The Daughter of Highland Hall (18 page)

Jon closed his mouth and held his breath as he stepped over a large pile of horse droppings in the middle of the street. Kate lifted the skirt of her navy-blue suit and sidestepped the offending mess.

“Sorry.” He glanced her way. “They don’t clean the streets in the East End as often as they do in Kensington.”

“It’s all right. I’m familiar with horses and what they leave behind. It doesn’t bother me.” But the firm set of her mouth made him question her words.

Lydia scanned the darkening sky and moved closer to Kate’s side. “It looks like we’re in for a downpour, miss.”

Kate looked up with a slight frown. “I wish I’d thought to bring my umbrella.”

Jon grimaced. He should have suggested that. A cold wind whipped past, sending torn pieces of newspaper and bits of trash swirling down the cobblestone street. He tugged his hat lower on his head. The cool temperatures made it feel more like March than May.

“Is it much farther?”

“We turn left at the next corner, and then it’s just a short distance.” He should have insisted they take a cab, but Kate said she didn’t mind riding the bus.

“My mother was right.” Lydia clutched her pocketbook close as two rather shady-looking characters crossed the street toward them. “This is not the best area of town.”

Jon kept a close eye on the men until they passed.

Kate lifted her chin and took Lydia’s arm. “It certainly isn’t, but we have to find your sister.”

“Of course, miss, and I’m ever so grateful to you and Mr. Foster for your help.”

“We’re glad to do it.” Jon sent Kate a quick smile. In spite of the threatening storm, the dirty streets, and the unsavory characters, she seemed determined to press on.

They rounded the corner, and Kate slowed and touched his arm. “Look, Jon.” She nodded toward two little girls huddled in a shop doorway. Both wore ragged, stained dresses. The older girl looked to be nine or ten, and she held the other, just a toddler, on her lap. The little one coughed, and a wheezing sound followed.

He noted her flushed face, damp hair, and glassy eyes. She was obviously ill, and it looked as though she had a fever. Was it bronchitis? pneumonia?

The older girl looked up at them with dirt-smudged cheeks. “Please, sir, you want to buy some matches?” She reached in her sweater pocket and pulled out a small, dented paper box.

Jon’s heart clenched, but he hesitated. If he gave her money, would it be used to buy food and medicine, or would a desperate parent use the funds to buy drink or something worse? And where were their parents? How could they leave such young children alone on the street?

He glanced at the flushed toddler and pushed aside his questions. It would be better to err on the side of compassion. “Yes, I would. Thank you.” He reached in his pocket, then bent down and held out the folded note to the older girl.

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. “That’s too much, sir.”

“No, it’s all right.” He held his hand steady.

She bit her lip, and her wide brown eyes darted from Jon to Kate and Lydia.

Kate stepped forward. “Please, we want you to have it.”

The girl slowly extended her hand with the box of matches and exchanged it for the one-pound note.

Jon crouched before her. “Is this your sister?”

“Yes,” she whispered and ran her hand gently over the younger girl’s dark-brown, tangled hair.

Jon touched the toddler’s forehead, and heat radiated into his hand. “I’m afraid she’s unwell. She should see a doctor.”

The older girl’s eyes widened, and she bit her lip.

“There’s a free clinic not too far from here, on the corner of Fourth and Conover Street. Do you know where that is?”

She hesitated, then nodded, though it was unconvincing. The toddler shifted on her lap and coughed again.

Kate touched his arm. “Perhaps we should take them there.”

The older girl clutched her sister and pulled back. “No, our brother can take us. He’ll be back soon. He just went to get us something to eat.”

Kate glanced at Jon, doubt shadowing her eyes.

Was the girl telling the truth? How could he walk away without knowing if she would take her little sister to Daystar?

Lydia reached in her pocketbook. “Why don’t you enjoy these peppermints until your brother comes back?” She handed the older girl two candies.

The girl took them and whispered her thanks. She unwrapped the first one and gave it to her sister. The little one slipped it in her mouth and turned her head away.

