Page 28 of His Improper Lady

“Mr. Upton said there was a housekeeper there.”

Brock nodded. “Nan. Yes, she kept us for a couple of weeks and then Bruna came and took us. I’m sorry, but I don’t recall Nan’s last name. I’m not sure I ever knew it.”

“Do you have any idea where Nan lives now? Where she went afterward?”

“No. We went with Bruna and Sid, and I never saw her again.” Brock turned toward his sister. “I did remember one other thing, Desiree. Well, one very small thing, not very helpful, I’m afraid. That other man who was sometimes at the house, your father’s friend? His name popped into my head this morning—they called him Pax or maybe Pack.”

“Pax?” Tom repeated. “Was that a first name or a last?”

“I don’t know.” Brock shrugged. “Sorry. I told you it wasn’t very helpful.”

“Sid told us there was a letter,” Desiree said. “Stella sent a letter saying she wasn’t coming back. Do you remember that?”

Brock’s eyebrows rose. “No. What did it say?”

Desiree repeated what Upton had told them, adding, “Sid couldn’t remember exactly. He and Bruna couldn’t read. Did you know that?”

“No. Although, now that I think about it, it was Gordie who taught us numbers and letters.”

“Gordie?” Tom interjected. “Who’s he?”

“Nobody who’d know anything about this. He was someone in the circus.”

Tom went on. “Did your mother have any other friends who visited? Perhaps a neighbor?”

“Not that I remember. To be blunt, she was a kept woman. I’m not sure that any neighbor would have socialized with her. It was a nice area.”

“What area? Where was it?”

“I’ve no idea. A child doesn’t think about things like that. At least, I didn’t. The houses were well made and attractive, not extravagant, but quite pleasant. Wide streets. Not too far away were grander houses. I remember walking past them on the way to a large park—actually a square. We only went there once in a while. There was a smaller park that was closer, and we went there often. I called it the Pie Park. Because of the way it was shaped—a triangle, like a piece of pie.”

“What about the house where you lived? Do you remember the street? How it looked?’

“I’ve no idea the name of the street. It was one of a row of houses...they were all alike. Stone. We were number five.” Brock smiled faintly, his gaze far away. “There was a gold five above the door, and Mum told me that was how old I was.” He straightened, the memory falling away. “That was when we moved in. I was six by the time we left.”

“What about across the street from you? Were they terraced houses, too?”

“They were different. They were attached, too, but the houses weren’t all the same. Different colors, different materials, different styles. The one right across from our door was brown brick. And one of them up the street had a red door.”

“That’s good. This is pretty specific.”

“If you’re hoping to locate it, I have to remind you that was twenty-eight years ago. I doubt it looks the same.”

“No. But I know an architect. He’s pretty good at things like this.” Tom thought for a moment. What they had was very little to go on, even with Alex’s help. Finally, he said, “Do you remember anything else about the area? Places you went?”

Brock frowned, thinking. “There was a church nearby. And there was an odd intersection, where several streets came together.” He paused. “Oh! And trains. Sometimes we’d walk over and look at the trains that went by. Those were farther away. I suppose there might have been a station somewhere around, but I don’t recall it.”

“Any street names? Or, I don’t know, shops or monuments or anything else memorable?”

“No.”

“Did anyone else work in the house besides the housekeeper? A maid or nanny?”

“There was the midwife when the twins were born. But I never even saw her, let alone knew her name. There was no nanny, but there were maids. I don’t remember the last one’s name. The one before her was Judy? Julie? Something like that, I think. She had red hair and freckles.” Again there was that faint smile, as if at pleasant memories. “I liked her, but she had to leave. There was a big ado. She stole a pair of earrings. Something like that. Maybe it was more. I think that was why Stella put things away in that hiding place.”

“Hiding place?” Tom and Desiree chorused, leaning forward.

“Yes. There were a couple of bricks that could be pulled out next to the fireplace in the parlor. I saw Stella down there one night, putting a necklace in it. I tried to get in it after that, but it was too high to reach. It was up on the left side, higher than the mantel.”