Lady Lightfingers (24 page)

‘If he can't see it for himself he must be blind, Ma.'

She snapped a serving cloth at him. ‘Don't you give me none of your blessed cheek now, else I'll put you over my knee.'

Johnny flipped her a grin. ‘It's you who needs putting over someone's knee. I'll have a word with Busby about it.' He sauntered off, hands in pockets and whistling.

Aggie's smile encompassed them both. ‘Busby will be with his charcoal burner. He'll be home before dark for his dinner. You look like a proper young lady now, Miss Celia.'

Which reminded Celia of her manners. ‘May I introduce you to Reverend Thomas Hambert? Reverend, this is Mrs Aggie Busby.'

‘Ah, yes, Celia has spoken often about you.' Thomas bowed over her hand. ‘I understand you were kind to Celia and Lottie in their time of need.'

‘Well I never,' Aggie said again, turning pink. ‘I never expected no thanks for doing the decent thing for folks, that I didn't.'

‘No doubt the Lord will reward you.'

‘As for that, I reckon he already has by bringing young Johnny to our doorstep.'

Celia kissed her on the cheek. ‘I've brought you a gift, and she handed Aggie the soft creamy shawl she was carrying. It was made from the softest wool by a village woman, who spun her wool from her own sheep to fashion shawls from. It hadn't been very expensive. ‘This is for you, and there's some best pipe tobacco for Busby.'

Aggie placed the shawl around her shoulders and rubbed her cheek against it. ‘That's beautiful and soft. Thank you, my love, that's right kind of you.'

A bed was found for the coachman, who joined them for the evening, for it would never have occurred to the Busbys to treat William any other than an equal.

They spent a pleasant evening together, with Busby peering into the fire puffing on his pipe and making the occasional comment, and Aggie bustling around, making sure they were all comfortable.

The men talked about what men talk about – horses, charcoal, politics, war. Aggie was impressed when Thomas told her he'd seen the Queen in person.

‘Is she grand?'

‘Very grand. She was riding in her carriage with Prince Albert by her side, surrounded by soldiers in uniform.'

‘A good breeder is Victoria, she does her duty for England,' Busby commented, nodding in agreement with his own words.

Celia and Aggie looked at one another and giggled.

Early the next morning, after eating a hearty breakfast, they were ready for off. It was a crisp bright morning. The horses' breath steamed from their nostrils and they stamped their feet and gave shrill whinnies, eager to be off.

Celia thanked the Busbys for their hospitality and gave them a hug, for they wouldn't take a penny piece from Thomas.

‘I was glad to have the company of a woman for once,' Aggie said, ‘and this is a bad time of year for passing traffic. Were it summer you'd have had to sleep in the stable with the horses.'

‘If it was good enough for our Lord, then I'm sure it would have sufficed for us poor sinners,' Thomas murmured, his eyes twinkling, because he and Celia often had lively discussions on the subject of what the Lord was about.

Unexpectedly, it was Busby who offered Thomas the challenge. ‘I never heard no mention of horses at the birth of Jesus, just camels and a sheep or two . . . though there might have been a donkey, now I come to think on it,' Busby said.

Thomas shook Busby's hand. ‘I'm sure you're right, Mr Busby.'

‘Thanks for coming, Celia,' Johnny said with a smile, and he was so self-assured that she laughed.

‘I don't know why I was worried about you.'

‘Were you worried about me, or just curious? Besides, you wouldn't have known what to do with me once you got to that village of yours. Your aunt wouldn't have wanted to house and feed a lolloping great lad like me, as well as the two of you.'

‘You look happy here.'

‘I
am
happy. The Busbys treat me well, like I was their own lad, and I'm grateful for it. They've had me at school for the past two years, and I've learned to keep the books for Ma. I can read a real treat, too, though not as good as you. Busby likes me to read to him every evening. They were pleased to get your letter, and so was I.'

‘Good, because I've got this for you,' she said, placing a leather-bound copy of
Famous Tales from the London Slums
in his hands. Give them to someone special, Thomas had said, and the other one had gone to her aunt. ‘Perhaps you'd read this to Busby sometimes.'

