close resident, and some said her personality mirrored his. She had the odd habit of walking the streets of London alone for hours.
“Why would you be out on such a night, woman?”
“I never miss my walk. It helps with aging,” she said, slowing her steps to walk with him. “I’ve no wish to end my days bent like a fishhook.”
He couldn’t disagree with that sentiment.
“Good evening to you, Mungo.”
“Mavis.”
The fog soon swallowed her whole.
After a further twenty minutes’ walk, the soft glow of the tea shop appeared. The small building had a lemon-hued facade and Hatfield’s Tea Shop painted in pink lettering on the window.
The first time he’d entered the place, he’d braced himself to find plenty who believed themselves better than him. Delicate ladies and elegant gentlemen, all sniffing their disdain at the large Scotsman in their midst.
Glancing down the length of his black wool coat, Mungo found his polished boots beneath dark gray trousers. He was as respectable as any gentleman. Bram had made sure of it.
“You’ve a right to walk anywhere, and I’ll not have you believing otherwise,” his friend had said the day they’d set foot back on English soil many years ago.
Mungo hadn’t believed him, but he’d worn the clothing Bram had insisted upon to make his friend happy.
He opened the door, and a set of chimes tinkled above his head as he stepped into the warmth.
Tables dotted the place, and surprisingly, it was full, even considering the foul weather outside.
The murmur of chatter and scents of the guests mingled with the delicious smells of baking.
Mungo’s mouth watered. He was a big man and needed constant nourishment, plus he enjoyed eating, like most of those he lived with.
Searching the small room, he found his niece’s red hair. Fenella was seated in the corner to his left with her maid. She saw him and smiled, and the tightness inside Mungo eased. She’d made it here safely today.
Fenella was going home soon. The thought actually hurt his chest.
Nodding to guests as he moved between them, he reached her in seconds.
“Uncle Mungo!” She rose and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him hard, which she’d done since their first encounter. He’d gotten used to it and even hugged her back now.
He inhaled her scent and committed it to memory, as there was every chance he’d not see her again after today. Orange blossoms, he thought. Forever would that smell be associated with Fenella, the family member who had sought him out when no one else had.
“Sit, I have ordered enough food for four grown men, so that should satisfy you.” She took his hand, waving him into a seat at the table where her maid already sat.
Fenella had his brother’s coloring and some of his mannerisms. That had been hard to get used to when he’d first seen her.
“Hello, Polly.” Mungo sat after his niece had done the same. He acknowledged the maid, who he’d also come to know in the past five months.
“Good day to you, Mr. Fraser.”
“What happened to your face, Polly?” A bruise marred her left cheek, and her lip was swollen.
“I-I—I fell down the stairs.”
The fact that she didn’t meet Mungo’s eyes when she spoke told him otherwise.
“Did a man give you that?”
She shook her head, wide-eyed and now clearly nervous.
“I asked her that, and she wouldn’t tell me the truth either,” Fenella said. “It happened the day she went to check in with the agency Father employed her through when he was in London.”
“I didn’t know your father came to London,” Mungo said, unsure how he felt about the fact he could have walked straight into his brother. Highly unlikely with the number of people here, but even so, the thought was an unsettling one. He addressed the maid once more. “Who did this to you, lass?”
“It was merely a fall.” She said the words to the plate before her.
Mungo met his niece’s eyes, but she simply shrugged as if to say they’d both tried. He knew when someone had been hurt by another, and Polly had been that, but he could do nothing about it if she’d not tell him who.
“How did you hurt your hand, Uncle?” Fenella asked, noting the handkerchief he’d wrapped around it.
“’Tis of no consequence. Just an encounter with a fool, and nothing more.”
“’Tis our last meeting,” Fenella said instead of pushing for more information. “I long to see my family and Scotland.”
“Aye, I’m sure you do.”
A note had arrived at the Nightingale home a few months ago, and it had read I am your niece, and want to meet you, please, Uncle Mungo. There had been a date, time, and location.
His mother had always known where he was, and clearly it had been she who had given that information to Fenella.
For two days, he’d wavered between going and not going, and then curiosity had got the better of him. Fenella had been a young girl when he’d left Scotland. Sweet natured, if a little wild like him. She’d loved her uncle Mungo, as he’d loved her.
“We are to visit Bath, then return to London for a night before heading home,” Fenella said as plates of food and a pot of tea arrived at their table.
A friend of their family had asked Fenella to travel with them. A man his brother respected, apparently, and who had a daughter his niece’s age. They were best friends.
