A Simple Lady (19 page)

She was to doubt her conclusion within seconds. As soon as Billy saw that he had regained Elizabeth’s attention, he began pointing to his arms and legs and making rather frantic hand motions such as those he used to communicate with Johnny.

Elizabeth’s heart sank as she stared uncomprehendingly at Billy’s efforts to communicate with her but she tried to remain composed. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me, Billy,” she said. “However, if you will come down and allow me to look at your arms and legs, perhaps I can see for myself what’s wrong.”

Her calmly phrased statement had an unfortunate effect on Billy. Shaking his head violently from side to side, he clambered to his feet, drawing gasps of horror from the kitchen staff as he tottered a bit before pressing himself against the wall and renewing his efforts to communicate with Elizabeth through now-frenzied hand motions.

“It’s no use, Billy,” Elizabeth informed the little boy, silently cursing her inability to understand him. “I can’t decode your movements.” Then, on a sudden hopeful thought, “Shall I fetch Johnny for you?”

Billy nodded his head so vigorously that Elizabeth feared he was going to topple from his perch.

“Very well,” she said quickly. “But you must sit down first. Carefully, please.”

Billy obediently lowered himself to the top of the cupboard, smiling at Elizabeth with trusting confidence written clearly in his eyes.

Elizabeth wished she shared Billy’s confidence in her abilities. After having promised to fetch Johnny, she now realized she had no idea where the lad lived.

“Does anyone know where I can find Johnny?” she asked, looking around at her kitchen staff with mingled hope and anxiety.

“I may know, milady,” spoke up the footman who had whacked Alice with the ladder. “I heard him say once that he lived just off Brushfield Street near Spitalfields Market.”

“Thank you, James,” Elizabeth responded with a smile she hoped would conceal her trepidation. Although she knew nothing about the area James had mentioned, she feared “just off Brushfield Street” could cover a great deal of territory. Still, she had to try. “Will you order the carriage brought around for me, Larkman?” she asked.

The butler stared at her a second before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, my lady, but the dowager marchioness took the coach this morning.”

“There must be another carriage I can use.”

Again Larkman shook his head. “It has been so many years since a lady resided in this house, his lordship has kept only sporting vehicles here. Besides, my lady, you really ought not to be going to Spitalfields. I’ve heard that the area has grown quite rowdy in recent years.”

“But I have no choice, Larkman,” Elizabeth said, raising her chin and glaring down her nose at him. She knew enough of faithful servants to realize she must appear firm in her resolve or Larkman would badger her until she changed her plans. “I promised Billy I would try to find his friend, and I intend to keep my word. Please be kind enough to hire a hackney for me.”

Larkman gulped and lowered his gaze to the floor. “It would be worth my job should his lordship find out I helped you go to Spitalfields, my lady.”

Elizabeth blew out her breath in an exasperated sigh. “Very well. I daresay I can find a hackney by myself.” Turning on her heel, she was halfway down the hall before James caught up with her.

“Wait up, please, your ladyship.”

Elizabeth stopped and turned to the footman. “Yes, James?” she said, attempting to imbue her tone with both regality and determination. She had no desire for the servants to guess just how frightened she really was.

“I’m going with you, milady,” James said. “You may need a protector in Spitalfields.”

Glancing at the young man’s broad shoulders and bulging forearms, Elizabeth stifled a sigh of relief. “Very well, James,” she said, nodding her head solemnly. “You may accompany me. I’ll fetch my bonnet and reticule while you look for a hackney.”

* * *

The Marquess of Kenrick returned to his town house a little earlier than usual that morning. He had been in the habit of staying away as much as possible since returning from Oak Groves and finding that each time his wife glanced in his direction, her gaze reflected either anger or disgust. He feared he could understand both, considering the way he’d snapped at her the day she told him about rescuing Billy. What he couldn’t understand was his devastating sense of loss each time he realized that Elizabeth was rather pointedly avoiding him. He would never have guessed he would miss her company so much.

He hoped that by returning early today, he’d surprise Elizabeth in the breakfast parlor. Perhaps, if he was on his best behavior, he might earn one of her smiles he’d grown to value so much prior to their estrangement. Elizabeth never smiled at him now.