Johnny gazed at the name on the spine, then smiled. ‘You were always one to spout a bit of poetry and make up tales. I thought you intended to go on the stage.'

‘I've changed my mind. We've signed the book for you.'

Opening it he read slowly, ‘
To Johnny Archer. Wherever the wind blows, may you always land on your feet. Best wishes. C.J. Laws & Thomas Hambert.'

Although he'd stated he wasn't a hugging man, Johnny hugged her anyway, a quick, brief squeeze. ‘I'll read it to him. Goodbye, Celia . . . Reverend Hambert it was a pleasure to meet you. William, call in on your way back and you can have a bowl of ma's stew to warm you on your way.'

‘Keep in touch,' she said, her voice beginning to crack, and Johnny helped her into the carriage and she took her seat next to Thomas. ‘Now don't you start bawling,' he said.

‘And a letter now and again would be appreciated,' she flung at him.

‘I reckon it would, at that. Can't say I'm much into letter writing though.'

There were tears in Celia's eyes as Johnny stepped back. ‘I have the feeling that this is the last time I'll see him. Time has almost made us strangers, and I might never come this way again.'

Thomas placed his hand over hers as the carriage began to move, saying gently, ‘You're right. Do you remember me telling you that if you and your mother had ignored Lottie's cries she would have perished?'

She nodded.

‘Where would Johnny be now if you'd left him behind in London? You have a compassionate nature, Celia. Your selfless act set him on a different course than the one he was already on. He's found his home, and it was one you led him to.'

‘And what of
my
home?'

He didn't mistake the physical for the spiritual in her. ‘Your heart will tell you when it's found a place to reside.'

‘And I'll have you to thank for that.' She gave a light laugh, teasing him. ‘I do believe you were fishing for a compliment, Reverend Hambert.'

His eyes reflected his smile and he sighed. ‘Ah, the vanity of man . . . I do believe I was.'

The house in Bedford Square was quiet when they arrived. Celia settled herself in the bedroom the Reverend had offered for her use, and she placed the satchel containing the one hundred pounds under her mattress.

Mrs Packer had kept the house clean, but it had an air of waiting about it. She had not been expecting him, for there was no fresh food in the larder, and the potatoes had grown eyes and shoots while waiting to be eaten. There were some preserved fruits and conserves though, and some oatmeal.

‘I hate coming home to an empty house,' he said. ‘It's always too quiet, and that makes me feel lonely. I keep expecting Frederick to come out from under the chair.'

‘Then you should take your sister up on her offer. James will be moving out when he and Harriet wed, I expect.' Though she had not discussed with her aunt whether James would move into Chaffinch House, and if he did, where would she and Lottie go? ‘Mrs Kent will be lonely too, then. If you lived with her you'd see more of Patricia and her children, as well as James. I'd visit you, too, just to remind you of your folly in taking an interest in me.'

She laughed when he gave a heartfelt groan. ‘You know you don't mean that, Thomas Hambert.'

‘No . . . I certainly do not, because I enjoy your company. I've been seriously thinking about moving, which is why I left Frederick with my sister. He dislikes travelling.'

‘So would I, were I a cat.' She placed a basket in his hands. ‘We must go to the market, else we won't have anything to eat.'

‘I usually leave that to Mrs Packer.'

‘Mrs Packer isn't here. You must have forgotten to tell her when you'd be returning, else she would have filled the larder.' She scooped up a second basket. ‘Unless you want oatmeal for dinner, come on . . . it won't take long if we hurry. We'll buy enough for today and tomorrow. If I roast a chicken it should last us for two days.'

They also bought eggs, bread, butter, lard, and some bacon and ham, as well as winter vegetables such as cabbage, potatoes, beans and turnips.

Thomas carefully carried a jug of milk home, spilling only a third of the contents. ‘I'll put the jug out for the milk carter to fill in the morning,' he said.

Both the kitchen range and the fireplaces were laid. Celia put a match to the kindling and watched it crackle into life. The brass coal-scuttles were full. Soon the house had warmed up and felt more welcoming.