Mungo thought his brother rash to let her leave him for so long, but it had not been his choice to make.
“And you’ve had a good time here and will be heading back to Scotland with many memories,” Mungo said, taking the cup Fenella handed him.
His fingers felt large and clumsy holding the small, delicate cup covered in pink flowers. It better suited a woman’s hands than his. He’d found that forgoing the handle and gripping the entire cup worked best.
“Oh aye,” she said. “I’ve done so many wonderful things and purchased lovely gifts for them back home.”
“Have you, now.”
“We attended the theatre last night. It was a pantomime.”
He smiled and bit into the wedge of cake she’d put on his plate as she chatted about all she’d seen. It was always like this. He and Polly sat and listened, laughing when she made them, while Fenella talked.
Her father had been like that. Calder could step into a room and command everyone’s attention. Mungo had always been the exact opposite. He didn’t like people to notice him unless he wanted them to.
Looking at her brought back memories of when they’d been children. Boys running wild, until they’d grown apart. Two brothers so different, there was no way they could remain close. The difference they’d once celebrated became a wall neither could breech.
“Granny would like to see you, Uncle, especially since Grandpa has passed.” Fenella looked at him like she always did, with a touch of sadness in her eyes for what he’d walked away from.
He’d known his father had died, as his mother had written that to him in a letter. He’d mourned the man briefly, but they’d never been close, and he was the reason he’d left, which meant Mungo could return if he wanted to.
A hard man, the late Calder Fraser Sr. had been someone who disliked having his word challenged, and the single time Mungo had done just that there had been no going back. He’d thought his brother would have his back in this, but he’d been wrong there too.
He knew his mother wished to see him again because she asked him to come home at the bottom of every letter she wrote. But the truth was, he didn’t know how. So much time and distance lay between them now. To his mind, it was just better to leave well enough alone.
Yes, his mother was getting older, and were she to die before he saw her, he’d never forgive himself, but the thought of going home both terrified and excited him. He told himself the Nightingale family would not survive without him, but he knew better. It was he who would struggle without them.
“I write to her every month, Fenella.”
Her face screwed up in displeasure. “She’s your mam, Uncle, and deserves that from you. Father too. You and he are brothers. You need to talk. So many years have passed. Surely—”
“Leave it now, lass.”
She exhaled loudly, looking like an angry child.
Fenella, he’d quickly come to realize, had a lot of his brother in her. She got straight to the point and then proceeded to hammer it home until a person yielded. Mungo was not really someone who yielded to anyone or anything anymore.
“I’ve asked both you and my father what happened between you, and neither of you will tell me.”
“I’m not discussing him with you, Fenella.”
“It’s been many years since you left. Surely you’ve both changed and grown since then?”
His sigh was loud and weighty.
“I love my father,” she said softly.
“As you should, because he’s your father.”
“But you don’t?”
“I do, because he’s my brother, but that doesn’t mean we like each other very much, Fenella.” Mungo knew only honesty would do now.
They’d danced around the topic of what lay between him and Calder since she’d come to London. It seemed the time for dancing was now done.
“What happened to send you away from your home, Uncle Mungo?”
He looked at Polly to see how she was reacting to this conversation. She was looking at her cup, clearly as uncomfortable as he was. One of her hands was cradling her damaged cheek.
Mungo stomped down the anger. He could do nothing about it if the woman had no wish for him to.
“We’re just different people, Fenella. Let’s leave it there now,” he added as she opened her mouth. “It’s my hope the fog has cleared before you travel.”
“Aye, it’s my hope also,” she said, looking sad. “I’ll miss you, Uncle.”
He felt it again, that spike of heat in his chest at her words.
“I’ll miss you too, lass.” The words came out gruff.
They talked for a while longer, and he pretended to enjoy everything he ate, when the truth was, it tasted like dust now. He wouldn’t hear her sweet laugh, or have her tease him, again.
“Right, now we’ll call you a hackney, and you’ll head straight home, as you cannae see a hand in front of your face out there, niece. Your friend and her family will worry for you if you take too long.”
They rose together, and then Fenella gave him a final hug.
Slipping a hand into his inside pocket as he pulled back, Mungo took out the box he’d placed there earlier. He handed it to his niece.
“There are two things in there. One for you, and the other for your granny. Tell her I love her.” Mungo then bent and kissed her soft cheek one last time. He walked away before she could speak, turning at the door to see her watching him with tears running down her cheeks.
It almost broke his heart.