Mrs. Beech’s eyes returned to the hatch. “Took my advice, did you?”
Hannah stifled a bitter retort. She could not afford to further alienate this woman. “I took another situation. One that pays better.”
“Obviously.”
“Please, may I see Danny before I go? I may not be able to return for some time.”
“Sorry. I told you before. Pay what you owe, or go without.”
“I just want to see him. With my own eyes. See that he is all right.”
The woman hesitated. Had she a heart after all? “Oh, very well. But just for a moment. Becky! Bring the Rogers boy down.”
Hannah waited for the door to open, but it remained closed. Through the hatch, she glimpsed skirt and apron as someone—Becky, she supposed—came down the stairs, a bundled babe in her arms. Her body ached at the sight. It should be her arms holding him.
“Let her have a look at him. Through there,” the woman ordered.
The slight body turned, repositioned the bundle, and then, there he was. That dear little face, awake and alert. The skin so fair that blue veins shone beneath his eyes, making the irises appear bluer yet. Little pursed lips working, already looking for his next meal. The smooth round cheeks, the fine tufts of hair. Hannah’s heart swelled and her eyes stung. In reply, her breasts surged with pinpricks of life, of milk, though she was all but dry by now. Still, she longed for him, the touch of him, the feel and smell of her little boy, with her whole being.
“Danny, my love,” she cooed through the opening, not caring how foolish she must look to passersby or the cruel matron. “Oh, my dear one. Mamma loves you. Never forget she does.” Her voice cracked. “I shall be back for you soon. Just as soon as I can...”
“That’s enough now, Becky,” Mrs. Beech ordered. “Take the boy away.”
The girl hesitated, then turned.
Tears streamed down Hannah’s face, but she remained, her eyes at the opened hatch, hoping for one last glimpse of him. To tide her over. To feed her soul.
Glinting eyes reappeared instead, blocking her view. “And that’s the last you’ll see of him, until you pay in full.”
With the echoing clack of the metal hatch still ringing in her ears, Hannah had trudged, weeping, to the Bath Abbey courtyard to see Fred Bonner, who stopped there twice a week on his delivery route from Bristol.
She found a bench and sat down to wait. Finally, Fred and his wagon appeared. Reaching the courtyard, he jumped down and tied his horse at his usual spot. She rose and walked toward him.
His face brightened when he saw her. “Hannah!” he called with a boyish grin and bounded toward her. But his grin faded when he neared and saw her tear-streaked face. “What is it, Han?”
“I need to speak with you.” She steeled herself. She was almost as reluctant to ask him for help as she would be to ask her father. Almost.
“That sounds serious.” Fred eyed her valise with a frown.
“It is. I need help.”
“You know I’d do anything for you, Han, if I could. Anything.”
She did know. He had asked her to marry him more than once. If he offered to help her now, she would accept. She explained that Mrs. Beech was refusing to allow her to have Danny. And that fever was spreading through the house.
The tall young man listened, his brown, hound-dog eyes wide in concern.
“Freddie, I need money,” Hannah said in conclusion. “Itshames me to say so, but there it is. If you want to help me ... us ... then that’s what I need. I have never asked you for a farthing, but now I’m asking.”
He winced. “Oh, Han. I want to help you. Both of you. Ihada few pounds put by, but I’ve sunk those into this wagon.”
Tears filling her eyes again, she turned and walked away across the courtyard. Fred followed after her.
“I’ll make more with my own route, see. As soon as I pay back Pa for the horse, all the earnings will be mine free and clear and then I can support you proper.”
“When will that be?”
“Half a year. Give or take. And then we can be married. Say you’ll marry me, Han. You know I love you.”
