A glance at Becky dampened her euphoria. The girl, barely more than a child herself, now hugged herself alone. Face blank, eyes haunted.
Compassion tugged at Hannah. “Becky, what will you do now? Where will you go?”
The girl shrugged. “Don’t know.”
For the first time Hannah noticed the dingy canvas sack at the girl’s feet. Likely all her worldly possessions. “Will you try to find a new place?” Hannah asked.
Again, the shrug. “Mrs. Beech gave me no character. Perhaps I’ll work for Mr. Simpkins yet.”
“Becky, no...” Hannah urged. She thought a moment, then asked, “Is your milk still flowing?”
Becky nodded. “I fed Danny, didn’t I? Fed him first so he’d not go hungry.”
Cupping Danny’s bottom with her good hand, Hannah reached out the other, extending from the sling, and awkwardly patted Becky’s arm. “And I am truly grateful.”
What should Hannah do? A part of her wanted to distance herself from this pitiful girl as soon as possible. To be on her way, just her and her son. But the reality was her own milk had dried up. And she could ill afford to buy milk to feed Danny. Let alone feed herself.
She didn’t even know where she was going or how she would support the two of them. How on earth could she support a third person as well?
Becky looked up at her, the anticipation of disappointment dulling her small dark eyes. “And you, Miss Hannah? Where will you go?”
“I don’t know either.”
Becky waited a moment longer, brows high. When Hannah said no more, she deflated, shoulders slumping.
What should she do? Find Fred and ride with him back to Bristol and show up at her father’s door—likely only to be turned away? Or go to one of the same poor houses or workhouses where the other children had gone? She shuddered at the thought of either of those fates.
Hannah took a deep breath. “You may come with me if you like, Becky. I can’t guarantee what we’ll eat or where we’ll sleep, but if you’re sure you won’t be able to find another situation here ...”
“Oh, thank you, Miss Hannah. Thank you!”
The girl’s face lit as though Hannah had offered her something worthwhile. Becky bent and picked up her canvas sack. Hannah hoped she had spare baby linen inside.
They had barely stepped from the alley when Hannah gasped and drew up short. There came Edgar Parrish, Nancy trailing behind.
She froze. What to do now? Turn and run ... with child in arms? Confess all?
“My lady. There you are.” Edgar exhaled in relief.
She stood in place, breathless. Caught. “Edgar. What are you doing here? Why are you two not at the Pump Room?”
“After you left, I ... didn’t feel right about you going off alone. I knew Pa wouldn’t like it. I was afraid I wouldn’t find you. I almost didn’t look down this street.”
She forced a light tone. “Yes, well, you needn’t have done so.”
His gaze shifted to the child in her arms. “Is this your boy?”
“Yes, this is Daniel.”
His expression softened. “A handsome lad.”
“Thank you.”
Edgar looked expectantly at her companion, and then back at her.
Hannah pressed her dry lips together, then said, “And this is Becky Brown. My son’s nurse.”
He nodded. “Ah.”
