Cheapside, London
April 1821
Benjamin Cooper hurried along the busy street, hoping his landlady still had a meal warming on the stove. It had been a long day, ending with a new and demanding client. He enjoyed his work as a solicitor, but some people could stretch a man’s patience. Ahead of him, an elderly woman stumbled, her bag of produce tumbling onto the ground.
Ben and the oncoming Charley, or night watchman, both stopped to help her collect the vegetables. After a profuse and heartfelt thank-you, the woman continued on her way.
“Good evening, Mr. Felton,” said Ben. “Hope you have a quiet night.”
“I’ll second that,” said the jovial man, scratching his jaw. His cheeks were red from the exertion of chasing rolling potatoes, and his pale-brown eyes shone from the light of the gas lamp he’d just lit. “How goes it, Mr. Cooper?”
“Business is good,” said Ben. “And you?” Sam had introduced him to Mr. Felton when he’d taken Sam’s rooms. He was a friendly fellow, and Ben liked him.
“Can’t complain,” he said. “My Kitty’s started a new line of work, the opposite of my hours. So I make sure she’s up when I go home, and I get a hot breakfast afore she leaves.”
“Wasn’t she a day maid?” asked Ben, trying to remember the man’s family. Kitty must be his wife. Sam would know. He’d lived in the neighborhood much longer than Ben had at this point.
Felton nodded. “She’s a knocker-up now. Says it will be a much-needed position in the future. Kitty’s always been an early riser, so I think it will work out fine. Already has a half-dozen customers to wake up each morning.”
Ben paused, an idea forming. “How much does she charge? I’m not an early riser, and someone ensuring I’m awake for a morning appointment would be a great boon.”
“Sixpence for the week, an extra thrupence if you want her to stay until ye come to the window, and a shilling if you want her on Sunday too.” He elbowed Ben in the side with a grin. “Then you get to start the day with a lovely lass smilin’ at you.”
“I certainly can’t argue with that. Could you have her put me on the schedule?” Ben asked, amazed that a man of Felton’s age still considered his wife a beauty. But then, Paddy adored Maggie, and they were in their sixth decade. Ben patted his sides to see if he had any coins on him. Today was Saturday, so he wouldn’t need her until Monday. “I’ll pay you now, and she can start at the beginning of next week?”
“That would be fine,” said Felton. “If she can’t accommodate you for some reason, I’ll let you know tomorrow night when I’m on duty.”
Sunday
Gracechurch Street
“That was a grand meal, Maggie, my luv,” said Paddy, rubbing his belly. “No one makes a shepherd’s pie like you.” His faded red hair had more silver than the older man cared to admit. Not that Paddy was a vain man, but he hated that time would not stand still for him, his age slowly creeping upon his body.
Ben had seen him wince more than once as he rose from a low chair or dismounted a horse after a long ride. A smile curved Ben’s mouth, remembering a young pickpocket who’d assumed Paddy O’Brien was an easy target. The youth had been kicking the air when the retired Bow Street Runner had jerked him by the collar.
“I believe you told me the same thing last month when I made one,” said Nora, her green eyes flashing with mischief. She tossed a long red curl over her shoulder and pretended to pout. “Your words are like a spoonful of molasses, sweet but not quite maple syrup.”
The family laughed while Paddy attempted his best martyred look.
“I ran into the neighborhood night watchman the other day,” said Ben after the laughter died down. “It seems Mrs. Felton has begun her own business as a knocker-up.”
“Hmm, I’ve heard it’s getting popular with the increased industrialization in the cities,” said Angus Marshall, the “family” barrister who prosecuted any cases the Peelers brought before the court. He was a brother of sorts, though not raised in the household as the original seven misfits Paddy and Maggie had collected over the years. “More people are flocking to Town for work, with no sunrise or livestock to wake them.”
“My landlady used to wake me,” explained Benjamin. “She’s getting more and more feebleminded and often forgets. Since the girl will be knocking—or tossing something—at my window, Mrs. Blasey will never know she’s forgotten.”
“Let me know how that goes. I have a colleague who is always late for an early session,” said Angus. He was a tall, handsome man with black hair and silver eyes. He was also an earl’s by-blow. That unexpected news had sent him into a downward spiral until Paddy had found him and pulled him, literally, from the gutter. “By the way, are you interested in a new client, Ben?”
“Always,” he answered, scooping the last bite of beef and thick gravy from his plate. “I’m saving for a townhouse, then I’ll begin looking for a wife.”
Ben closed his eyes at the sudden cacophony of noise. Why had he said that out loud? He held his hands up. “Calm down, calm down. These are my future goals, far in the future goals. It will take years to get the funds for the property.”
“I believe Paddy and I have been a good example to these children,” said Maggie. Her auburn curls, streaked with gray, bounced as she nodded. “Out of the original seven, two are already married and one soon to be shackled.”
Everyone turned to look at Eli, whose blue eyes now avoided his family’s direct gaze. He was the youngest boy with dark-blond hair and a gentler temperament than his siblings. He had met a lovely young woman named Ruby, a cook in Hatton Garden, and they planned to marry next month. Eli’s grandmother patted his hand.
“You’re embarrassing my boy,” Agatha Norton said with a teasing grin. “His face is almost as red as his fiancée’s hair, but I agree. The fact another is contemplating the institution says ye’ve done something right in raisin’ this brood.”
“Well, let’s retire to the parlor, and Nora can take over being the center of attention,” said Harry, offering his hand to his wife, Lady Walters. The pair was striking with his lean, dark looks and her pale, fragile stature. “She craves it from what I understand.”
