George felt her stomach lurch, and for one horrifying second thought she was about to cast her account.
‘Did they say why?’ Anthony’s calm response slowed the churning slightly. The Reverend shook his head.
‘The first one who turned up looked as though he hadn’t washed in the last decade. Bit of a puff guts with few teeth and even less hair. Didn’t mention anything about his quarry being a girl.’ Reverend Shackleford turned to George who had gone a sickly pale colour. ‘Does that ring a bell?’ he asked shortly.
George swallowed convulsively and unconsciously turned to Anthony. ‘It’s Atkins,’ she breathed, terror lacing her voice.
Without thinking, Anthony reached out and touched her shoulder reassuringly. ‘You said he was the first one. Who was the other?’
The Reverend shook his head and shrugged. ‘No idea but I didn’t like the look of him either. Dressed like a gentleman with the manners to go with it. But he had an odd kick to his gallop.’ The clergyman paused to think. ‘He stated from the outset he was looking for a girl. I didn’t immediately recognise the fact that both men were looking for the same person. Until he said the chit he was looking for might be dressed as a lad.’
The Reverend stopped to take a sip of his tea before looking over at George. ‘The fellow said you’d stolen a family heirloom,’ he declared gruffly.
Georgiana shook her head, fighting back tears. ‘Whoever ‘e is, e’s pitchin’ the gammon,’ she whispered. Then she looked over at Anthony before adding, ‘I’d bet a shillin’ the first cove wos me foster father, though why ‘e’s wastin’ time lookin’ fer the likes o’ me I ain’t got no idea.’
‘So you have no inkling who the gentleman might be and why he would be looking for you?’ quizzed Grace.
‘I ain’t stolen nuffin’ from no gentry cove,’ George reaffirmed. ‘Why the ‘ell ‘e’s lookin’ fer me…’ She spread her hands in a gesture of bafflement.
‘I think it would help if you told my family what you told me,’ Anthony suggested. ‘I promise you it won’t go further than this room.’
‘I don’t think we can promise any such thing,’ Grace interrupted. ‘If George is in some kind of trouble, burying our heads in the sand will help nothing.’
George looked around the table. For some reason, the Grimms were looking for her, and not only them but some nob. Her gut told her she was in trouble – though why she couldn’t even begin to fathom. The four people sitting in this kitchen hadn’t judged her and had simply accepted her word that she hadn’t filched some toff’s family heirloom. Taking a deep breath, she told them everything.
Chapter Eleven
‘Can you remember how old you were when you came to live with the Atkins'?’ The sympathy in Grace’s voice caused Georgiana to swallow several times before she could croak out an answer.
‘I reckon I couldn’t ‘ave bin more ‘an two or three,’ she managed hoarsely at length. ‘But then I don’ rightly know ‘ow old I am now.’
Grace glanced at the two men present before asking quietly, ‘How long have you had your menses?’ George’s face coloured, but she answered without hesitation.
‘More ‘an six years.’
‘Then I would suggest you’re at least seventeen, possibly eighteen,’ the Duchess guessed.
‘The same age as me,’ Jennifer declared with a warm smile. Georgiana found herself smiling hesitantly back.
‘Can you remember anything from before that time?’ Anthony asked. George began to shake her head, then creased her brow.
‘Only flashes,’ she muttered at length. ‘I remember someone cryin’. Cryin’ so ‘ard like their ‘eart wos broke.’ She narrowed her eyes, lost in thought, then finally shook her head and shrugged. ‘That’s all.’
‘Was it a woman?’ Jennifer asked, intrigued. George screwed her face up, trying to remember.
‘I dunno,’ she admitted after a few minutes. ‘I mean, it’s more likely it were a woman but…’ She trailed off.
‘If someone’s been paying Henry and Martha Atkins to look after you,’ Reverend Shackleford declared, ‘then that tells me someone wants to keep you out of the way. Likely you were born on the wrong side of the blanket.’
‘I’ve thought o’ that,’ George nodded. ‘They never spoke of it, ‘cept once.’ She paused to gather her thoughts. ‘I spilled some milk, and Martha was in an ‘igh old dudgeon. Screamin’ in me face she was. Said I wasn’t worth the pittance they got for me. Then she said,bloodyUxleys.’ She looked round at the silent table. ‘I reckon that might be me real name. Georgiana Uxley.’
‘Do you know of a well-to-do family with that name?’ Anthony asked his sister. Grace shook her head.
‘That doesn’t really mean an awful lot. Felicity would be much more likely to be able to place them.’
‘But you’re not likely to see her until the end of the month,’ Jennifer grumbled, ‘Surely we can’t afford to wait that long.’
‘But then, what’s the chance of anybody tracing her here?’ the Reverend declared. ‘Little Bovey’s not exactly well known, even to those living in Devonshire.’
