Chapter Eight
Victoria did notknow how long she had waited, but long enough that she had begun to nod off also, though the child was wide awake and batting his hands about in the air. The boy cooed every time a bird chirped, and she thought the child found it amusing when the bird disappeared and reappeared upon the branch above their heads. For the moment, she was too exhausted to do more than remain seated. Obviously, the baby was too young to have such thoughts or perhaps actually view the bird with any clarity, but Victoria could not resist her musings.
“Ma’am,” a male voice said from some ten feet away. “Theseus says you wished to speak to me.”
Victoria looked up to view a ruggedly handsome face on what anyone would think was a gentleman of society. “Yes, thank you for agreeing to see me. I am confident you are very busy.” She gestured to the other end of the bench. “Might you agree to sit for a few moments? This little one is drifting off to sleep again, and I dare not disturb him.”
He nodded his agreement and sat on the opposing end of the bench. “I do not often find myself keeping genteel company. How oldis the child?”
Victoria knew she frowned, but she could not quite hide it. “In truth, sir, I cannot be assured. The child belongs to my sister. She left him with me nearly a month prior. Cassandra said in a letter to me that a former soldier gave her directions for a possible position as a cook.”
The man’s friendly expression closed down immediately. “There are hundreds, likely thousands of former soldiers in London. We employ a half dozen or so inside the Lyon’s Den. Did your sister name me or another at the Den as the child’s father? If so, I assure you I have not lain with your sister.”
Victoria had yet to become accustomed to the plain speaking of most Londoners. She blushed thoroughly. “I am aware of the child’s father, sir,” she managed to explain. “A man who calls himself a ‘gentleman.’” She swallowed hard, but tears formed in her eyes, nevertheless.
“I see,” the man said. “Then I am confused why you think I would know something about your sister.”
“I called upon your mistress several weeks back,” Victoria was quick to say.
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon?” he asked, in apparent surprise. “The mistress agreed to see you? I do not recall speaking to you previously.”
“The lady called ‘Hermia’ took care of me on that day. I had to wait while your mistress spoke to others,” Victoria explained. “I heard the others speak your name, but until today we have not met.”
“And you are assured of speaking to Mrs. Dove-Lyon? The mistress always wears her widow’s weeds,” he explained.
“And a veil so no one can read her expression,” Victoria added to verify what she said was the truth.
“Did Mrs. Dove-Lyon hold knowledge of your family?” the man asked.
“She did.” Victoria swallowed hard, but she would again be calledupon to speak of her sister’s shame. “This is difficult for me to say, sir, but I assume you have seen humanity at both its best and its worst. I can say, since coming to London, I sometimes find those extremes residing within feet of each other.” She thought of Mrs. Holland and Mrs. Taylor as prime examples.
“I have, miss,” the man admitted. “Why do you not tell me what occurred the last time you were here?”
She swallowed hard again before gently shifting the sleeping baby on her lap. Without looking at the man, she said, “My sister sought employment inside the Lyon’s Den some time in late January or early February. I was not aware of her plans. Cassandra is often rash in her judgment, and, though I came to London to assist her during this trying time, she assuredly assumes she knows what is best.”
“It seems most families have a ‘Cassandra style’ member. You are the dependable one.”
“I was teaching music at a girls’ school in Bath. Unfortunately, it is not only I who has suffered. My father has lost his position as a vicar,” she explained.
“But your sister still takes on the role of the dying soprano in an opera?” the man asked.
Victoria sighed deeply. “We all must find our own paths, must we not, sir?”
“We do, miss. We do,” he said in compassionate tones that went a long way to ease her fears.
She turned to look upon him. “When I spoke to Mrs. Dove-Lyon, the lady explained that she had turned Cassandra away because my sister was already beginning to show the baby’s presence. Cassandra was somewhere past four months along when she came to London in early January to meet me here. When I arrived, I located us a room we might share. Then, she ups and leaves one morning in the latter part of February, or perhaps it was early March. I cannot recall the exact date, for I was too busy working two positions to know what all was goingon with her. I often did not actually see my sister for several days in a row, depending on my work hours.” Victoria paused to organize her thoughts. “Assuredly, you did not need to know my complaints. You have been too kind to listen to my frustrations.”
“Speak to me of your last visit with Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” he redirected her thoughts.
“Of course,” Victoria said with a slight blush. “I called upon your mistress in early April. She explained that she could not offer Cassandra a second chance because she does not employ a woman already carrying a child. Mrs. Dove-Lyon did believe that Cassandra had spoken to another woman with whom your mistress had conducted business previously and who offered my sister a position in a wealthy household. My most recent letter from Cassandra says she had been employed in a household until they learned of her condition.”
“I see,” he said patiently. “Yet, I still do not understand my connection to your sister.”
Victoria shook her head to clear it. “My thoughts are customarily more organized. I have had little sleep of late, but then you did not have a need for that information.” She sat straighter. “When I found Cassandra’s letter in the child’s basket, it said a soldier who had an injury to his hand had told her of an innkeeper who was looking for a cook. I thought perhaps it was you.”
“Pardon,” a familiar voice said in tones of apparent disapproval. “Theseus said I might search the area around the Den. I am still looking for clues to Lord Duncan’s shooting. Am I interrupting?”
Benjamin had setoff from his house earlier than usual, for he wanted to speak to Titan and seek permission before snooping around thegrounds of the Lyon’s Den. He had hoped to search under the bushes and at the base of trees for the missing button. He was relatively confident the person the government sought had used the long coat as part of his disguise. Benjamin simply required one missing piece to pull it all together.
