Chapter 36 #2
At that moment, a young girl entered the front room of the bakery holding a tray of treacle buns.
They were larger and dripped with more sugar glaze than the ones Jack favored.
Michael had a fleeting thought that if Jack knew about Auntie Ann’s buns, he would frequent her establishment, which would perhaps only cause her misfortune.
What also struck him was that the young girl was the exact likeness of Lotty. The young actress had been the paramour of Antonius Dunbar, the playwright who had been turned into a Berserker, all because Michael had questioned him about Jack. Lotty, too, had been killed by Silas because of Michael.
He swallowed as he looked at the girl. She could be no more than eight years old, and she had been orphaned because of him.
Such dark thoughts were familiar to him, and yet at the same time he suddenly heard Miss Sauber’s gentle voice saying, She is orphaned because of the Citadel, not because of you.
He found that his spirits did not sink quite as low as they normally would have, but he could not help the touch of melancholy that seized him as he looked at the young girl.
Michael realized that Auntie Ann had noticed his gaze lingering on the young girl, and he asked, “Is that Lotty’s daughter?”
“Did you know her, sir? Yes, I took her in after her mother was killed. Introduce yourself, girl.”
She bobbed a curtsy, which made some of the treacle buns slide dangerously close to the edge of the tray. “How do you do, sir? My name is Ivy.”
Miss Gardinier’s gaze upon Ivy darkened with sorrow, turning from gold to a light amber color. She nodded in reply and turned to Auntie Ann. “Give us a dozen of those treacle buns, also, if you please.”
Then she gave Michael a hard stare. He stifled a sigh as he pulled out his money pouch once again to add more coins upon the counter.
After collecting the buns, wrapped in brown paper, Miss Gardinier hesitated, then said, “I am acquainted with Lady Wynwood, and she would wish me to tell you that Clara and Calvin will not be able to come by the bakery for a few weeks.”
After Septimus had visited Auntie Ann with Calvin when they were searching for Michael, he had told her ladyship about the baker’s fondness for the twins.
After that, Lady Wynwood sent them to Jem Town once every week or two to buy sweet buns from Auntie Ann, who was happy to spoil the children when she saw them.
“Oh?” Auntie Ann put a hand on her hip. “Are they well?”
“They are well, but her ladyship has decided to leave London early this Season, and she has already sent them into the country.”
Auntie Ann looked crestfallen. “She was a little too late, then,” she murmured. Then she asked Miss Gardinier, “Shall you see her ladyship soon?”
“Yes.”
“Then if you would be so good as to wait here a moment, miss.”
She bustled into the kitchen and returned only a few moments later holding a small leather pouch that clinked with coins as well as a heavily creased piece of paper folded into a note.
There was no address written on the outside.
“I wonder if you might give this to her ladyship for the twins? I should be most grateful.”
Michael picked up the pouch of coins and the letter and placed them in his pockets without looking very closely at them.
Auntie Ann continued, “Sinah heard that the twins started coming around every so often, and she stopped by to leave that leather pouch for them, for the next time they came. But I told her that lemon cake and treacle bun would much prefer a letter from their mother rather than mere pocket change, so I convinced her to write a short note to them.”
Considering Auntie Ann’s forceful personality, Michael imagined she bullied rather than “convinced” the twins’ mother, Sinah Eades, but she was one of the few people who could.
“Thank you,” Miss Gardinier said.
“Sinah isn’t a bad sort,” Auntie Ann said, “but I’ve never seen a woman more uncomfortable with children, even though they were her own. She’s been busy lately, taking over Maner’s business.”
Maner Hansen, who had also doted on the twins when they were living in Jem Town, had traded in information, and he paid several people—from dockworkers to beggars to pickpockets—to eavesdrop and ask casual questions, keeping abreast of the latest news and gossip.
But he had run afoul of a group of French agents, and because he had stolen some of Jack’s Goldensuit plants, Mr. Drydale had felt it was safer for him to leave England entirely.
He had been placed on a boat to the Colonies weeks ago.
“We shall deliver the coins and the note promptly,” Michael promised.
Auntie Ann nodded with satisfaction, seeing something in his face that satisfied her.
After giving their thanks, Michael and Miss Gardinier exited the shop. “I hope the twins will not be upset by the note,” Miss Gardinier muttered.
“If Auntie Ann coerced Sinah Eades into writing it, I’m certain she looked over her shoulder to check what she wrote,” Michael said.
Miss Gardinier turned her steps toward the church steeple that could be just seen over the roofs of the houses in the distance. “Well, let us see what the Oriental apothecary might know.”
Michael followed her deeper into Jem Town. This Oriental might indeed be the one man in London who could tell them of the origin of the Goldensuit.
But considering everything he knew about Maxham and the Citadel, Michael was not entirely certain if the man would be willing to speak.