Pulling his grays to a halt in front of the town house, he glanced toward the front door and then stopped to stare in disbelief. Rarely had he seen his stately butler less than totally collected. Now Larkman, who had been hovering on the front stoop, dashed out into the street and was soon supporting his trembling frame by leaning against the near horse’s flank. His words when he spoke nearly tumbled over one another.

“I’m terribly sorry, my lord, but the dowager had already left for the orphans’ school, and I could not persuade her ladyship not to go to Spitalfields. After she left, I could think of nothing else to do, so I sent for a doctor. He’s up on a stepladder in the kitchen now and seems to be having some success, but—”

“Good Lord, man,” Kenrick interrupted brusquely. “Stop babbling. It sounded as though you said there’s a doctor on a ladder in the kitchen. Have you been drinking?”

Larkman began to wring his hands. “I apologize for my behavior, my lord, but I’ve been extremely worried about her ladyship, not to mention Billy, who may not have gone insane after all.”

“Well, if he has not, remind me to proffer my congratulations to the lad,” Kenrick commented dryly. “He appears to be the only person in my household to have retained his lucidity. In fact, I am feeling a bit less than rational myself at the moment. Could we step into the entrance hall to finish this conversation, Larkman? You are attracting a crowd.”

Larkman glanced about and realized that he had, indeed, drawn the attention of more than a few pedestrians who had interrupted their morning errands to observe with widened eyes the distraught demeanor of one of the most dignified of a dignified breed. Reddening to the roots of his snow white hair, Larkman turned and plunged into the house, leaving a bemused marquess to follow in his footsteps.

Ten minutes later Kenrick was back in his curricle headed toward Spitalfields. There was really nothing to worry about, he kept assuring himself. Fortunately Larkman had been level-headed enough to suggest that James accompany Elizabeth. James was a hefty young man. He would take care of her. Unless he was overpowered by one of the gangs of thieves that frequently roamed the back streets near the market.

Although there were worse sections of the city into which Elizabeth could have ventured, Kenrick was aware that her safety was far from guaranteed in Spitalfields. Perhaps, if she was lucky, her worst encounter would be with a pickpocket. Other, less easily remedied disasters, Kenrick tried to push from his mind.

Traffic picked up as he neared the Spitalfields Market. Kenrick was forced to slow his team, but his mind raced ahead, concocting various scenarios in which Elizabeth was being assaulted by any of the dangerous breeds who inhabited those dark and filthy alleyways.

Imagining Elizabeth being exposed to the offal of the earth—those predators who inhabited the rookeries of Spitalfields because it lay close enough to the city to allow for easy pickings—made him shudder. Consciously forcing his anxieties to the back of his mind, he tried to formulate a plan of action.

First he would go to the marketplace, he decided, because that was the most logical place for Elizabeth to have begun her search. Less menacing than the side streets, the market would also offer her more opportunities to find people who might be willing to answer a simple question. Of course, if she
had
gone into the marketplace, Kenrick realized that his chances of locating her there were remote. The stalls and sheds of vegetable, fruit, and meat vendors sprawled across three acres of land.

Halting his team at the edge of the market, Kenrick stood in his curricle, his gaze sweeping the crowds. Seconds later when he spied Elizabeth standing on the fringes of the market, safe and calmly talking to a vegetable vendor, his sudden surge of relief weakened his knees, forcing him to drop quickly into his seat. Strength returned instantly as rage seethed through his veins. How dare his wife cause him so much anguish and then turn up quite safe, casually chatting with some strange woman? How dare she appear so calm, so unconcerned, when she had driven him half mad with worry?

He jumped from the curricle and looked around for someone to mind his horses. Within seconds a young lad dashed up, an eager expression on his face. Kenrick tossed the boy a coin. “Hold them,” he said tersely. “I’ll be back momentarily.” With clenched teeth and lowered brows, he began pushing his way through the crowds to retrieve his wife.

* * *

Fifteen minutes earlier when Elizabeth had allowed James to hand her down from the hackney, she’d stood gaping at the massive market and feeling like a complete fool. She didn’t doubt that others would share that opinion of her mental capacities when she began attempting to find one nondescript boy amid such a sea of humanity, especially when she didn’t even know the child’s last name. Still, she couldn’t give up without trying, for she couldn’t face Billy if she merely turned and fled back to the safety of Kenrick House.

