“Ol’ Archie?” asked the red-head.
The officer shrugged. But when the man called Nigel sighed, the officer added, “For hislordship, here.”
Red-headed Nigel straightened and with a bit more enthusiasm said, “Yes, sir.”
“Within spitting distance of Aldgate pump,” Charlotte offered.
Both policemen stared at her, before Nigel added, “I’ll do my best, my lady.”
She felt a little foolish, especially when Charles didn’t correct him. Obviously the information about the pump wasn’t helpful. Either they had an address or they didn’t.
“How long do you think it will take?” she asked the seated officer.
“Long enough that you and his lordship might want to leave and come back,” the man said. “Nigel will do his best.”
Charles escorted her out, and they took his carriage, with Delia still knitting, to the pump with its crowning lantern.
“Now what do we do?” she asked, as they stood staring at what had been the water supply for a whole neighborhood until a mere three years earlier.
“Life-giving water,” the viscount muttered. “Or death.”
“Indeed.” Not a soul in London hadn’t heard the egregious tale of the contaminated sixteenth-century well beneath the pump. At first, the East Enders had praised the taste of the water until it grew foul, and the high mineral content turned out to be leeched human remains from nearby cemeteries.
Charlotte shuddered as even then, a man was drinking from it, no longer by pumping the wrought iron handle, but using a tin cup hooked to a chain and pressing a brass button installed by the New River Company that had rerouted clean water to the Aldgate landmark. Watching him, she had difficulty swallowing at the memory of the hundreds who’d died from drinking the well water.
With a smile, the man doffed his hat to her and ambled up Fenchurch Street. The next in line, a stocky, ancient woman, filled two earthenware jugs, and Charlotte imagined she’d probably used it when it was pumping well water, and probably for all her life.
“Nothing wrong with it,” the old woman exclaimed, seeing Charlotte eyeing the brass wolf head spigot. The old lady caressed it fondly and shuffled down Leadenhall Street. It purportedly represented the last wolf killed in greater London.
“Perhaps we should go back to Covent Garden,” Charlotte said. “Maybe Edward’s mother will be there again.”
“Without confectionery to sell, unlikely.” Charles was eyeing the surrounding area. “Within spitting distance, the boy said.”
“He did.” She followed his gaze around the intersection. Behind them was a bank, on the other corner was a small grocer, a tobacco shop, and a printer. Above the bank, she could tell were other serious businesses with dark shades drawn down. However, above the shops across the street, the windows looking over the square could contain small flats. They had flowery curtains or ratty sheets, depending upon the occupants financial means.
And then she saw Charles startle. “Isn’t that the woman from Covent Gardens? And Edward with her?”
Charlotte whirled around. At first, she didn’t see where he meant. Then the flash of a blue cape caught her eye on the opposite side of the street coming in their direction. Edward was walking beside the woman, and two younger children were in front of them.
“You have very good eyes for a man who wears glasses,” she told Charles.
“I need them solely for reading. For distance, I have eyes like a hawk’s.”
“Indeed you do,” she agreed, keeping her gaze on the small family. “He hasn’t spotted us yet. What should we do?”
“I suppose we can approach them. I think I can protect you from a mother and her three children.”
The teasing tone made her look at him. “Maybe so, my lord, but I wouldn’t fancy your chances against my own mother if she were protecting me and my sisters.”
His face shadowed. “Not all mothers are like yours, Miss Rare-Foure.”
And then they crossed the road between horses and carriages and other pedestrians. Calmly, they intercepted the four Percys in front of a cozy pub that had clearly been there since the previous century.
“Mrs. Percy,” Charlotte said, “May I have a word with you?” She ignored Edward’s widening eyes and the way his glance darted from her to Charles to his mother. Clearly, he was flummoxed by their appearance and didn’t know whether to stay or run.
And Charlotte saw the moment his mother recalled her as well. She probably wouldn’t have if Charlotte had been alone, but she stood beside the handsome viscount, who was undoubtedly unforgettable. The woman’s face paled.
“You bought sweets off me the other day.”
