Chapter 6 #2
“Bloody hell, Garret, you look a wreck.”
“I don’t know how it happened.” Garret eyed the mangled hat in his hands. “Somehow it was arranged that I should take her driving in Hyde Park next week.”
“Oh.” Daire grimaced.
“Exactly. She’ll have no end of criticism for the way I drive. I should probably just hand her the reins.”
“At least Mama will allow you through the door now.”
Garret’s face brightened. “Thank God for small mercies. I need to talk to Mrs. Ashworth.” He began to walk, and Daire fell in step beside him.
“You still wish to speak to Mrs. Ashworth about chimney sweeps?”
“I want to speak to the chimney sweep himself, but I’ll start with our housekeeper.”
“I forget, why are you so interested in chimney sweeps?”
Garret lifted his hat to his head, remembered its sorry state, and tucked it under his arm. “You can’t have forgotten because I didn’t tell you.”
“Why don’t you tell me now, or is it a secret?”
Garret began to wonder if Daire had waited for him in Grosvenor Square just to find out what he was up to. Garret wasn’t the mysterious sort, but he was discreet. “It’s not so much a secret as not my story to tell.”
“Whose story is it?”
Garret walked on, debating how much, if anything, to tell his brother about Tamsin Archer.
It was his own fault Daire was so curious.
If Garret hadn’t mentioned chimney sweeps, Daire’s curiosity wouldn’t have been piqued.
But Garret hadn’t been able to think of anything or anyone but Miss Archer since their meeting last night.
He hated to admit it, but he wanted a reason to talk about her.
“It has to do with Tamsin Archer,” Garret said, liking the sound of her name spoken aloud. She seemed more real to him after speaking her name, not simply a phantom figure he’d imagined meeting last night.
“Who? Is she an heiress?”
Garret laughed and shook his head. “Not in the slightest. She’s a destitute woman who works at a coffee shop in Covent Garden.”
“Go on.”
“I was trying to help her.”
“Why—never mind, I forget you’re the one always bringing home birds with broken wings and orphaned hedgehogs. She must be a lost cause.”
Garret felt the rush of annoyance only his siblings could spark in him. He pointed at Daire. “That hedgehog had a long and happy life. He’s probably still scurrying about the Irish countryside.”
“And Miss Archer? What’s her story?”
“She has a younger brother and sister sold to a chimney sweep who goes by the unfortunate moniker of Snoozer. He’s asking ten pounds for their freedom.”
Daire whistled. “No small sum.”
“No, and you know what the life of a broomer is like.”
Daire grimaced, probably imagining, as Garret did, the miserable existence broomers suffered. They spent their days shimmying up and down tight chimneys, scraping the soot from the walls, and collecting the ash.
“How will you get the blunt?” Daire asked.
“I’m not paying that rogue so much as a ha’penny. He’s extorting money from Miss Archer, claiming it’s to feed and house her siblings. No matter how much she pays, it will never be enough to buy back her brother and sister.”
“Then what is your plan?”
“I’ll find this Snoozer and persuade him it’s in his best interest to give me the children.”
“A threat? A man like that has probably been threatened too many times to count.”
“Not by me.” Garret gave Daire a hard look. Daire took a cautious step back.
“You think Mrs. Ashworth knows him?”
“It’s a possibility. If not, perhaps she can tell me where to find the sweep who cleans our chimneys. He must know this Snoozer.”
“And you think he’ll tell you where to find him? Not likely.”
“If that doesn’t work, I have another idea.”
“What’s that?”
Garret glanced at him. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“No.”
Garret shrugged. They walked in silence for a moment, then Daire said, “How did you meet her? This Miss Archer?”
Suddenly, Garret felt rather warm. He slipped a finger under his collar and tugged. “I don’t remember.”
“Oh yes you do. Was it at this coffee shop?”
“That’s right.” Garret tugged at his collar again.
“You really are an awful liar. Where was it in truth?”
“A ball.” Garret could feel his cheeks redden with heat.
“What the devil was a serving woman from Covent Garden doing at a ball?”
“That’s not important.”
“Which ball?” Daire demanded. But they’d only been to one ball in the last few days, and Daire was smart as a whip. “Not the thief from the Belgrave ball,” Daire said. “Don’t tell me she was stealing to buy back her brother and sister.”
Garret said nothing.
“That is the story she’s telling you. She told you a different one that night. How do you know she’s not lying?”
“Because I met this Snoozer myself. Now, do you intend to harangue me all the way home or can you allow me some peace in which to think?”
“You can have all the peace you want. I just remembered I have an appointment.”
“Good day then.”
Daire tipped his hat and went his own way.
