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* * *
At breakfast the next morning, Lord Lockhart arrived in a foul mood. He slammed down a pineapple on the table in front of Madeleine with so much force, the cups rattled. ‘Well, I finally managed to buy one for less than a prize hunter, but almost forfeit my life in the process!’ He slumped into a chair, looking haggard. Late nights and early mornings did not suit him.
Madeleine picked up the pineapple, so exotic and beautiful, still with its stalk where it had been cut from the plant. The long sea journey had barely left its mark; the stalk was withered, but its crown of green waxy leaves were upright and green. ‘It’s rather marvellous! And it smells lovely.’ She put her nose to its yellow scales. ‘Grandmama will be glad to have it, Edwin.’
Lord Lockhart was still grumpy. ‘So she should. Not only did I climb from my cot at five this morning to ride to the Docks, I was greeted by a pimp-master who thought I was looking for some female company. When I demurred, he chased me out of his territory uttering devilish oaths and flailing a club.’
Madeleine’s face registered her interest in his tale and the young man suddenly remembered she was a lady and he should not speak so frankly to her of such matters.
In a more subdued voice, he continued, ‘Then I found a scurvy-looking cove with a basket of five pineapples and had to bargain for a good ten minutes until he let me have this one for two pounds! I could have bought a pair of Schweitzer and Davidson’s best shirts for that. I hope being in Grandmama’s good books is worth it!’
He then looked up with a cheerier face. ‘You’re a good sort, Maddie. We take you for granted, but you’re always generous and fair. Thank you for plying my suit to Grandmama.’
Madeleine felt a stab of guilt. In her novel, she had portrayed her cousins so acerbically, killing off two and making Edwin Lockhart a wicked bounder whose libertine ways lay waste to the family’s finances, although she was a trifle hazy as to quite what some of those libertine ways entailed. She smiled what she hoped was not a Judas smile and said, ‘Dot and I will be going to Lady Lockhart’s this afternoon. I’ll take your pineapple then.’
* * *
It was past two in the afternoon by the time Madeleine collected Dot and together they wrapped the pineapple in paper and put it in a canvas bag. There was a sense of anticipation. Neither knew what it tasted like and were hoping that old Lady Lockhart might be so keen to have some herself she would ask Cook to cut it into pieces and then everyone could have a taste, whether invited to or not.
Grandmother’s house was in the northerly section of Davies Street, but Madeleine was in the habit of going the longer way round by heading for the Square and then turning east into Brook Street so she could walk past the Shilton mansion on the corner. It was a perfect English summer day with a cloud-dappled sky, the afternoon sun warm on their backs. Birds were singing in the Grosvenor Square gardens and children laughing as some with hoops chased one another round the circular paths, followed by their nursemaids’ plaintive cries.
As they approached Mr Shilton’s house, there was some delivery on the doorstep. Walking closer they saw what looked like a doll’s waving arm. Only when Madeleine stood at the bottom of the front steps was she astounded to see the curly blond hair of a baby, sitting in a wooden apple crate, apparently perfectly happy, his chubby arms emerging from a blue coat that was too small for him.
Madeleine ran up the stairs and picked up the gurgling infant. On his big toe was tied a label with a name, Billy. He was the handsomest baby she had ever seen, with his curls and his blue eyes and laughing face. What was he doing here?
She knocked on the door. It was immediately opened by Maltby, Ferdy Shilton’s very grand butler, who was trained not to betray any emotion, however amusing or shocking the situation he may face. To see a strange young woman carrying a smiling baby who looked worryingly like his master evinced the barest widening of the eyes.
‘Good afternoon. Would it be possible to see Mr Shilton?’ The baby was growing quite heavy in Madeleine’s arms.
‘I’ll see if he is available. Who shall I say is calling, er, Miss…?’
‘Miss Rose.’
‘You and your maid had better come in, Miss Rose.’ Maltby was formal and always polite. ‘If you’d like to sit in this chair.’ He indicated a Jacobean chair that stood grandly at the foot of the stairs.
Madeleine was indeed glad to sit down. Billy, if that was his name, was a well-fed lad of about nine months and in such good humour, he was wriggling in her arms, trying to catch her bonnet ribbons. She heard quick light steps and looked up to see Ferdinand Shilton hurrying towards her, an expression of concern on his face. He stopped dead when he saw the baby, who by now was standing on Madeleine’s lap and laughing while she held his hands to steady him.
‘What the devil! Miss Rose. Who is this and where did you find him?’
‘I’m as astonished as you, Mr Shilton. I was walking past with Dot on my way to my grandmother’s house when I saw this baby sitting in an apple crate on your doorstep.’
‘An apple crate?’
Maltby had brought in the offending container and placed it on the floor. ‘Yes, an apple crate, Sir. And there’s a letter.’ He handed his master a folded piece of paper.
Mr Shilton read it, growing paler in the process. ‘Come into my library, Miss Rose. This needs some thought.’
Dot followed them into the room and went to sit discreetly in the far window, although she was agog to know more. Madeleine and Ferdinand Shilton sat down in chairs on either side of the fireplace and Billy made it clear he wished for more freedom and was struggling to be put on the floor.
Mr Shilton’s face was pale and serious. He handed the folded paper to Madeleine. ‘It’s clear the boy’s mother wishes to take up an offer of marriage that does not include her son. She has asked me to take care of him until she can return to claim him. She is adamant that he should not go to the Foundling Hospital for babies and children. This puts me in a difficult position, Miss Rose, I don’t mind telling you.’
Madeleine opened the letter and read the carefully printed words:
Mr Shilton,
I know you for the Kindest and Richest man in London and I beg you to take Care of my Billy until I can return for him. He is the Sweetest and Best baby anyone could want. I am only leaving him with you because a good York man, a Tavern owner, has offered to Marry me but does not want a Bastard too.
I have pinned a piece of ribbon to his coat. I have the other half. Please keep it safe so when I return I can prove he is my Son. Above everything, Please don’t allow him to be sent to The Foundling. No Baby comes out of that place well and Happy. But I know with You he will be Both.
