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From the rocking chair by the fire, Scarlett looked up and motioned for quiet. “Shhh…” She brushed a lock of fine light hair away from the face of the sleeping figure in her arms. “You only just missed her. Darling little one fell asleep naught but five minutes ago.”
“I am sorry to be late.” Nora shed her cloak and hung it by the door, moving forward to study the child sleeping in her friend’s arms.
Lydia. Her darling babe of nearly four years. She’d not thought she could love the babe more than she did when she was growing within her, but the birth of her darling daughter had quickly proved her wrong. And in all the time since, her affection had only grown stronger, deeper and richer.
She smiled at the sleeping toddler curled in Scarlett’s arms. Her friend had been as good as her word all those years ago. She’d given them shelter and safety, home and hearth. Lydia’s birth had changed nothing, save to make Scarlett as devoted to the wee babe as Nora herself was.
If ever something happened to Nora, Lydia would not lack a mother figure, not so long as Scarlett was there.
Nora fished in her pocket and pulled out the purse she’d collected from the steward earlier in the day. She set it on the table, careful to avoid letting the coins clink too loudly. “Here. I received my wages today. It ought to be enough to cover rent tomorrow and perhaps a little extra.”
“Extra indeed, for I’ve work tonight.” Scarlett rose, careful not to jostle the sleeping toddler. “There’s a painter a few streets over who asked me to sit for him tonight, and it’s good pay.” She tipped her head. “You must be tired. Have a sit, and I’ll bring you a bite before I go.”
Nora sank gratefully into the chair. Even after years of work, her feet were often sore at the end of the day. “Thank you, Scarlett.”
“It’s nothing much. Bit of day-old bread and a soup.” Scarlett placed Lydia into her arms and moved about, ladling soup into a rough wooden bowl and adding a plate with two thick slices of crusty bread and a cup of small beer.
“As if there’s anything wrong with bread and soup.” Nora smiled and took the offered meal, eating quickly and neatly, careful not to shift too much and wake her daughter. “You know I thank God every day that I met you on the street corner that night in the rain.”
Scarlet laughed, soft and gentle. “As if I don’t do the same. Never mind that I’d not be able to rent a space like this on my own, but what would I do without you and the little one? I’ll swear I’ve not held anyone so dear to my heart as you two, not since I left home.”
She bent and stroked a gentle fingertip over Lydia’s unlined brow. “Truth it is, I’m proper thankful to have met you. You and your little one have given me much; loving company and a proper family.”
“I could say the same.” Nora surrendered her empty bowl and plate to Scarlett and relaxed back against the chair. “You’ll be home before I leave for the estate?”
“I expect so. I shouldn’t be past dawn if even that long.” Scarlett gathered up her wrap and her money pouch. “If I’m later, I’ll see about picking up a hot pastry for breakfast.” She gave Nora one more warm smile, then slid noiselessly out the door, shutting it softly behind her.
Nora shifted to get a little more comfortable, the warmth of the fire seeping into her tired muscles as she gazed at her sleeping child. She lifted a hand and traced a hand down the soft cheek, still with traces of baby fat rounding the chin.
Lydia stirred with a sleepy complaint, blinking blue eyes tiredly before focusing on Nora’s face. A smile lit up the child’s eyes, and she wiggled upright with the boneless ease of the young and wrapped small, slender arms around Nora’s waist. “Mama! You’re home!”
“Yes, darling.” She stroked back her hair as she rose, carrying Lydia to the back room and the larger of the two rough-hewn beds that took up most of the space. “I’m home.”
“Tried to stay awake for you.” The little girl was already snuggling down into the thin sheets, and the handmade blanket one of Scarlett’s clients had gifted them with two Christmases ago.
“I know, dear. I am sorry I was late.” Nora settled herself on the bed between Lydia and the edge. “But I am home now.”
Lydia nodded, her brief spell of wakefulness already fading, despite the child’s efforts to stay awake. “Story?”
“Of course. What story would you like?” Nora settled herself a little more comfortably.
“Pussycat.” The word was softly mumbled but intelligible enough.
“All right then.” Nora cuddled her daughter close and began. “Once, there was a wealthy miller with three sons, and when he passed away, it was declared in his last wishes that his eldest son should inherit the business, his second son should inherit the land and the livestock, and his youngest son should inherit the family cat. And when he heard this, the youngest son was quite unhappy, for his brothers might make a livelihood with their inheritances, but what was he to do with a cat? He was just considering whether he might do better to attempt to find work in some distant town, or to simply fling himself in the river and be done with everything, when lo and behold, the cat sat up on its haunches and addressed him in the language of men. And the cat said to the young man…”
Lydia’s eyes were dropping before the first sentence, and by the time Puss in Boots had received his new boots, the child was fast asleep. Nora smiled but continued her story, content to whisper the words in soft, low tones to lull her daughter into continued slumber.
“...and so it was that the Princess and the young man were married and lived happily together. And as for Puss in Boots, he never wanted for cream or good things to eat, and till the end of his days, he lived in luxury with his master, though he did sometimes deign to hunt mice for the simple enjoyment of the chase.”
Lydia snuffled in her sleep. Nora edged down lower on the bed, not quite ready to sleep but somewhat drowsy from the meal, the warmth of the fire, and the softness of the bed.
Dear Lydia. No matter what happens, I vow this... you shall not share my circumstances and history. If I do nothing else with my life, I shall see to it that you never fall into the hands of men such as the Duke... or the vile seducer who fathered you.
CHAPTERTHREE
The club was full as ever, despite the lateness of the hour. Arthur lounged back in his chair. Ralph was across from him, and Samuel and David were on either side. They’d been playing cards for the past hour, and he’d done better than the night before. The bottle on the table was less than half-full, and he was feeling pleasantly relaxed.
And yet... he could not deny there was something missing this evening. For all he was enjoying himself, something hovered at the edge of his thoughts.
