Page 55 of The Secret Identity of the Lord's Aide
Peter gaped at both of them. Bess was unable to hold Lord Linfield’s gaze for long. No longer hungry, she pushed her scone to the side and tilted her head towards the door. She stuttered slightly, searching for words.
“I think, I mean. I believe it might be time for us to take that stroll,” she said, unable to find the words to thank him for his kindness. “If you’re still up for it, Lord Linfield.”
Lord Linfield ate the last of his scone, ensuring that Peter knew just how scrumptious it was before rising from his chair. Bess was conscious of her nerves, which seemed to wrap around her throat and make it difficult for her to speak. Peter had agreed to come along, and he wrapped the scarf Irene had recently knitted for him (during a night of panic and rage at someone at The Rising Sun offices) around and around his neck.
The three of them marched along the side of the road, in what was, admittedly, one of the rougher areas of London. Even seeing Lord Linfield amongst the people of the neighbourhood was a shock to Bess, as the contrast was so great. Lord Linfield was very much representative of her old life, her life of money and pleasure, of dancing and Society, whilst her new neighbourhood represented the hardships of her life.
“Where are we going, Lady Elizabeth?” Lord Linfield finally asked, breaking the silence.
Peter whirled around, giving Lord Linfield a big-toothed grin. “It’s absolutely incredible what you don’t know about Lady Elizabeth,” he tittered. “How is it you could have worked alongside her for these months and not known? Of course, I’ve known her for years. I suppose you wouldn’t have guessed that.”
Bess grinned sheepishly, loving the way Peter was taking over—trying to bolster her reputation in front of this man. Perhaps Peter sensed just how much Lord Linfield meant to her. Or perhaps Peter simply wanted to appear impressive to Lord Linfield, himself. Regardless, it was a tender operation.
“You’re making me feel rather foolish, Peter,” Lord Linfield said, although his voice was playful. His eyes turned from Lady Elizabeth, to Peter, and back. It seemed as though he was enjoying the show.
“My parents were both killed, unfortunately,” Peter said. “And I was out on the street. It was a tragic time, truly. But Lady Elizabeth opened a shelter within the larger homeless centre, for children like me and my sister.” He paused. A shadow flickered across his face.
Lord Linfield looked incredulous. He adjusted his hat as a carriage passed them, clunking along the cobblestones. “My goodness,” was all he could say. It was clear that whatever he’d felt was the “performance” was now finished.
Bess supposed there wasn’t much to say beyond that.
“But you must understand, Lord Linfield,” Peter offered. “She knows just what the children need to hear. She brought a remarkable comfort, in the wake of so much sadness. Especially after my sister, well.”
It was already clear what Peter was going to say. Lord Linfield just gave the boy a firm nod. An explanation was not necessary, especially as it seemed too difficult to verbalise.
They were arriving at the shelter itself. Bess halted just outside the doorway, watching as Lord Linfield peered in through the window. Suddenly, Peter bolted up the steps of the centre, waving his hands at the boys and girls he’d once known and grown up alongside, on the streets. Lord Linfield returned his gaze to Lady Elizabeth. It was one of confusion, of intrigue.
“You must be some sort of saint,” he offered.
Lady Elizabeth couldn’t help chuckling. “I can assure you, that’s not true,” she said.
“Then what led you to do this?” Lord Linfield asked, tilting his head. “I’ve known many women in my time in Society. Countless women who speak countless languages, who’ve read books and talked their way in circles around me with their intellect. Truly, they didn’t have the writing chops you do—but beyond that …” He paused for a moment, again peering in through the centre window. “Beyond that, you’ve saved the lives of so many, Lady Elizabeth. What on earth led you to do such an act?”
Suddenly, Peter peered back out from the doorway. He gestured, tossing his body back towards the large room behind him. “Lord Linfield, come along! Don’t you want to meet the others?”
Bess opened her lips to tell Peter that of course, Lord Linfield had much better things to do that afternoon than meet all of Peter’s friends from the street. But to her surprise, Lord Linfield hurried forward, dropping his boot against the first step.
“Of course, Peter,” he said. “I would like nothing more.”
Bess felt she was lost in some kind of dream. She followed behind Lord Linfield, into the smog of children and other homeless people. Lady Margaret was manning one of the soup stations and sent her hand waving towards Bess, giving her a wide grin.
Lord Linfield lowered his head to Bess’ ear, remarking on Lady Margaret, “Why, I didn’t know that Lady Margaret was also a member of staff?”
Bess grinned. “It’s how we met, actually.”
“There’s so much I don’t know about you, Lady Elizabeth,” Lord Linfield said. “You’re eternally a mystery.”
Peter introduced Lord Linfield to several of his friends, the girls and boys he’d grown up with on the street. Bess was surprised to note how humble Lord Linfield was as he spoke to them, frequently falling to his knees and shaking the younger ones’ hands. In turn, the children took to him, frequently passing their bowls of soup to him in offering.
“No, darling,” Lord Linfield said. “In fact, it’s terribly important that you eat all of this soup yourself, so that you can grow big and strong. I myself am already big and strong.”
Peter beamed at Lady Elizabeth from the far end of the room, tilting his head towards Lord Linfield as he made his way through the ranks of the shelter. Lady Margaret blushed wildly when he addressed her, his voice familiar. The children were impressed that she’d met him before they had, and they crowded around her, whispering. “How did you come to know Lord Linfield?” they asked. “Is it true that he’s going to be in Parliament?” “Do you think he’ll ever come back to see us?”
The children were certainly thrilled to see Bess, although, of course, her appearance wasn’t as much of a surprise. “Hello, my darling,” Bess said to Charlotte, a girl of around eight, who’d been coming to the shelter for the past two years. “I expect you’ve been keeping yourself warm?”
Charlotte shivered against her, drawing her arms tight around Bess’ legs. “It’s really quite marvellous to see you.” Charlotte sighed, sounding more exhausted than an 85-year-old woman. “I wait for you to come every week, Lady Elizabeth.”
Lord Linfield moved towards Bess and Charlotte, his smile broadening as he approached. “What on earth have I found here?” he asked.