Jon stood, a plan forming in his mind. They would come back this way after they spoke to Helen, and if the girls were still here, he would take them to Daystar Clinic himself, though he wasn’t sure how he would convince them to go along.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” A scruffy lad who looked about twelve or thirteen pushed past Kate and stood in front of the little girls. He raised his pointed chin and glared at Jon. “Don’t be bothering my sisters.”

Before Jon could answer, the older sister tugged on her brother’s shirttail. “They just stopped to buy some matches.” She held out the folded note to him.

The boy’s expression eased. “Oh, well, it’s all right then.”

Jon placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and took him aside. “Your
younger sister has a fever. You should take her to the Daystar Clinic on Fourth and Conover.”

Suspicion shadowed the boy’s eyes. “Why should I listen to you?”

“I’m a doctor in training at St. George’s Hospital. I can see she’s ill.”

The lad’s stubborn stance eased. “We don’t have money for a doctor.”

“It’s a free clinic. Ask for Dr. Alfred Pittsford. He’ll take care of your sister.” Jon gave him directions. The boy took it in with a confident nod. He seemed to be an intelligent lad and was certainly protective of his sisters.

“Come on, Rose. Let’s go.” The lad reached out a hand to help his sister up.

Rose grimaced and struggled to rise and lift the toddler.

Jon’s heart lurched in his chest. Was Rose unwell herself?

“Here, I’ll take her.” The lad stepped forward and lifted his younger sister into his arms. He straightened and shifted her weight, but it was obvious it would be a long and difficult walk for them to reach the clinic.

Kate moved to Jon’s side. “Let’s hail a cab for them.” She reached in her purse and pulled out three folded notes.

He glanced down the street. There weren’t many cabs in this part of town. How long would they have to wait for one to pass by?

Lydia pointed toward the corner. “Look, there’s one now.”

Jon lifted his fingers to his mouth and gave a loud whistle, then waved his arm in the air.

“My, that’s certainly a loud whistle.” Kate’s eyes glowed as she looked up at him.

He grinned. “It’s come in handy a few times.”

The horse-drawn cab rolled to a stop at the curb. Jon stepped forward and spoke to the driver. Kate joined him and held out the money.

Jon covered her hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No, I want to help.” She held his gaze until he nodded.

The driver took the notes from Kate. Lydia helped the children into the cab while Jon gave instructions to the driver.

He touched his cap. “Don’t worry. I’ll look after the young ones.”

“Thank you,” Kate called as the cab rolled away.

Jon’s gaze traveled from the cab to Kate, warmth spreading through his chest. She truly cared about those children and wanted to do what she could to help them. This was a side of her he hadn’t seen before … one that connected them in a new way and made him appreciate her even more.

Kate watched the cab as it disappeared around the corner, then she glanced at Jon. He had been so gentle with those little girls, and he’d shown just the right balance of firmness and kindness with the young boy. She hadn’t seen those qualities displayed very often by the men in her life. Her father had been aloof and brusque, more interested in his horses and hunting dogs than his daughters. She had longed for his approval when she was young, and she’d taken up riding in the hope of winning it, but it hadn’t helped. She wasn’t the son he had always wanted, and there was no way she could win his love.

Thank goodness Jon was nothing like him.

“That was quite wonderful.” She smiled up at him, and an unexpected lump lodged in her throat.

He returned her smile as they started down the street again. “I’m glad they’re safely on their way. I’m sure Dr. Pittsford will take good care of them.”

Kate swallowed and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “I don’t know why helping them touched me so.”

Jon glanced her way. “Some of the best moments of my life have been when I’m helping someone in need. And when it’s a child, that brings even greater joy.”

Jon’s words resonated in her heart, and she nodded. “All my life I’ve been surrounded by wealth and comfort. I’ve rarely seen anyone truly in need, let alone reached out to help them. Of course I’ve heard about the poor in sermons and taken gifts to the retired servants on Boxing Day, but they weren’t really needy.”

