Page 156 of Rakes & Reticules
Paddy and Margaret had never been blessed with children of their own. They threw themselves wholeheartedly into the one they had created. Sam couldn’t have been more cherished by his own parents.
“There’s a pretty little costermonger near St. James Park on Sundays. Last week, she had the tastiest berry tarts.”
“Yer favorite,” Margaret added with a smile. “A pretty little thing, is she? Sounds like yer takin’ dis new idea of a wife to heart. Unmarried or widowed?”
He gave her a side look and shook his head. “A widow but don’t get any ideas. While I have decided on the need to marry, there is no one in particular that has caught my interest yet.”
“Me, ideas?” she asked, a twinkle in her dark eyes. “I only want ye happy.”
“Your mission has been accomplished.” Sam knew this was true for all of them. The O’Briens had saved their lives. “She had a book with her, which is very unusual. She intrigued me. That’s all. I barely know her.”
“Ah, sorry, but yer eyes tell a different story. The heart has no calendar or clock.” She patted his hand. “A mother always knows. Won’t ye unburden yer mind?”
With a sigh, Sam realized he wanted to. The woman always knew when he had something worrying him. So, he told her about the last admission day at Magdalen House and the poor girl who had been turned away. How he hoped to open something similar but for those who found themselves alone and with child.
“Tis more than a dream, ain’t it, Sampson? Ye already have some bits of a plan in place.” She beamed at him, her cheeks round as her smile grew. “And how does the pretty little costermonger fit in?”
“She taught at a girls’ school—” How did this woman always read his thoughts? Was it intuition? Would he have the same kind of intuition with his own offspring? He doubted it.
“Go on.”
With a resigned sigh, he explained the rest of his scheme to procure a building with his own funds, then look for benefactors to help run the home. “And Mrs. Brown might be the perfect instructor to teach these girls skills that will help them become independent, give them the ability to raise their children without…”
“Becomin’ doxies,” Margaret finished.
“Precisely,” he agreed, a bit embarrassed.
“’Tis a fine goal, Sampson. If anyone can accomplish it, ‘tis you.”
“As Paddy says, all your geese are swans.”
“Nothin’ wrong with swans.” She patted his hand and rose to join the others. “When ye decide to court this pastry woman, remember to bring her home for us ta meet.”
She walked away before he could respond, leaving him astonished at her insight as he followed her to the parlor. The woman had a gift. If he could bottle and sell her insight, the Hospital of Hope would be up and running in no time.
CHAPTERSIX
End of October
It was Sunday. Dottie packed her cart, looked at the dreary day, and debated going to St. James. If it didn’t clear up, there would be no one to sell her goods to. But Dr. Brooks might appear, as he had each week since their first meeting. He never stayed overly long, but bought half her pastries, saying he was now expected to bring something for his Sunday dinners. Whether that was true, she didn’t know. But selling out so quickly gave her extra time with Violet.
“Close the O on your name, Violet, or it will look like a U. Then we’ll have to pronounce your name Vioolet.”
The girl giggled at that and shook her head. But she wiped the offending O from the writing slate and made another. She looked up at Dottie for approval.
“Very nice,” she said and kissed the child on top of her head. Humming and giggling had become such a sweet sound. But would she ever hear actual words coming from the girl’s mouth? “Now, let’s try your numbers 1-5. I’ll write them first, and you will copy them.”
Violet nodded, her tongue peeking out as she concentrated on forming the numbers. She was a curious student and learned quickly. It filled a void in Dottie to be teaching again. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed it.
She peered out the window again. “I hope it stops raining.”
Violet spread out her hands and put her thumbs together, moving back and forth like a ship, then pointed to the bible they read from each night.
“Oh my,” Dottie said with a chuckle, “I hope we don’t need to build an ark.”
Violet nodded enthusiastically.
She went behind the stove, careful of the hot metal from the glowing coal, and retrieved the tin that held her savings. Taking out all the ha’pennies, she pushed them toward Violet. “Remember how to count along with the numbers?”
