“I noticed you had company last night,” the cook said, smiling. “Those two girls are attached to you.”
“I know—as I am to them,” Nora said out loud, realizing how true it was. “Once they learn they can climb out…”
“They do it over and over,” laughed Mrs. Simpkins. “’I will look for another bed in the attic. I was up there yesterday and found a box of broadcloth I think we can use, if we wash it. The mice did not do too much damage.”
Nora winced. She would never get used to the mice. Her parents’ home, while not grand, rarely had the little creatures. “I am hoping we can drive those pesky things out of here. I should speak to Grandmama about perhaps installing a couple of cats.”
“I didn’t see any evidence of rats, which is unusual, considering how long the building was empty,” Mrs. Simpkins added. “If we adopt some cats, I would be ’appy to take care of them. I like the dear creatures.”
“I plan to visit with Grandmama later this morning and will ask her thoughts on the matter. Will you ladies be able to take charge without me for a few hours?” Nora wanted to gain an idea of how long it might take to learn about Lord Shefford’s supposed deed to this building. She felt reluctant to add any more mouths to their care, even cats, if it meant an obnoxious lord who cared only about his winnings, would soon displace them.
“Aye, Miss Mason. I believe we can come up trumps.” The older woman winked.
While Nora realized her thinking was unkind, she did not relish another meeting with his lordship. Jaded by both her mother’s and her own experiences with Society, she maintained what she called a civil distance from the ton. She loved her grandmother dearly, yet she could not but suspect that dear lady of machinations whereby she might endeavor to introduce Nora into Polite Society.
Her mother had felt the sting of the ton’s dismissal when she married a soldier who was also the son of a well-established merchant. instead of a man of her own rank. When her grandfather’s business failed, Society turned its back completely and the few contracts Grandpapa had thought he could count on were withdrawn, sending him into bankruptcy. By association, Grandpapa’s fall from grace had destroyed her own father’s fortunes. With the barest number of servants, her father had strived to keep a roof over the heads of her two brothers, her sister and herself, being unwilling to ask anything of his in-laws.
As a young girl, Nora had vowed she would not add to her parents’ misery by sharing their misfortune with Grandmama, although she suspected her grandparents had both known. Uncle knew. He had lorded over them with his veiled threats, like the one to sell this building.
Shaking off her musing, Nora finished her ablutions. Not having had a lady’s maid of her own, she had become proficient at getting in and out of her clothing, despite the difficulty her undergarments presented. The seamstress had helped by championing buttons and a dress style designed to open down the front. Deciding to wear her yellow and white striped muslin, with a yellow sash and her sensible half-boots, she quickly dressed.
Securing her braided hair into a low chignon, she dabbed at the edges of the tightly confined locks and pulled a few small curls forward. She thought of Becca’s comments about whipping and, reminding herself of her intention to befriend the child, laid down her brush. If she hurried, she could catch the children before they finished breakfast.
She also felt an overwhelming need to see little Amy and make sure she and Alice were well. Nora could not imagine what went through the children’s minds. Bridging the void left by the loss of parents remained an insurmountable task. She peeped into the room where the children were sitting and eating at long wooden tables with bench seats. Amy and Alice were eating together. Everyone seemed well enough, although she did not see Becca.
“Miss Mason, this note came for you.” Mary’s voice sounded from behind her and pulled her from her thoughts. “I believe it was from that woman who brought little Amy to us.”
“‘Aunt’ Gemma? Did she ask to see Amy?”
“No, ma’am. Quite the opposite. She insisted that I not disturb either you or little Amy. She only wanted her note delivered.” Mary looked down at her clasped hands before adding, “Ma’am, Miss Gemma had a lot of bruising on her face and looked ill.”
A sick feeling clenched Nora’s stomach. She knew of the atrocities that were committed in the East End, where Aunt Gemma lived, and praised her lucky stars that the woman had brought Amy to them as she sat down to read the handwritten note.
Miss Mason,
Please do not let little Amy out of your sight. A man named Mr. Sneed claims she is his, but she ain’t. And he got naught to prove it. Amy’s mother was my best friend and asked me to keep her baby safe. She told me she did not know who the father was. By my thinking, that means Mr. Sneed can’t know, either. I believe with my heart he would raise Amy to steal. That ain’t no life for her. Her mam wanted better. Tell our baby I love her.
Aunt Gemma
Sneed? Nora had never heard the surname before. If Gemma was right, the man meant to train Amy for the streets. Nora vowed never to allow that to happen. Meeting Grandmama would have to wait. Nora needed to ensure no one would harm Amy. She darted down to the hall and called Mrs. Simpkins and Mary.
“Miss Mason, is there something wrong? Was it the note?” Mary was out of breath, hurrying downstairs from the children’s room, where she was no doubt tidying up and helping with the younger children.
“Yes, the note concerns me,” Nora acknowledged.
