Wedding In Springtime(32)

The party began to break up and some of the men took their leave. The  coats were requested, and Genie followed her aunt and uncle into the  entryway of the grand Marchford house. The rest of the potential  husbands prepared to leave, with Mr. Blakely bowing over her hand.

"Perhaps we can meet again soon and you can show me this contraband guidebook," said Blakely in an undertone.

"I'd like that," she whispered back. "I shall have to smuggle it out of my room somehow."

"Perhaps a secret rendezvous?" he suggested.

"Yes, let's!" Genie agreed.

Lady Bremerton drifted closer, making the sharing of confidences impossible, so Blakely took his leave.

"Made a new friend?" asked Grant with a slight edge to his voice Genie was unaccustomed to hearing.

Genie chose to ignore the comment and replied in an undertone, "I am sorry you were stuck playing whist with my aunt."

"It was my best game of whist in years," declared Grant, but Genie was  unsure it was a compliment. "Did you have a good evening?" Mr. Grant met  her eye.

"I had a most respectable time," said Genie, and then realized she had  chosen the wrong word. She meant to say lovely or entertaining or  pleasant, not "respectable."

Grant laughed, and in the confusion brought by the arrival of their  coats, he whispered, "How dreadful. You have my full sympathy."

"I meant to say it was a pleasant evening," Genie whispered back.

"Now I know what you truly mean if you ever use that word. I do hope you  will never describe me as ‘pleasant.'" With a wicked wink, Grant  escorted her to the door. She left but not without leaving a few slivers  of her heart behind.

***

"How was it Mr. Blakely found you?" asked Marchford after all the guests had left.

"Entered the study saying he was looking for the dining room," said Grant.

"A ruse?"

Grant shrugged. "You have a big house. He's unfamiliar with it. Get lost myself sometimes."         

     



 

The men returned to the study where Lord Thornton was reading a book in a  chair, his back to the wall and the entire study within view. A loaded  revolver sat on an end table next to him. The broken window had been  boarded up, giving the normally sophisticated study a shanty feel.

Thornton snapped the book closed when the men entered. "What's the plan?"

"To catch a thief," stated Marchford, producing a black bag and proceeding to pull out tools.

Grant picked up a handsaw and a gimlet. "Exactly what do you intend to do with this thief? Seems a bloody mess."

"These are for some renovations," said Marchford.

"What do ye plan to do?" asked Thornton.

"I intend to make some modifications, and I am hoping you both will prove to be able tradesmen to do it," said Marchford.

"What?!" cried Grant. "Too far, my friend! Remind me why I am here standing guard over this thing?"

"Because there is no one else I trust," said Marchford simply. He rolled  out a scroll with some roughly drawn plans. "This is the plan. Do you  think it possible?" he asked Thornton who was looking over his shoulder.

"Aye, 'tis possible, but it will ruin the paneling."

"Grandma won't like it," stated Grant.

"That is nothing new," muttered Marchford. "I will leave this project in your capable hands."

"Leave? Where are you going?" demanded Grant.

"I have a date with an opera singer."





Twenty


Jem crept through the dark alley, though the night was black as pitch.  It was not his first time finding the door in the dark. He entered the  cellar through a gap in a boarded window. A single candle burned on an  old table, a small point of light that seemed to be swallowed whole by  the dark surroundings.

"So you finally decided to join us," said the man with the burned hands.

"Sorry. I had to wait till that housekeeper went to sleep. She's a cunning one."

"The lads had to wait for you to return to be fed," said the Candyman  with deceptive mildness. He gestured to a row of five-foot square cages  along the wall. Locked inside were skinny children, their eyes  reflecting the single flame of the candle. They were unnaturally silent.

"Tell me what you have learned, and I will tell you if they have earned any bread today," said the man.

Jem told the man his adventures with Mr. Grant and Miss Talbot. He did not tell about the kiss.

"I told you to get inside the Marchford house, what do I care for Mr. Grant," yelled the Candyman.

