Nodding a greeting to the gatekeeper, she entered the imposing stone building and walked to the front desk intending to chat with one of the nurses before visiting, but the hall stood empty. Undeterred, for circumstances often caused a depleted staff or unexpected emergency, Emily placed the wicker basket at her feet and moved to wait by a window overlooking the center courtyard. This side of the hospital was partitioned by the north wing adjacent to the chapel. A grassy knoll bordered by a bright flower garden, littered with daisies and buttercups, lay parallel to the walk where a corpulent ginger cat had found respite in a comfortable patch of sunlight. Content absorbing the day’s warmth, its tail twitched lazily until the feline turned in her direction and looked straight through the window where she watched.
The cat held her gaze for several beats of her heart until a scuffle near the front door drew her attention away and she spun to see a gentleman enter, his face a mask of tolerant anger, his fist gripped tight on the collar of a young boy, no more than seven or eight years of age, his feet bare and clothing torn. The child, disguised by filth, didn’t struggle though Emily could see in his wounded expression she hadn’t witnessed the worst of the conflict. Two nurses entered, their conversation fading as they discovered the scene in the vestibule.
Emily stepped aside to offer the nurses privacy as the gentlemen explained, but with unforeseen happenstance, the child wriggled from the gentleman’s grasp and slinked to stand at her side, the touch of his cold tiny fingers pressed into her palm as if he reached for any scrap of salvation she reserved in her soul. Her heart blossomed with his trust. She offered his hand a firm squeeze of comfort and leaned into the basket to withdraw a gingerbread biscuit. He glanced at her outstretched palm, eyes wide, then snatched the treat, devouring it with hardly a breath between bites.
“Jenny, please gather the necessary paperwork.” The lead nurse motioned to the other to do her bidding, but it was of no use. The gentleman departed with nary a glance backward. “Find Dr. Alastar and tell him we’ll need his assistance as soon as possible.”
Emily eyed the young boy, who darted glances toward the exit, likely considering escape as soon as he believed his flight successful. He looked wild at first glimpse, his hair overgrown and stringy, his clothes ill fit, but she knew beneath the grime of the city, a child’s innocence lived in his chest. She could see it in his woeful expression.
“What’s happening here?” The doctor entered, his commanding presence enough to spur the lad to seek refuge near her skirts where he grasped the cloth as if to anchor in safety.
“A gentleman came by with this scallywag in hand. Another mudlark, no doubt. He didn’t know what to do with him as his wife begged him to help, but he appeared uncomfortable with the act of charity and left directly after.”
Mudlarks were comprised of misfits and runaways who lived an independent life along the Thames, pilfering whatever could be found and sold from the shallow waters. Scavenging proved a hard and lonely life, where children were lost to disease, drowning or accident. Emily placed her hand on the boy’s shoulder as a swell of instinct urged she protect his precious spirit. She’d never wanted for food or clothing. Yet she was not so unlike the child in a different way, as surely they both wanted for the affection and approval of a loving parent. At least Emily did so at one time.
“I’m sure the visitor considers his duty done.” Emily’s mutter drew the attention of both doctor and nurse.
“Miss Shaw, my apologies for this scene.” Dr. Alastar strode forward and the child shrank in equal measure. “With all this commotion, I’ve neglected propriety. Forgive me.” His professional demeanor transformed into easy charm.
“Please don’t give it another thought. I’ve come to visit the children as always, although it would appear there will be a new addition in the group.” She turned a gentle smile toward the lad pressed into her side.
“He’ll need a bath and fresh clothing. You shouldn’t be so near until we’ve determined he’s healthy.” The doctor went to one knee, but the child pressed harder into Emily’s side. Was it her imagination or could she feel him trembling through the layers of her walking dress?
The doctor nodded toward the nurse and she took the initiative with a broad smile. “Come now, what’s your name? Wouldn’t you like a hot bath?”
The questions prompted the child to withdraw further and Emily’s heart ached at the atrocities he might have endured living near the river, under a bridge or perhaps, sleeping on the cold damp ground night after night. How deep were his scars that he’d not recognize genuine kindness and shun the basic essentials of cleanliness and warm clothing?
She stared at the top of his filthy blond head, the color all but obscured. He remained mute, silenced by fear or other inhibitions. Emily twisted to free her skirts and knelt beside the nurse to clasp the lad’s hands tightly within her own. “I have more treats in my basket. Not just biscuits, but small toys as well. If you’ll go with the kind nurse, you’ll be clean and ready for supper like all the other children who will fast become your friends.”
A breach in wariness softened the worry etched in his brow. He glanced to the nurse who’d stepped away and then returned his gaze to Emily, the cynical sideways glance exposing suspicion beyond his tender years. A moment passed before he shoved his fingers into his left pocket, his forehead puckered with determination.
Emily watched as his free hand worked to retrieve something from his torn trousers, for surely his stance and perseverance proved it as important.
At last, when she worried Dr. Alastar would show no more patience, the lad accomplished his goal and wriggling a piece of jewelry from the assorted trinkets dragged from his pocket in a tangled clump, treasures he’d salvaged from the perils of the Thames. He gathered the silver chain together and pressed it into her palm.
Startled, Emily glanced from bracelet to child, before acknowledging his trust with a grateful smile. “How delightful. Thank you ever so much. I will treasure this always.”
With her words, all apprehension faded. The lad left without a squeak of protest and Emily stared after him, the gift safe in her palm and the hope for another child’s future happiness warm in her soul.
Across the city, Jasper stole a glance out the window as Penwick exited his carriage. A skip of anticipation, inspired by his desire to succeed, beat a cadence in rhythm to the earl’s walking stick against the slates. Sleep had eluded him last night. Was the thief of his respite eagerness for business or the recurring image of Miss Shaw’s stunning blue eyes? He did not know. Amusement dared distract as memories of the lady’s indignation renewed, but he suppressed the daydream. Now was not the time for fanciful notions. This morning he hoped to secure his first client and initiate an endeavor toward a lucrative, respected future; thus proving his worth to his overbearing brother.
His brother.
Jasper considered Dashwood’s imminent return. The wedding trip, initially planned for one month’s time, had already extended a week overlong. How he’d like to secure an account or two before Dash stormed into London, newly married and forever condescending.
Penwick entered and with tempered enthusiasm Jasper rounded the desk to greet the earl. He’d hardly completed niceties before Randolph rushed through the door.
“Excellent. Excellent timing.” Randolph’s jovial announcement brought pause. “I wouldn’t want to miss this appointment.” He angled a pointed glare at Penwick, then lower to the earl’s cravat and Randolph’s eyes flared.
They all seated before Jasper’s desk, but instead of aiming attention to Nasmyth’s invention, the conversation swiftly turned to Penwick’s neckcloth.