After asking the hackney driver to wait, Elizabeth took a deep breath and, with James at her side, plunged into a clamorous, bustling world that seemed as far removed from the England she knew as any exotic place she had ever read about. That she was as foreign to these people as they were to her was soon evidenced by their covert glances and undisguised stares. Obviously visits to Spitalfields Market by ladies of quality accompanied by a footman were not everyday occurrences here.

The first vendor Elizabeth chose to approach was a portly woman with a round face and suspicious eyes. She listened silently and warily to Elizabeth’s inquiries about a lad named Johnny. When Elizabeth had finished with her questions, the woman hacked loudly, spat onto the ground a scant two inches from the hem of Elizabeth’s gown, and turned away.

“Hey, now,” James began, starting to step forward, but Elizabeth quickly grasped his arm and pulled him back. The last thing she needed was an altercation in which she and James were outnumbered by hundreds of people.

Feeling more apprehensive by the minute, she pulled a deep breath into her lungs and began looking around for someone else to approach. She no longer questioned the advisability of her having undertaken this quest—it had been sheer lunacy—but she wouldn’t allow herself to leave without trying one more time.

A small sigh of relief escaped her lips when she saw that one of the vendors, a small woman of indeterminate years, was smiling at her from a nearby stall. Encouraged, Elizabeth motioned to James to follow and then quickly made her way toward the amiable-appearing female.

“Pay no heed to Edith, milady,” the woman said. “Her nature’s akin to that of a ill-tempered donkey. Can I be of help to ye?”

“Thank you, ma’am—” Elizabeth began.

“Mrs. Clendor’s the name. Was ye lookin’ fer some fresh vegetables?”

“Merely some information, Mrs. Clendor, but I’ll be pleased to pay you for your time.” Elizabeth started to open her reticule but the woman put out a hand to stop her.

“No need fer that. Just remember the name Clendor should ye send yer cook to Spitalfields Market to buy vegetables or fruit. What was it ye needed to know?”

Smiling with relief, Elizabeth continued. “I’m looking for a lad named Johnny who lives near here. He is about seven years old and—” Elizabeth’s sentence ended with a frightened gasp when someone behind her reached to clutch her upper arm in an ungentle grip.

Whirling about, even as she wondered why James was not protecting her, Elizabeth nearly fainted with relief when she looked up into the familiar face of her husband. Her relief was short-lived. Although Kenrick was smiling pleasantly, only a fool would have failed to recognize that he was enraged. Elizabeth quickly dropped her gaze from his narrowed eyes, choosing instead to concentrate on the muscle twitching near the corner of his mouth.

“Hello, my dear,” the marquess said, his grip upon Elizabeth’s arm tightening when she tried to pull away.

“I was l-l-looking for J-J-Johnny, because—” she began.

“Yes, I know, but I believe we can safely forego Johnny’s charming company this morning. Billy is now doing very well without him.”

“He is?” Elizabeth asked, forgetting in her surprise the danger involved in looking into her husband’s eyes. What she saw there was as puzzling as it was unnerving. Why was he so furious with her?

Kenrick did not bother to respond to her question. He was pressing a coin into Mrs. Clendor’s hand and graciously thanking the lady for her time. He turned next to James. “I shall escort my wife home in the curricle, James. You return in the hackney and pay the driver off when you reach Kenrick House.” He dropped several coins into James’s hand. “This should be sufficient for the fare. The remainder expresses my appreciation for your care of Lady Kenrick.”

James’s eyes widened. “Thank you, my lord.”

Kenrick nodded curtly and then turned, propelling Elizabeth along beside him as he made his way back to the curricle.

* * *

They rode in silence until the bustling environs of Spitalfields had been left behind and the traffic had thinned enough to enable Kenrick to lessen his concentration on his driving. His tone when he finally addressed Elizabeth was a frigid blend of disgust and condescension.

“If you are still trying, madam, to persuade me that your wits are addled, you are doing a commendable job.”