“My hope is to help a great many at sea, to shed light—and hope—in a storm or some such calamity. And return Henri to me.”
Lord, let it be.
CHAPTER
forty-eight
Lucy sat across from Esmée in the Cheverton coach, the liveried coachman and postilion as extravagant as the silver foot warmers at their feet.
“D’ye reckon Alice will take the work, Miss Shaw?” Lucy asked as the coach took a sharp corner. “’Twould be far better than the almshouse. Ever since I got shed of it I feel free as a lark.”
“You’re such a help to me, Lucy. I pray Alice can come to Williamsburg. ’Twould be a better arrangement for her and baby Alden, at least till her husband returns.”
“I suppose a soldier in the backcountry is no better than a jack at sea.”
Esmée raised a brow. “By jack, do you mean Cyprian?”
Lucy’s chuckle was followed by a flush, her cheeks red as June’s roses. “’Tis a terrible tussle to not think of him, Miss Shaw.”
“A terribly delightful tussle.” Esmée smiled as the coach lurched to a stop before the almshouse entrance. The buildings seemed less stark covered in snow, but the French encampment was widening, dense smoke hazing the air from countless fires.
They alighted and were promptly shown to the trustee’s office.Esmée sat down in an unfamiliar Windsor chair, eyes drawn to the new window curtains and other amenities. Henri’s doing? Lucy remained standing by the door.
“What brings you out on such a frigid day, Miss Shaw?” The trustee’s condescending manner toward almshouse residents turned to deference in her presence.
“I’ve come to speak with Alice Reed about a position in Williamsburg with my sister.”
“Ah, Lady Drysdale? A timely arrangement.” He looked to her purse. “’Tis unusual for you to visit empty-handed, Miss Shaw.”
Did he expect a bribe? “Surely your recent windfall from an especially generous patron makes anything I might bring a mere pittance.”
His eyes showed surprise, but he merely cleared his throat and called to an assistant in the corridor. “Summon Alice Reed.”
Alice appeared in minutes, overjoyed to see Lucy. They embraced, and Esmée laid out Eliza’s offer as best she could.
“A wet nurse, Miss Shaw? In Lord and Lady Drysdale’s townhouse?” Wonderment softened her wan face. “How can I say nay?”
“You’ll have bed and board, of course, generous wages, and company. A dozen servants are in Lord and Lady Drysdale’s employ.” Esmée paused. She mustn’t paint too rosy a picture, given Eliza’s moods and whims. “My sister can be temperamental at times, and you’d have the care and feeding of two babies night and day till weaning.”
“I think my Johnny would be pleased with it, till he’s done with his soldiering. And I get to see my dear friend besides.” She looked to Lucy, who wore a wide smile. “Aye, then, and as soon as possible.”
Relieved, Esmée gestured to the door. “’Tis snowing again. Best accompany us right away. Lucy can help collect your belongings and your sweet babe.”
“Oh aye, Miss Grove is minding him till my meeting with ye is o’er.”
“Please give her my regards.” Esmée stood and glanced at the clock. “If we leave soon, we’ll be in time for supper. You can settle in your dormer chamber across from Lucy’s own.”
Lucy was already unpinning the scarletPon Alice’s sleeve that marked her as a ward of the parish. Esmée felt a qualm for all whoremained, but at least they were sheltered and fed, not freezing in some forgotten alley.
In a quarter of an hour they were underway, Lucy and Alice’s excited chatter filling the coach to the brim. Esmée held Alden, now asleep and bundled in a woolen blanket smelling of lanolin. As was her habit upon leaving, Esmée looked back at the almshouse and said a prayer for those who stayed behind.
A lone figure in a worn matchcoat and hat stood by the woodpile, watching them. Jago Wherry. Was he remembering rowing her to the island?
He did not raise a hand in farewell.
CHAPTER
forty-nine
