“Thank you, dear. August, do you know Peter and Hannah?” she asked over June’s howls. “I think Hannah is your age. We’ve gone over our letters tonight—all the way to ‘p,’ and I had begun a story. See if June—yes, there you go.” August had carefully scooped up a bit of food from the spoon and poked it into June’s crying mouth. The wailing stopped as she chewed.
Genevieve smiled and reached for the clean cloth beside the washbasin. She wrung it out and carefully cleaned the cut before wiping away the blood. “It must’ve been frightening to see your sister get hurt. But see, it’s only a little cut. Head wounds tend to bleed prodigiously because there is a lot of blood in the scalp.”
“Pro… Prodid…” August repeated in a whispered.
“Prodigious—‘huge,’ ‘colossal,’ ‘immense.’ ‘Quite a lot,’” Genevieve defined. “There. Peter, do you know where your mother would keep bandages?”
Peter shook his head.
“Well, no matter.” Genevieve dug a handkerchief from her pocket and folded it into a bandage before tying it around June’s head. “There. Better, dear?”
June just opened her mouth for another spoonful.
“August, would you like to hear the rest of this story?”
He cast a glance at the door.
“I don’t know when your mother plans to return, but I will listen for her,” Genevieve promised. “I don’t want her to worry. Why don’t you finish up that pot?” She shifted June to rest against her shoulder and patted her. “Peter, where was I in the story?”
“They was fighting with the beast,” he said immediately.
“Ah, yes. So, Grendel, a great monster who had long harrowed the Hall of Heorot, was sought by Beowulf, a great hero of the Geats. Beowulf did battle with Grendel…”
When Beowulf had vanquished both Grendel and Grendel’s mother and gained great renown and Hannah and June had fallen asleep, Genevieve heard footfalls on the stair. But it was Sally who bustled into the small room. “Brr, wind’s picking up,” she said, unwinding her shawls. She held her hands out to the fire. “Were you good for Miss Dryden, my duck?” she asked Peter, who was yawning.
“Yes, Mama.”
She pressed a kiss to his head and straightened to goggle at June and August. “Well, bless her! She finally brought the tykes around?”
“No, August brought his sister over. She had a bit of an accident, but all is well now.” She decided not to mention Fletcher.
Sally clucked over the both of them. “They can stay here until their mum gets home. I’ll watch them. You’d best be going before this wind turns to a storm, Miss Dryden.”
Genevieve was impervious to wind and storms, but Sally didn’t know that, and it was kind of her to think of it. She transferred the sleepy weight of June to Sally and settled her cloak around her shoulders. “August, tell your mother that I said you are both welcome anytime,” Genevieve told the boy, patting him on the shoulder. He was too young to take care of a baby on his own, but needs must. “I am very glad I could help. Don’t be afraid to knock on Sally’s door if you need it.”
“Thank you, Miss Dryden,” he said shyly.
“You’re very welcome, dear.” She re-tied her bonnet ribbons. “Take care, Sally.”
When she stepped out onto the street, Genevieve looked both ways for a small waif with a mulish expression on his face, but Fletcher did not appear. Sometimes he didn’t, but she felt foolishly disappointed. Perhaps whatever he had had to do had taken longer than he’d expected. She hoped wherever he was, he was safe and warm on this cold night. A deceptive chill hung in the air that boded either rain or snow if temperatures dropped low enough.
A strong gust of wind buffeted her, and one of her frayed ribbons snapped. Her unsecured bonnet flew off her head.
Genevieve lunged after it, but the wind carried it past her reach.
Then a hand snatched it out of the air.
“Beowulf, Miss Dryden?”
Kendrick stepped from the dark shadow of the house, looking for all the world like a human laborer walking home from the pub—if a laborer walked with a sword slung over his shoulder, that was. “I believe you’ve lost this.”
Genevieve swept her short hair out of her face, gaping at him.
His boot heels clicked against the cobblestones as he approached, and she knew it was only because he allowed it. This man could be silent as the grave when he wanted. Genevieve pressed her lips together.Pun intended.
Large hands gently brushed back the hair the wind had disarranged and settled the bonnet on her head. She clapped a hand on it to keep it in place.
Kendrick tilted his head to the side, staring down at her. “Conversations do require a second participant, in my experience, Miss Dryden.”
