Clara blinked back tears. “You won’t be home when I return?”
“Ye ain’t listenin’, girl. Neither of us’ll be comin’ back ‘ere.”
A tear ran down her cheek, and she dashed it away. Her father was abandoning her, albeit for good reason. She would be alone.
“I can take some things now but will need to come back. I couldn’t possibly pack everything in a few minutes.” Clara began to ramble, naming off the items she couldn’t leave behind.
Pa grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “If ye need to come back, don’t come alone. Take what ye must and never look back.” He shook her again. “D’ye understand?”
She nodded, the tears falling freely now. He held close again, kissed the top of her head and pushed her toward her bed. “Gather a few things and get to work. I’ll be countin’ the days till I see ye again. Never forget yer pa loves ye more than life. If I could guarantee yer safety, I’d stay, but ye’ll stand a better chance with me gone.”
Clara stood at the entrance of the kitchen in Hatton Garden, holding a cloth bag with clothes, a brush, comb, mirror, and a few personal items. She would not cry.
“Ah, there you are,” said Mrs. Johnson, bustling into the room. Mary was kneading dough, a pot of porridge on the two-burner stove, the fire blazing below the cast iron lid. “My lord arrived late last night with his sister. They want breakfast at ten, and then I will go over the menu with her ladyship?—”
The housekeeper stepped in front of Clara. “What is wrong?”
Clara burst into tears and shook her head. “My father has to go away. I need a place to stay.”
Mary and Sally were around her in seconds. Mrs. Johnson tsked and took the bag from Clara’s hand and set her down on the bench beside the table. “Get her a cup of tea, Mary.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“There’s space for another bed in our room. Or I could share with Mary,” said Sally, hopping from foot to foot, her eyes wide. “I’m not used to sleepin’ by meself.”
“Aye,” said Mary over her shoulder, “we can share a bed, Mrs. Alberts.”
Clara blinked and wiped her cheeks. “Thank you, all of you. I’m so sorry for… for?—”
“Nonsense. I’ll speak with Mr. Smalley, and we’ll make arrangements this afternoon,” said Mrs. Johnson matter-of-factly. “In the meantime, keep your mind on the cooking and the day will pass quickly. It will be nice to have you here in the evenings with us, won’t it, girls?”
A blonde and dark head bobbed in unison. Clara stared at the tea set before her, saw Mary adding a chunk of sugar. To her surprise, she did feel better after a cup of tea and looking over her menu for the day.
Never forget yer pa loves ye more than life.
Clara heard more affection in that one sentence than many girls ever received from their fathers in a lifetime. He would be safe, and she would see him again. She would take comfort in that. Drawing in a deep breath, she began giving orders. Her stomach settled as she worked, Sally’s humming from the scullery calming her nerves.
CHAPTER 7
Early March, Monday
Hatton Garden
Elijah leaned against the wrought-iron rail, waiting for Miss Alberts to come up. It was after seven, but he was in no hurry. By half past, he was concerned. Was she upset with him? Had something happened or was she late because the comte had arrived the previous night. Noblemen often expected their every whim catered to, so the household might be chaotic for the first few days.
The door opened, and Clara ran up the steps, still putting on her cloak. “You waited. Thank you, Mr. Norton.” She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and steered away from the townhouse. “I must ask you a favor.”
“Anything,” he said with a frown, her worried countenance causing him instant concern.
The words came out in a rush, her fingers gripping his arm as she spoke, her eyes in front of her. She wouldn’t look at him. When they neared Lincoln’s Inn, he stopped and turned her so they faced one another.
“I waited last night until your father came home. I thought he was drunk. The man he was with looked familiar, but now I wonder if…” Could he be one of The Vicar’s men? That would mean Mr. Alberts also was one of The Vicar’s henchmen.
Elijah studied Miss Albert’s green eyes, bright with tears, and decided he would wait before mentioning his suspicions. But the fact that her father thought it necessary to escape the country…
“Wonder what?”
“Who was the man with your father?”
