“I previously considered Sustar an honorable man,” Benjamin groused. “However, he is working our Miss Whitchurch at least twelve hours each day. No wonder she collapsed a fortnight prior.”
“Such is likely why Mr. Sustar did not ask her to come in on Friday night,” Brunswick remarked, “though Miss Whitchurch said something about Sustar being upset, for a shipment did not arrive on time.”
Benjamin mused, “So he means to have her make up those hours over the next few weeks. I may be required to have a hard talk with the man.” He sighed heavily. “Did the lady take a proper meal with her?” Benjamin asked in disappointment.
“Yes. Cook added several extra items,” Brunswick assured.
“Good. Very good,” Benjamin said in distraction, wondering what he could do to make her path easier. “I have work to do. Thank you for your diligence.”
“My lord,” Brunswick said with a touch of urgency in his tone. “May I make an observation?”
Benjamin stepped closer. “Has it something to do with Miss Whitchurch and the child?”
“I cannot say with any assurance, my lord, but…” The footman heaved a heavy sigh. “Each evening, I set Miss Whitchurch down at the opening of the close that backs up to Sustar’s shop, as well as several other such establishments. I stop along the opposing street and the lady generally steps down without assistance, turns to claim the food and her bags, presents me a wave and a smile and walks away.”
“I understand,” Benjamin said in confusion. “How is that significant?”
“In the morning, as there is no one around, I stop on the same side of the road as the close’s opening so I might spot her when Miss Whitchurch departs Sustar’s shop.”
Benjamin knew he frowned, but he permitted Brunswick to finish his tale before interrupting.
“Obviously, the later the lady is permitted to depart the shop, the more people are around, starting their days and so forth; however, there has been a man—well, I think it is a man—standing in the shadows of another shop’s rear door, a shop not presently occupied, for I made it my business to have a look. He has made no advance towards the lady, but I have wondered what he is doing in the doorway and what might happen if I was not there.”
Benjamin’s frown deepened. “You are thinking something sinister?”
“Miss Whitchurch is still too trusting,” Brunswick observed. “No criticism intended, my lord. It is just…”
“I comprehend. Thank you for speaking of your suspicions. I will accompany you tomorrow morning. Perhaps we should be waiting where those in the close cannot view us,” he instructed.
Victoria stretched herarms above her head and rotated her neck in a circular motion to loosen her shoulders. She would be glad to claim her bed for a few hours. “But not until I have breakfast with his lordship,” she thought. “I plan to treasure each of these moments. Remember them for my old age.”
She would be glad to curl up on the unadorned mattress for a few hours and then rise to tend the boy and pretend Lord Thompson’s presence did not fill her with sorrow, for no matter how much Victoria had come to admire his lordship, nothing could ever happen between them beyond some sort of friendship. Cassandra’s foolishness had seen to Victoria’s future prospects.
“It would be ironic, though not probable,” her mind announced, “if Cassandra’s hopes of being a baroness would lead me to being a countess.” She shook her head for thinking such was pure foolishness. “Be realistic, Victoria. Take your head down from the clouds.”
As she rearranged the items in her bags to make them easier to carry, she could not quite forsake her whimsy. “His lordship is dependable enough even to impress my mother. It assuredly would be wonderful to have someone who listened to me as does Lord Thompson. My opinions appear to matter to the man.”
A second sigh of longing escaped before she could stifle it. “I shall be a good friend to him or as good as society permits.”
She purposely shrugged the tension from her shoulders a second time. One of the two girls who assisted her handed Victoria her cloak. “See you tomorrow or I should say tonight.”
Both girls left together, but, as was customary, Victoria lingered to learn if Mr. Sustar had any new instructions for her. She heard him come down the stairs and let the other girls out the door. Meanwhile, her mind returned to Lord Thompson. “No other man would go to such trouble to assist me and the child. His lordship is a man who lives by a private code of right and wrong. Not a man who hands a woman a line of sweet talk.” She chuckled. “He is nearly as awkward socially as am I.”
“Good morning, Miss Whitchurch,” Mr. Sustar said from some place behind her.
She turned to greet him. “Good morning, Mr. Sustar. I simply paused to see if you had further instructions for me.”
“None that comes to mind at this time, but likely something will occur before you return this evening,” he assured her.
This was their morning routine, which in an odd way was very comforting.
She picked up her belongings and nodded for him to lead the way.
“I will lock the door behind you, Miss Whitchurch,” Sustar said as she passed through the recessed hallway. She nodded her farewell and stepped into the close’s dark shadows. The lock on the door shot into the slot behind her, and she heard Mr. Sustar turn back along the short passage to climb the stairs to the level above. The shop would not open for sales for a few more hours. The men who worked in the drapery shop would arrive a bit after seven.
Before she could prevent it, an odd feeling crept down her spine. “All I must do is reach the opening,” her mind announced, but her feet did not wish to cooperate.
“Who are you?” she called, noting an unusual shadow on the other side of the close. “Is someone there?” She thought there was a movement in the opening, but she continued to study the dark spot against the lighter wood shingles. Her heart hitched higher when a raspy voice declared, “You have something that belongs to me.”