"But you said I should gain their trust and I did," argued Jem.

The man stood in a flash and struck Jem across the mouth with a closed  fist. Jem flew back and rolled into a ball. It was not the first time he  had tasted blood.

"None of your back talk. Get in the cage," demanded the man. Jem  scrambled inside if only to protect himself from further abuse. The cage  door locked shut with an echoing click. "No food today. If any of you  are hungry, you can blame Jem, who did not do what I asked." The man  held up a small key. "Fortunately, I now have the key to the safe. All I  need now is to get into the Marchford house, and you, boy, are going to  help me do it."

The man took the candle and went up the cellar stairs, leaving the dank  basement in utter darkness. Jem began to pull scones and biscuits, ham,  and lamb shank from his pockets, socks, and hat, and passed them through  the bars to the boy next to him who took some and passed it along.

"Thanks, Jem," came a whispered response. Jem curled into a ball and  went to sleep, trying not to hear the faint crying from one of the  younger boys. The older ones knew better than to waste their tears.

***

The sun was shining brightly and Genie awoke with a smile on her face.  She could not help it, her first thought was of Grant. She gave herself a  mental shake and tried to redirect her thoughts toward Mr. Blakely. He  was a kind man and not afraid of her guidebook, which could only  recommend him. As her maid assisted her into a morning dress of light  blue, she had to continue to remind herself which man held precedence in  her thoughts. Despite her determination, it took some mental effort to  direct her thoughts toward Mr. Blakely, a practice that made her weary  even at the breakfast table.

Somewhere over crumpets and eggs, she saw a red head peek through the  front window. "Excuse me!" she exclaimed and hustled to the garden,  where she found the expected Jem. Did he have a message for her from  Grant or her brother?

"Jem! Are you well?"

"Yes'm. Gots a message for you." The boy handed her a neat envelope. Jem on the other hand, was less than tidy.         

     



 

"Why, Jem. What has happened to your new clothes? They are so dirty. You must take better care of yourself."

"Yes, milady." The boy hung his head.

"Now do not be discouraged. I understand it is hard for little boys to stay clean. You must try your best. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded and ground a booted toe into the dirt.

Genie opened the letter and was a bit disappointed to find it was not  from Grant. The missive was from Mr. Blakely, suggesting they meet at  Marchford house to discuss the guidebook without the danger of Lady  Bremerton's disdain.

"Tell the man who gave you this letter that I will meet him at Marchford house during morning calls, do you understand?"

Jem nodded, but evaded her eye. "Wouldn't you rather spend time with Grant? That cove is togged in twig."

"I do not understand." Genie often struggled to understand the young urchin, but this time he had lost her.

"He's a fine dresser and nice. You do like him, don't you?"

Genie sighed. "I'm sorry you saw our, er, embrace yesterday. I do like Mr. Grant, but I need to make other friends as well."

"I says you shouldn't."

"You have a kind heart, Jem. Can you deliver the message?"

"If you wish." Jem dragged his feet walking out of the garden and Genie  wondered at his apparent dejection. She shrugged to no one in particular  and traipsed upstairs to find a reticule big enough to hide her  guidebook.

***

"Lions? Does it really have lions?" Genie bent closer over the guidebook, her head close to Mr. Blakely's.

"Yes, I believe the Tower of London does have lions," answered Blakely. "I think that should go to the top of our list."

"Definitely!" Genie had easily convinced Lady Bremerton to let her visit  Penelope at the Marchford house. She told Pen and the dowager of her  planned meeting with Mr. Blakely, which was met with enthusiasm. As soon  as Blakely arrived, the dowager suggested they visit the garden, and so  Genie found herself on a bench next to him, with Penelope somewhere  amongst the hedges to maintain propriety.

"Look, they list their names," exclaimed Genie, turning the page on her  red, bound volume of The Picture of London. Genie had purchased the fat  volume for five shillings and despite the grief she had endured about  it, was quite enchanted with the two pullout maps and several nice  engravings.