Inside, girls were busy sweeping, wiping, and stowing away pots from the evening meal. Martha stood tiptoe on a chair, shoving a crock onto the top shelf of a cupboard.
“Mrs. Kit!” Six-year-old Mary dropped her dustpan and plowed into her, wrapping her arms about her legs while peering up with sparkling blue eyes. “I bin waitin’ all night fer ye to get ’ere. Bella gets to share me room!”
Despite the sorrow thick in her chest, Kit gave the girl a smile. “You may not be so excited when you find out she babbles all hours.”
“Ahh, there ye be. Mary, give ’em some space.” Martha closed the cupboard door, and before she could hop to the floor, Jackson set down Bella’s travel satchel and lent her a hand.
“Thank ye, Mr. Jackson.” She dipped her head at Jackson then fired off a round of instructions to her girls. “’Tis clean enough now, ladies. Off with ye, save fer ye, Harriet, who can bide by the stairs a moment. Jane, see that Mary washes behind her ears. Alice, check on yer brother. Make sure he got little Hazel to bed ’stead o’ lettin’ her horseplay on the sofa till she dropped to pieces. Oh, and Anna, grab Bella’s satchel there and no readin’ till yer eyes are blurry, ye hear?”
“Yes, Mum,” they said in unison, scampering off to do as she bid.
In one sweeping movement, Martha bent and gently tickled Bella’s cheek. “Here now, how’s my dandy girl? All ready to stay with yer Auntie May-may?” Straightening, she faced Kit, lips pinching with concern. “Though I s’pose yer not ready for it, aye?”
Flit! What an understatement. “Is a mother ever prepared to part with her child?” Leaving Bella in Martha’s care during the day was one thing, but all night? And who knew how many nights until Carky was apprehended? Kit’s belly cramped. This was so hard!
Jackson wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “It’s only for a few days, Kit. Bella’s safety is more important than the pain it causes us to leave her.”
Kit leaned into him, squirmy baby and all, drawing from his strength. “I know. It’s just…well.” She peered up at him. “I know she’ll be safer here than at our place, but I’d rather face a baited bear on the loose than not have our Bella with us.”
The agony of agreement flashed in his eyes an instant before he closed them. His big hand rested lightly on Bella’s head as he bowed his own. “God, we leave our little one in Your capable hands and those of Mrs. Jones. Bless this child, Lord. Bless this house. And may our efforts to save a man’s life be swift and successful.” Jackson’s prayer rumbled to a stop.
Kit picked up where he left off. “Aye, God, keep watch over our little lamb.” She pressed a kiss against Bella’s head. “And should anyone try to harm our sweet Bella, may You unleash brimstone, hellfire, rounds from a twelve-pounder Armstrong or maybe a Nordenfelt gun, then—”
“Amen and pass me that child.” Martha pulled Bella from her arms. “I think the good Lord gets the idea, luv.”
“Ba-ba!” Bella nuzzled her face against Martha’s chest then reached back to Kit.
Heart wrenching, Kit laid the rag doll on Bella’s outstretched palm, whereupon the girl immediately stuffed the dolly’s foot into her mouth. Kit pressed the back of her hand to her own lips, stifling a cry as Martha whisked her only daughter over to Harriet, who yet stood patiently at the bottom of the stairs.
Kit took a step towards them, but Jackson held her back with a firm grip to her arm just as the kitchen door flew open.
Charles Baggett trotted in, face flushed, hat askew. “Sorry I’m late. Dickens of a traffic jam over on Wentworth. Cart tipped. Quite the snarl.”
“We’ve only just gotten here ourselves. Oh, Mrs. Jones,” Jackson called across the room, “would you mind calling for Frankie? There’s a matter we need to discuss before we leave you in the good care of Mr. Baggett.”
“Ye heard the man, Harriet. Settle in Bella and send me yer brother.” The moment she handed off Bella, she whirled with her fists on her hips. “What’s the blighter done now?”
Jackson chuckled. “For once, nothing.”
Pulling from Jackson’s hold, Kit craned her neck to watch the last of Harriet’s skirts swishing up the stairs. “Maybe I should tuck Bella in?”
“That will only make it harder, Wife.” Bending, Jackson whispered, his breath warm in her ear, “Focus on the matter at hand. The sooner we solve this problem, the sooner we get back our girl.”
Giving herself a last moment to wallow in misery, she embraced the hollow left behind where her heart once had been.
Then she tossed back her shoulders. Jackson was right. There was much to be done. Inhaling long and deep, she stored away all the tears pushing against her eyes for later.
“’Tis not much, Mr. Baggett, but I’ve set ye up a pallet o’er there behind the curtain.” Martha pointed to a bed linen hung on a line in one corner of the big kitchen. “Set down yer load then join us in the dinin’ room. I’ve laid by a bite o’ cake fer us all.”
“Cake? Oh boy!” Frankie, arm swathed in a cloth bandage, jumped down the last two stairs and dashed past everyone.
A small smile tugged Kit’s lips as Martha collared the lad. How thoughtful of the woman to have prepared a sweet treat for them when she was the one being put out to take on another child. Not to mention having a man underfoot in the kitchen. Then again, judging by the fire in Martha’s cheeks whenever Charles caught her glance, having him around would be no trouble whatsoever.
They settled in the dining room, Martha already cutting slices of pound cake. She passed around the plates, making sure the one with the largest slab landed in front of Charles.
“Hey!” Frankie scowled. “Why did Mr. Baggett get the biggest—”
“Hush yer mouth.” Martha aimed the knife at him. “Mr. Jackson’s to do the talkin’, not ye.”
