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Jack’s bright eyes dimmed a little. “Oh. Lady Harriett said a man was coming today to take me to a place called Newcastle. I thought you was him. Are you a doctor, then?”
“No. I’m one of the governors of this”—he’d been about to say facility—“house,” he finished. It was strange to acknowledge it, even to a child. The mantle of ownership that settled over his shoulders at the admission, however, wasn’t nearly as heavy or onerous as he’d expected. “Are you happy here?”
The boy’s brow puckered as though he could hardly understand why he was being asked such a question. “It’s a lot better than where I come from,” he said, shrugging. “It’s warm, I get plenty to eat, and there ain’t no rats or snatchers.”
Roland stared at the sunny-faced child. “Good, good,” he murmured, nodding. “Well, I shall leave you, then. Is...is there anything you require?”
The boy shook his head. “No, sir. I’ve just had me breakfast—more than I could eat, which is saying something.” He chortled, patting the faint bulge at his middle with evident satisfaction. “Nurse Hayes says I’m supposed to sleep now until she comes for me.”
“Very well. Then I shall bid you good day,” said Roland, nodding and turning toward the door.
“Sir?” piped the little voice.
He turned. “Yes?”
“If you see Lady Harriett, tell her I said thank you for the boat.” He pulled a tiny wooden boat from beneath the blankets and held it up proudly.
“I’ll do that,” he promised. Turning again, he let himself out. Thoughts flitted about in his head like startled birds as he meandered down the hall, letting his feet take him where they would. He climbed the stairs and went into the nursery. The woman sitting vigil with the infants nodded and smiled, recognizing him from his last visit. He returned her silent greeting with a nod and went to the window.
There in the courtyard below, which was now enclosed by the new walls, he saw children running to and fro, playing. The faint, high sounds of children at play bled through the glass. A flash of white caught his eye—and there was Harriett in her apron, chasing a little girl who scampered away from her while squealing in delight.
Harriett’s entire face was lit with joy as she pursued the child, at the last second allowing her to escape. Their peals of laughter were like music. Back and forth they went until the child stopped running and reached up to her. Bending, Harriett picked her up and showered her plump little face with kisses.
A sensation very similar to the pain he’d experienced last night again exploded in Roland’s chest.
He’d never known his mother. She’d died giving birth to him. His brother had often spoken of her. According to him, she’d been a warm, caring, gentle woman. He’d also described their father as a very different man while she was alive; a man who’d smiled readily and laughed a great deal. William said that when she died, it was as though she’d taken all of their father’s joy with her. Without her, he’d become the hard-bitten, critical man Roland had grown up knowing.
He stared at Harriett. For all that he’d thought her argumentative, confrontational, and difficult in general, she seemed to carry a light inside herself. It permeated the very walls here and was reflected in the faces of everyone around him. He’d been to other orphanages with William many years ago when his brother had first started having altruistic ideas. They’d been dreary buildings full of nothing but want and despair.
William might have begun this charity, but Harriett was the reason for its success. She was the reason it was a happy place.
Frozen to the spot, he watched her, confused and unsure of his feelings. He’d wanted to help her find a husband so that he could go with a clear conscience back to the life he’d known. But that life now seemed empty and pointless. The selfish part of him wanted to keep her here in the hope that she would somehow infect him with the same light and joy he saw all around him.
But that was impossible—wasn’t it? She was right. Up until now, there had been nothing but conflict between them. Could it ever be different? He’d pondered it before, but only as a passing fancy—could he ever become someone she would like, perhaps even admire?
He’d never be William; that much was certain. But looking down on Harriett Dunhaven’s sunlit face, he had to know whether or not it was possible to change things between them.
The first step would be learning how to run this place properly. Wrenching himself away from the window, he left the nursery.
~ * ~
A prickle ran down Harriett’s back. He was watching her. She dare not look, but she knew. Mary had tired herself out and was ready for a nap, so she carried the toddler in and gave her to one of the nurses, then stopped by to check on Jamie. It was the last time she would see him before he went to Newcastle. The priest was coming later today to pick him up, along with Jack and several others.
When she arrived at Jamie’s room, however, she was surprised to see he already had a visitor. Manchester was with him—and he was talking to the boy.
“She says I’ll be able to learn more there,” Jamie was saying, “but I’d rather stay here.”
“Why?” asked Manchester
“I don’t know what it’ll be like there.”
“Don’t you trust Lady Harriett to send you to a place that is good?”
Harriett’s stomach clenched. What was he about, asking questions like that of the boy?
“Well of course I do, but it’s just that I like it here,” said Jamie.
“I’m sure you’ll like it there, too,” said Manchester, his voice remarkably gentle.
