“Missy!” Anne Taylor shouted gleefully. The little girl, now nearly three years old, broke away from Sally’s side to rush up and throw her arms around Charlotte’s legs.
Charlotte bent to embrace her. “Goodness, I’ve only been gone an hour.” She glanced up at her friend. “Thank you for watching her for me.”
“I was pleased to.”
“How is that new girl getting on?”
“The ginger-haired girl?”
“Yes—Meg.”
“Oh, she has the way of it, she does. Nursin’ her wee one like an old hand. Says you are a fine teacher.”
“Good. I shall visit her tomorrow.”
“And how did you fare shopping?” Sally asked.
“I found some fine new things for a girl who’s growing far too fast.”
“Let me see!” Anne cried.
“You shall, but let’s wait until we get you home, all right?”
“Is Grandfather home?”
“I believe so.”
“Then let us go, do!”
“In a moment ...”
“That’s all right, Miss Charlotte—you go on ahead. Thomas is off duty in a few minutes and we’re to walk home together.”
“How is Thomas?”
Sally smiled, her eyes glowing. “Wonderful, as you well know. Adores working for Dr. Taylor. Adores me.” She sighed. “Never thought I’d have such a man for my husband—or any husband for that matter. And such a fine father he is to Dickie.”
“I am so happy for you, Sally.”
“As I always say, it’s you I have to thank for it.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I only introduced you.”
“Still, I cannot help feeling guilty, Miss Charlotte. Should have been you before me. I cannot help thinking—”
“Go on, Sally. Do not worry about me.”
Anne reached her hands high, wanting to be picked up.
“I am fine. We are fine.” Charlotte held one of Anne’s hands and put her other on top of the girl’s head. “Is that not right, moppet?”
In the dining room of the Taylors’ townhouse, Charlotte reigned over breakfast.
“Now, now, Mr. Taylor, sit down and have your porridge,” Charlotte urged.
“Aw, Miss Charlotte,” John Taylor said, “I haven’t any appetite this morning.”
“Breakfast is important, as you well know, being one of the most renowned surgeons in London... .”
