Chapter Seven
“Miss Whitchurch,” Mr.Sustar said with a lift of his eyebrows in obvious dismay. “What have you there?”
Victoria held no doubt regarding what was going to happen, but she had been desperate. She had slept perhaps three hours before she was awakened by a patch of dampness along her side where she still held the baby. Even so, she fought opening her eyes, but her sleepmate had stirred to life quicker than had she. There was a chirp, a grunt of displeasure, and then a wail of complaint.
Victoria had bolted upward, juggling the baby against her until her wits arrived, and then she shushed the child repeatedly despite its protest.
Almost immediately, a knock came at her door, just a tap… then another and another, each louder than the one before, until the baby began his protests again, as the knocking became louder and more persistent. Victoria had jerked the door open and tucked the child closer to her chest. Her continued nightmare had arrived in the person of Mrs. Holland, her landlady. Mrs. Holland was scowling, which was never a good sign.
“Miss Whitchurch? What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Holland demanded.
The woman’s angry words had set the child to crying louder.
“Shush. Shush, sweetheart,” Victoria pleaded.
“This house is meant for unmarried or widowed women, not for any woman with a child,” Mrs. Holland stated in firm tones.
Mrs. Taylor stepped out in the hall to offer her opinions. “The child does not belong to Miss Victoria, Mrs. Holland. All of us know that, including you, so do not threaten her.”
“Then to whom does the child belong?” Mrs. Holland asked with a snit of hurt in her voice at having been called upon the carpet.
Victoria watched as Mrs. Taylor set their house mistress straight. “Miss Whitchurch’s sister returned when you were with the grocer yesterday afternoon. She was carrying a basket. She left in the night’s middle. At first, I thought it was you coming in, dearie, but I know you would not be out on the street while it is still dark.”
“Miss Cassandra left the child with you?” Mrs. Holland demanded.
Victoria did not know how to respond to the question. “I was too exhausted to think this through,” she admitted. She looked back to the room and realized she should have searched for a note. “I just assumed Cassandra had gone out for food for the child. I held him, and we slept together.” She looked about her for some form of confirmation.
“That was close to four hours earlier than when you came in,” Mrs. Taylor suggested meekly.
“Perhaps Cassandra has found employment,” Victoria said in hopeful tones.
“But I still do not accept women with children,” Mrs. Holland had repeated.
“Miss Whitchurch has paid her rent, has she not?” Mrs. Taylor asked.
“Yes, but…” Mrs. Holland began.
“You cannot remove her unless you return her rents,” Mrs. Taylor said with authority. “My son is a solicitor, Mrs. Holland, if you wish to consult with him on this matter.”
“That means you have eleven days until the quarter is complete, Miss Whitchurch,” Mrs. Holland hissed. “Less if the child disturbs the household while we are sleeping.” Victoria’s landlady turned and stormed back to her room.
“Bring the child and the basket down, Miss Whitchurch, and I shall give you a lesson on caring for the… boy or girl?” the lady asked.
“I did not look,” Victoria admitted.
Mrs. Taylor smiled. “I imagine it is a boy. Little boys can piddle upward, and the child has left a nice splotch along your side. Bring a change of clothes for you, as well.”
That had been some six hours earlier. It amazed Victoria how easily Mrs. Taylor had removed the child’s wet nappy and showed Victoria how to clean the child and place a new nappy on the baby. “Be assured you point his little thing away from you,” Mrs. Taylor said with an encouraging smile, “unless you want his ‘discharge,’ shall we say, in your mouth or your eyes when you bend over him.”
“You jest, do you not? Victoria asked in awe.
“Had myself two sons and a daughter,” Mrs. Taylor reminded Victoria.
“What am I to feed him?” Victoria pleaded.
“I suppose you cannot afford a wet nurse?”
“I barely have enough to feed me,” Victoria admitted. “I was presented with a few extra pennies per quarter, but that is not money in hand. As you well know, I have been working late evenings and at night, for Mr. Sustar has paid me to hem drapes for his patrons and to decorate them. He has hired two assistants and expects to expand his business, but he does not wish all the women in the shop during the day with the young men servicing his customers.”