Garret watched him for a moment then remembered he’d forgotten to press Daire as to why he’d been visiting the Stanhope residence.
Daire must be courting Lady Callista. Garret had to settle this matter with Miss Archer before his brothers snatched all the heiresses for themselves.
· · ·
Mrs. Brown was a bit peevish, as her mother liked to say.
Tamsin knew what this meant. She kept out of the kitchen and jumped to clear tables, wipe everything clean, and refill coffee mugs before she was asked.
Molly and Peggy wiped tables as well, or at least pretended to.
This morning their mother had screamed at both for being lazy and spoiled.
Tamsin had pretended not to hear, but it had been hard to hide her smile.
Finally, during a lull in the afternoon, Mrs. Brown went out. No one asked where or when she’d be back. No one cared. Tamsin could finally let her shoulders drop, and Molly and Peggy collapsed at their favorite table in the corner and complained that their feet hurt.
Tamsin slipped into the kitchen and found her mother drying the last of the dishes and stacking them on the shelf. “Another plate of supper?” her mother asked.
“No. There’s only a handful of men out there, and they’ll make their coffee last as long as possible.”
“Good. Then come over here a moment.”
Tamsin followed her mother to the larder.
Her mother pushed the curtain aside and moved a few earthenware jars over, revealing a piece of cheesecloth.
With a quick look over her shoulder, Mrs. Archer unwrapped the cloth and showed Tamsin the contents within—a round bun, a small apple, and a piece of hard cheese.
“What’s this?”
“Your dinner. Hurry and eat it.”
Tamsin shook her head. “I can’t eat your food, Mama.”
“It’s not mine. Peggy cleared a few tables the other day, and I plucked this from her tray. I hid it in my apron until I could give it to you.”
Tamsin hugged her mother then snatched up the cheese and ate it in two bites. “Thank you. But you shouldn’t risk yourself for me.”
Her mother gave her a narrow look. “And why Mrs. Brown should care if you eat what someone else paid for is beyond me. It was bound for the rubbish bin. Why shouldn’t you have it?”
Tamsin nodded and broke the bun in half. “You eat half. No, Mama, don’t shake your head. Eat it. Mrs. Brown’s idea of one meal a day would only be enough for a toddler.”
Her mother took the bread, ate a bite, and chewed it slowly. “One day we’ll leave this place.”
Tamsin chewed her own piece of bread and made no comment. She’d heard this story before. When she’d been younger, she’d believed it. Now it was simply a comforting fairy tale.
“One day we’ll buy Charlie and Joanna back, and we’ll find a little house in Cheapside. I’ll plant flowers in window boxes and hang the sheets to dry in the yard, so when we climb in bed at night, they smell of sunshine and fresh air.”
“You forgot what we’ll do before we go to bed.”
“So I did. After supper, we’ll sit in our comfortable parlor.
It won’t be fancy. The couch will be lumpy and the chairs faded and worn, but it will be ours.
We’ll light a cozy fire, and you can read to us.
Perhaps the children will ask to play charades or spillikins.
We’ll be together, and we’ll laugh, and we’ll live. We’ll just be happy.”
Tamsin knew this was only a dream, perhaps the only thing her mother had to hang on to, but she didn’t spoil it by saying what she thought. We’ll never be together like that.
The only life ahead of her was one of endless work, an empty belly, and evenings where she was so tired she could barely undress before she fell onto her pallet on the floor.
“There’ll be no more Snoozer to fleece us or Mrs. Brown to bark her orders.”
A floorboard creaked, and Tamsin glanced at the outside door. Mrs. Brown stood there, hands on her hips, lips curved in what passed for a smile. Tamsin shoved the apple in her apron. “Mrs. Brown, we were just taking inventory of the larder.”
Her mother hadn’t heard the creak of the floorboard and whirled to see their employer start toward them.
“Oh, really? Looks to me like you were stealing from us.”
Tamsin shook her head. “No. We’d never do that.”
“Empty your pockets then.”
Tamsin swallowed. Her mother stepped in front of her and made a show of turning out her pockets. “There you are, Mrs. Brown. Nothing at all inside.”
Mrs. Brown pushed Mama aside then stood before Tamsin.
Tamsin was about three inches taller than Mrs. Brown, though they probably weighed about the same.
And yet, she felt very small looking down at the woman.
“Mr. Brown will be looking for me,” she said.
“I’d better get back to work.” Tamsin turned to go, but Mrs. Brown snatched her hair and twisted it so viciously, Tamsin gasped.
In a half crouch, Tamsin scurried across the floor as Mrs. Brown pulled her to the shop door.
“Mr. Brown!” she hollered, kicking the door open. “We have a thief.”