Page 168 of Rakes & Reticules
“No,” agreed Sampson. “The father and son both worked for Robert Dunn. Before that, they were pickpockets and taught Violet the trade. That, however, has nothing to do with why she doesn’t speak.
“She and her mother were set upon one night by two men. Her mother put up a fight, and according to a witness, Violet tried to kick and bite the attackers. One of them caught her, holding her back as the other pushed her mother and grabbed her bag. She fell and hit her head. The men fled, leaving Violet crying over her mother’s lifeless body.”
He paused, letting them think about the news. “She never spoke after that.”
“Oh, my heavens.” Mrs. Clatterly shook her head and dabbed her eyes with her apron.
Mr. Clatterly scowled.
Dottie reached for Sampson’s hand without thought. Oh, how her chest hurt, but it was for Violet. When he squeezed her fingers in return, reached across the table, and wiped a tear from her cheek, the river flowed. He pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat and handed it to her.
“Will she ever speak again?” she asked.
Sampson shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s possible. But I believe when I grabbed her last Sunday, that memory—or parts of it—came flooding back.”
“Thank you for coming to tell us.” Dottie blew her nose, then chewed her bottom lip, wondering if she should give the handkerchief back.
“I’m sorry for Violet. And I’m sorry for losing my temper.”
“No, you have nothing to apologize for,” she said. “I—”
“Had to survive, as my second mother pointed out.” He put his other hand over hers. “I will say this in front of the Clatterlys. In front of all London if I must. I love you, Dottie Brown or Dunn or whatever name you decide to take. You have an inner strength to match my own, and I can’t imagine a better woman by my side.”
She sniffed and blew her nose again. Definitely not giving it back until she washed it.I can’t imagine a better woman by my side.Her gaze snapped to his face. That crooked smile again.
“Paddy always says a person should try to follow bad news with good news. I hope you consider this good news.” He cleared his throat. “Dottie, would you be my wife?”
She swallowed. This week had been miserable, thinking she’d never see him again. “What about Violet?”
“Of course, she’d be welcome—”
“She’s staying with us.”
Three pairs of eyes turned to look at Mr. Clatterly. “You can spend all the time with her that you want, but we’ve an extra room upstairs. The lass considers this as her home now. Ain’t no one gonna upset her again.”
“Could we leave it up to Violet?” asked Dottie. She had never heard the man put so many words together at one time. She turned to Sampson. “Are you sure…Iam what you want?”
“Never been more certain of anything.”
“Then, yes.”
“Heaven help us!” cried Mrs. Clatterly. “There’s going to be a wedding!”
EPILOGUE
Christmas Eve 1821
Dottie carried the plum pudding to the dining room and set it in the center of the table. Mr. and Mrs. Clatterly sat across from her and Violet, with Sampson at the head of the table.
“Sam, would you light the plum pudding?” she asked him.
His heart was full. He had a beautiful wife, a babe on the way, a thriving practice, and his dream of a hospital for unmarried mothers was coming to fruition. He was truly blessed. He only wished his parents were here to see the “family” he had surrounding him.
Sam smiled as Dottie poured the brandy around the pudding. He went to the mantel and retrieved the tinder box. After lighting the stick, he handed it to Violet.
“I believe Violet should do the honors this year.”
The lass had come so far. She was thriving with the Clatterlys, spent afternoons with Dottie for her lessons, and even spoke occasionally.
Violet grinned and jumped from her chair. Carefully, she took the burning stick from Sam and held it to the pudding. They all clapped as the flame caught and lit up the dessert. Dottie and Mrs. Clatterly blinked back tears. Mr. Clatterly rubbed at his eyes.
“Happy Christmas,” she whispered, and they all cheered.
THE END
