Page 17 of How To Woo A Wallflower

Chapter Eight

It took Hattie less than half an hour to have Izzy eating out of her hand and now she was holding it as all three of them were sat in the privacy of his carriage on the way to Covent Garden. His guest had protested in every possible manner that he did not need to escort her back to the infirmary, stating she was quite capable of getting there on her own and that she had ‘inconvenienced him long enough’ with her impromptu visit.

But when she stood and strode to the door at such speed and with such determination that he almost missed the flinch of pain which briefly marred her features, and the way her step faltered as she forced her damaged limb to work, Jasper had put his foot down. It was odd, but in the three days of their short reacquaintance, he already understood enough about her to know that her fierce pride made her mask those things to the detriment of all else. Things which she saw as weaknesses even though those things were also testament to her phenomenal strength. He knew too that she did not want to be pitied and would swat away any perceived offers of help just as ruthlessly as she would an annoying fly. He had also just discovered that she talked incessantly when she was nervous, and he found that rather charming.

‘There is every need.’ Although common sense told him that the feisty Hattie would require it to be justified in a more acceptable way than his overwhelming need to see her safe. Or eke out more time with her. Or more likely both. ‘I might not be much of one, but the code of the gentleman dictates that he has to escort a lady to where she needs to be or be marked a cad. Besides,’ he allowed his own mask to slip enough so that every bit of his hangover showed, ‘thanks to my unfortunate liaison with the brandy I am in grave need of some fresh air myself and as I promised to take Izzy shopping in Holborn it also kills two birds with one stone as your destination is en route.’

Only a tiny part of his insistence was to ensure her safety on this bright spring Tuesday when the risks to her person were minimal; the rest was entirely selfish. He wanted to be with her. Wanted to distract himself with her delightful company a little longer.

Her concern had touched him immensely too, and there was no doubting she was concerned for him as she had fussed over them both all morning. She might not have asked outright with words how he was feeling or coping—she was too sensitive to intrude on his grief—but her deep and sincere compassion for his situation was plain to see in her eyes which were refreshingly useless at hiding the truth.

He liked that about her. Where so many would be judgemental, Hattie had been nothing but kind. Especially to Izzy, who through no fault of her own was a scandal waiting to happen. Yet irrespective of the smudge such an acquaintance would make on her own reputation, Hattie had waded in and in her own unique and sometimes babbling, sometimes no-nonsense way.

‘Two trips to the infirmary in three days.’ In tacit agreement they had avoided conversation about his situation in front of Izzy. ‘I had no idea Dr Cribbs was such a hard taskmaster. Are you always there so frequently?’

She smiled at him over Izzy’s head. ‘Usually, I try to volunteer a couple of times a week, but Dr Cribbs has a new patient of particular concern whom he has asked me to work with. A boy called Jim who isn’t doing so well.’ She patted her leg again by way of explanation. ‘He broke both his legs when a cart overturned...’ There was that compassion again, written as plain as day on her pretty face, announcing, unbeknownst to her that her desire to help others was an intrinsic part of who she was rather than the odd piece of benevolence she did when the mood struck her.

‘Like me, the bones were initially set badly and one leg in particular isn’t healing correctly. And exactly like me, he will likely not be able to use it unless the damage is corrected. But unlike me, he doesn’t have anyone supporting him or even prepared to wait for him to heal. Injured, he is unable to work, and in his world that makes him more than useless to everyone around him—it makes him a burden.’

‘How so?’

‘I haven’t got to the bottom of his particular circumstances yet as I have only met him once and he wasn’t in the mood for talking, but already I know he will be a tough nut to crack. He is only ten, or thereabouts, in body at least. However, his miserable experiences of life have meant an old and wary head now rests on those young shoulders. I do know his parents are gone.’ She mouthed that last word in case Izzy overheard. ‘Although I have no clue whether that came by way of bereavement or abandonment. After that, from what I can gather, he has been passed from pillar to post for the last couple of years. After his grandmother died, he was taken in briefly by an aunt, and then most recently by an uncle. In return for that imposition, he had to pay for his board by working in a timber yard by day, loading their carts, and in a tavern by night, hauling barrels.’

‘He worked two jobs?’ That did not bear thinking about. ‘The poor boy.’

‘And all those hours for a paltry four and a half shillings a week. Thanks to that greedy uncle who believed it was his due, Jim never saw a farthing of those wages.’ Suppressed rage at that hardened her blue eyes to ice crystals. ‘But such unjust atrocities are par for the course among those considered too poor and too young to warrant a voice. Jim was unceremoniously cast out of the man’s house and deposited with the church within a day of his accident. They gave him sanctuary for a night but were eager to wash their hands of him too so took him immediately to the Cleveland Street workhouse. As he was in no fit state to be any use there and they were already stuffed to the rafters with, as they put it, “infirm paupers who are no good to anyone”, after a month they contacted Dr Cribbs and have made it plain they do not want the child back unless he is fixed enough that he can take care of himself.’

Proof if proof were needed that there was always somebody worse off than you, which was a sobering thought after Jasper had pickled himself in spirits last night because he had felt sorry for himself. ‘Can the good doctor fix him?’