Mrs Packer was an efficient worker, Celia thought, and indeed, it wasn't long before she came to investigate the smoke coming from the chimney.

‘It's you is it, Reverend? I thought it must be,' she said and her nose sniffed at the air before pointing at Celia, the brow branching over it furrowed. ‘I know you. You're that little beggar girl Reverend Thomas took under his wing. You're back in London, then.'

‘It's just for a short time, Mrs Packer. Thank you for being so helpful to me on that day I came here to say goodbye. I was a child then, but the kindness of people helped me through.'

Mrs Packer turned pink from being complimented. ‘How is your sister?'

‘Lottie is well and happy, and amongst people who care for her.'

‘It was a long way you intended to take her, Miss. I prayed for your safety.'

‘It must have worked, for we got there . . . eventually,' she said gently.

‘Who would have thought to see you again, and you looking such the lady.'

Thomas tut-tutted. ‘Miss Laws is my guest, Mrs Packer. She's no longer a beggar, but is being cared for by her aunt, who is a very respectable lady, and who has just become engaged to my nephew. So let us put talk of her past life behind so she can enjoy the present one. We are to do some readings together while we are here.'

Mrs Packer took no notice of his gentle remonstration. ‘So, Mr Kent is to wed? That's good news. Give him my heartfelt congratulations if you would.' Her glance fell on Celia again. ‘I must say you've grown into a pretty young woman, Miss Laws.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Packer.'

‘What is it you're cooking, Miss?'

‘A chicken and some roast vegetables. I thought it would serve for tomorrow, as well.'

She nodded, as though satisfied with the answer. ‘Don't let the oven get too hot, else it will burn. There's a clean apron in the bottom drawer to protect your clothes. Oh yes . . . and
please
clear up any crumbs, since they encourage the mice. The dirty creatures leave their droppings everywhere if they get a hold. Not that Frederick doesn't do a good job chasing them off when he's not visiting folks in the country.' More abruptly, she said, ‘Do you want me to make your bed up before I go, Miss?'

‘That's kind of you, but I can manage it.'

‘I daresay you can, a young girl like you, not that you haven't got some nice manners though. Despite her situation your mother taught you well.' She gave them both a bit of a smile, one that softened the planes of her face. ‘I'll be off now I know you have everything for your immediate needs. I'll be in tomorrow, as usual. Reverend, your letters and calling cards are on the hallstand.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Packer.' When the door gently closed behind the woman Thomas chuckled rather apologetically. ‘One grows used to Mrs Packer's ways after a while.'

‘I like her. She's very conscientious and she doesn't bow and scrape. She'd fit well into the village of Hanbury Cross.'

A thoughtful expression crossed Thomas' face, at that.

The office was closed until the end of February, except for a clerk who would take appointments, issue receipts for payment of accounts, and inform him should anything that needed his urgent attention arise.

When James took up his magisterial work, a new solicitor would be employed at the legal offices of
Kent & Curtis
. In the meantime he was about to ruin the day, and perhaps the career of another solicitor, but as quietly as possible. James made his way to Dorchester, left his rig to be minded by a lad, and cornered Arthur Avery at his club.

After introducing himself he handed the man a paper. ‘This is a formal notice from Miss Harriet Price of Hanbury Cross terminating your services.'

‘The devil it is,' the man spluttered. ‘We'll see about this. I've been the family solicitor since before she was born, and was affianced to Jane Price. Indeed, since Jane's death I've offered Harriet marriage. I'm still awaiting her answer.'

‘I understand that her answer was negative in that respect on more than one occasion. I'm also aware of what your reaction to that refusal was. Miss Price has some concerns about the way you've been handling the estates of her relations, and of the manner in which you conduct business. After examining those concerns and the evidence presented by several business houses, my partner, Charles Curtis, and I concur with those concerns. You have until the end of March to present documents to support your claims that no fraudulent charges have been levelled against the Price estate, and it is indeed bankrupt – or offer suitable settlement as recompense.'