“It’s probably very unwise of me to be alone with a man about whom I know so little.” Within the confines, her voice was a low hush as though she wasn’t quite certain she wanted the words to be heard. “In which area of London did you grow up?”
“I didn’t. I grew up in Yorkshire.”
“A country lad. I hadn’t envisioned that for you.”
“What had you envisioned?”
“I’m not really certain. A father who was a success at some business. A solicitor perhaps.”
“A curmudgeon mostly, but he was skilled at investing and managing his income. I’ve benefited from his attention to details.”
“Is he no longer here?”
“No, he passed some years back.”
“Do you miss him?”
“I miss having his counsel.”
“I believe that’s the most you’ve ever shared with me, Mr. Sommersby. I feel considerably safer.”
“I would never take advantage, Miss Trewlove.”
“I should hope not. My brothers would kill you if you did, and your body would never be found.”
He grinned broadly in the encroaching darkness. “Such a tragic end. Perhaps you could write a penny dreadful about it. Although I’d prefer you make me the hero, as the hero never dies.”
“Regretfully that is not always the case. My father was a hero. He died in a war on foreign shores before I was born. But my mum told me all about him.”
“You know who your mother is?”
Her light laughter floated around him. “Ettie Trewlove is my mum.”
“I’m confused. I was under the impression she only took in by-blows.”
“The others, yes, but not me. She gave birth to me.”
Which further explained why her siblings were so protective of her. Not only because of the age difference, but because she was the child of the woman who had raised them. “She must have been remarkably young when she began taking them in.”
“Barely twenty. Her husband had died, and she needed a way to earn some coins. She lacked an education, you see, so her options were limited.”
He wondered if that was part of the reason that she was teaching others to read. His reason for not helping her suddenly seemed petty and selfish, especially as his resolve to avoid being in her presence had lasted only a few hours. He didn’t want to be drawn to her, and yet he was.
She leaned forward slightly. “Ah, here we are.”
The cab came to a stop. Matthew passed up the fare through a small opening in the roof and the doors quickly flipped open. After climbing out, he handed Miss Trewlove down and glanced at the building before them where people were streaming in. “It looks to be a church.”
“A converted one from what I understand. Quite appropriate, don’t you think, as I’m certain it’s filled with sinners.”
He’d wager no truer statement had ever been spoken. After he paid their admittance fee at the door, they climbed the stairs to a balcony and made their way to the benches at the front, which provided a clear view of the stage and the rows of pews lined up before it. A good deal more pandemonium was visible in the front. Young lads, many appearing to be in need of a bath, were jumping around, running hither and yon. Women were jostling bawling babes, no doubt trying to soothe them into silence. Some men were shouting and shoving on each other, while a few were sitting back puffing on their pipes.
She looked over at him and smiled. “So much mayhem. It’s marvelous, isn’t it?”
He thought of dinners, plays on Drury Lane, recitals, and garden parties he’d attended. Much more civilized, much less chaotic. “I think I would tire of it night after night.”
She nodded. “I agree. It should be saved for special occasions. Although for some of these people, I suspect it offers an escape, especially for those who can’t escape into books.”
“Are you always thinking about books?”