She huffed out a frustrated breath. ‘Maybe...up to a point. The quack who set the bones misaligned the shin bone in his right leg and it will need to be rebroken and reset if he is to have any chance of walking without crutches again, and such an extreme and unpleasant intervention has its own risks and complications.’ Unwittingly, she rubbed her own leg, myriad complex emotions skittering across her features before she ruthlessly banished them all with a smile which did not quite touch her eyes. A window into the ordeal of her own recovery. ‘Nobody can guarantee its success and the poor boy will have to endure months more suffering on top of what he already has in the last few weeks. It is for the best, of course, to allow Dr Cribbs to try, but the decision has to be Jim’s. My current job is to convince him of the need before the bone sets fast.’

‘If there is some hope, why does he resist?’ Jasper couldn’t understand it. ‘I mean, look at how the doctor helped you.’ Was it still wrong for him to reference her injury despite her openness about it? ‘If I interpreted Freddie’s frequent appraisals correctly while you were convalescing, there was some doubt in the beginning as to whether you would be able to walk again and now there is no doubt that you can.’ Even the pronounced limp did not seem to pain her once her muscles had warmed up. Freddie had done her a disservice in intimating otherwise. His letters had stated Hattie was still as fragile as glass, when the woman beside him was anything but. ‘No wonder Dr Cribbs holds you up as a role model for others. You are almost as good as new.’ Why the blazes had he felt compelled to add the almost?

If his slightly tactless final comment offended her, she hid it well to ponder her patient. ‘But I had the boisterous encouragement and love of a family behind me, along with wealth and privilege. I was never alone like little Jim is. Neither have I been let down or abandoned by everyone I know. I have no idea how it feels to have all hope dashed at every turn, or any concept of how hard his life has been. Right now, he is wallowing at the very bottom of the pit of despair and sees no reason to claw himself out. He has given up on the world and that breaks my heart. Any invasive treatment now might be catastrophic if he doesn’t have the will to get better.’

She rapped on the ceiling of the carriage at the corner of Long Acre to make the driver pull over. ‘But enough about that.’ She offered him an apologetic smile. ‘As much as I have already flown in the face of propriety, I fear I shall set the tongues wagging if I allow you to accompany me all the way to the infirmary.’

‘Of course.’ Jasper tried not to allow his disappointment to show. ‘Thank you for visiting. It was very thoughtful of you. And thank you again for last night.’

She waved that away as she bent to stroke Izzy’s hair. ‘It was lovely to meet you, Izzy.’

‘Will you visit me and my papa again, Hattie?’

Jasper wanted to ask much the same but didn’t, because such an improper request would be unfair to Hattie who was too good-natured and kind to refuse. Instead, he smiled and came to her rescue, not wanting her to feel beholden to him either. ‘I am sure we shall all collide again some time soon.’

‘Good day, Izzy.’ Hattie touched the tip of her little nose, then did the same to her doll. ‘Good day to you too, Mabel.’ She straightened and those lovely, empathic eyes locked with his. ‘Take care, Jasper.’ Then without looking back, she exited the carriage and hurried across the road and, much too soon, disappeared from his view.

‘Are you taken for this dance, Lady Anne?’ The third besotted gentleman in a row edged towards Hattie’s sister as the pair of them perused the refreshment table. Lord Pickering was a handsome devil and knew it. He was also one of the gentlemen her twin had had her eye on. ‘For if you are not...’

‘She’s not,’ said Hattie before a beholden Annie felt obliged to turn him down for her sister’s sake as she already had with two others. Just because Hattie couldn’t dance didn’t mean she expected her sister to sit with her in the wallflower chairs as she had loyally declared she would for the first half an hour to ‘soak in the atmosphere’.

Then, no doubt, it would be Kitty’s turn to pretend her feet were aching, or some other far-fetched nonsense, to justify her shift as nursemaid. Followed, in whatever order her interfering brother had prearranged behind her back, by him and Dorothea. And all because she had begged him to stop cajoling reluctant friends and acquaintances her way and declared Lady Bulphan’s ball would be her last foray out this Season if he did.

‘My sister would be delighted to dance this dance with you. In fact...’ she offered her glaring twin a sickly smile which told her in no uncertain terms that Hattie wasn’t the least bit fooled by the family’s flimsy charade ‘...if you are quick, I also happen to know that she has kept the first waltz free, too, as well as all six dances in between.’ She announced this at a louder volume on purpose to attract the attention of all the other eligible young men milling about, and like obedient hunting hounds summoned by a bugle, they instantly turned to stare, intrigued. Then, one by one, all clamoured around Annie to claim one of the free dances.

While her sister was surrounded, Hattie poured herself some punch and dissolved into the crowd, taking a convoluted route to the wallflower chairs in case her suffocating brother noticed she was all alone. She nodded to the four other wallflowers in greeting but chose a seat at the back, in the middle of a row because she could use a strategic pillar as camouflage and settled in for the duration.

As she drained the last drops of her punch, another glass appeared over her shoulder. ‘Thought I might find you here.’

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