“It’s quite different to see the poor face to face—to realize each one is an individual with their own story and needs similar to our own.” His voice was soft, but filled with conviction.

“Yes, it is.”

“Helping someone like that always makes me feel as though I’m partnering with the Lord in a special way.”

Was that why it moved her so, that connection with God, that feeling of being used by Him?

A few raindrops splashed on the pavement in front of them. Jon lifted his hand to his hat. “We’d better hurry.”

Lydia took Kate’s arm again, and they hustled down the street. An old woman, hunched over and burdened with shopping bags, walked past. A delivery truck honked and swerved around a slow-moving, horse-drawn cart carrying crates of vegetables.

“There it is.” Jon motioned across the street to a butcher shop with an entrance at the side. “That door leads to the flats upstairs.”

They waited for the traffic to clear, then crossed the street. Jon opened the side door.

Stale air, ripe with rotting food, greeted Kate as she stepped inside. She covered her mouth and nose against the foul odor. Jon closed the outside door, and the light in the hallway became so dim she could barely see.

“Helen’s flat is number 3B.” Lydia squinted and looked up the narrow stairs. “It must be up there.”

“I’ll go first.” Jon led the way up the rickety staircase. Kate followed, and Lydia brought up the rear.

The stairs creaked underfoot, and a shiver raced down Kate’s back. What a horrid place. She couldn’t imagine living in this stench and darkness. They reached the first floor, and Jon stopped and looked down the hallway.

An eerie squeak and scratching sound came from the corner. Kate stepped closer to Jon. “What was that?”

Before Jon could answer, a rat ran out of the dark corner toward them.

Kate yelped and grabbed Jon’s arm.

“Go on!” Jon stamped his foot and frightened the rodent away.

Kate lifted her hand to her chest. “My goodness. I’ve never seen a rat before, except in a book.”

Lydia chuckled. “I’ve seen plenty of them on the farm, but not as large as that one.”

“Come on.” Jon placed his hand over Kate’s, keeping her close to his side as they continued down the hall. The number 3B was scratched into the door at the end.

“This is it.” Lydia lifted her hand and knocked gently three times.

They waited, and when no one answered, Jon stepped forward and rapped on the door again, louder this time. Still no one came.

Lydia’s shoulders sagged. “All this way, and no one’s home.”

Kate scanned the hallway. “Perhaps one of the neighbors can tell us when they might return.”

Lydia walked to the door marked 3A and knocked.

Seconds later, the door squeaked open a few inches. An old woman with frizzy gray hair peered out. She wore a faded brown dress covered by a stained apron. Her eyes narrowed as she looked them up and down. “What do you want?”

“Good day, ma’am. My name is Lydia Chambers. I’m looking for my sister, Helen Chambers. I believe she’s staying in 3B.” Lydia pointed to her sister’s door. “She’s not home. Do you know when she’s coming back?”

The old woman hesitated. “Maybe I do”—she looked past Lydia at Jon, and suspicion clouded her eyes—“and maybe I don’t.”

“Please, ma’am, she’s only eighteen, and my parents are worried about her. We think she’s with a man named Charlie Gibbons. He’s a big, tall man, about twenty-five, with reddish-brown hair.”

The old woman’s gray eyebrows rose. “Your parents have a reason to worry about that one! He spends more time in the pub than he does looking for work.”

Lydia flashed a concerned glance at Kate. “Do you know where they’ve gone or when they’ll return?”

“They won’t be coming ’round here anytime soon. Butcher Nelson sent them packing when Gibbons didn’t pay the rent.” The old woman shook her head. “I hope they found somewhere to stay, her being with child and all.”

Lydia gasped. “She’s pregnant?”

The old woman cocked her head. “You didn’t know?”

“I haven’t seen my sister since December.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but it’s true. She tried to keep it a secret, but I heard her crying in the hallway one night, and I called her in. She told me the whole sorry story.”