Chapter Twelve

25 Curzon Street, Mayfair

London

The next morning

L izzie placed her hands on her hips and took a step back to admire the transformation of the small classroom before her. Excitement bubbled up within her. Simon would soon arrive for his first lesson. Lady Beadle's equally unwavering enthusiasm for the boy had brought a smile to her face. It was the dowager's idea to convert one of the spare upper rooms—likely originally intended as a nursery—into a cozy classroom suitable for two boys.

With Reggie's assistance, they had painted the walls a cheerful, pale yellow, hung matching curtains on the window, and laid down a rug with a pleasant blue and yellow pattern, accented by subtle streaks of pale reds and browns. The room was warm and inviting.

"You mentioned that Simon has a younger brother," Lady Beadle had said. "We shall need the extra room when Sin finds him—and I have the utmost confidence in my nephew's abilities. I want the young man to know that education is important." She insisted the room be outfitted appropriately, and had made certain a large chalkboard was installed to take up most of one wall. She'd also ordered enough supplies for an entire school, along with reading primers and two children's desks, along with a desk for Lizzie.

Millie had also insisted on purchasing clothing for Simon, despite Edward having informed them that Mrs. Jones would take care of that. "I believe the boy will need a few extra items—in case my nephew wants to take him to church."

There was no talking her out of it.

Lizzie chuckled as she made her way downstairs to the parlor. She was certain Simon would not leave Josie at Edward's and recalled her earlier conversation with Lady Beadle about the dog.

"We cannot have the dog running loose and chasing the cats while young Simon is here—how will he be able to learn his letters and sums if he must constantly chase after the dog? I will think of a solution."

And she had. Lady Beadle had conceived of a clever idea to keep the pup both contained and comfortable at the same time. She'd instructed Reggie and Thomas to build a large crate for the dog—painted yellow, of course—while the housekeeper and a maid sewed a plump pillow for Josie to nap on, along with several chew toys from scraps of cloth to keep her engaged while Simon was having his lessons.

The crate Lady Beadle had ordered was perfect, and Lizzie couldn't imagine Josie not loving her new space. She smiled as she remembered her employer's enthusiastic applause when she beheld the completed crate.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jenkins's stepping into the parlor.

"My lady and Mrs. Pritchett," he announced. "Master Simon and, er, Miss Josie have arrived. The puppy is leashed."

Lady Beadle stood. "Excellent! Show the boy in. But please have Reggie attend us."

Jenkins cleared his throat. "What about Miss Josie, the dog , my lady?" the butler asked in a whisper, eyeing his mistress's three cats, who had all raised their heads.

Lizzie could have sworn it was the word dog that had drawn their attention.

Before they could address the butler's concerns, Simon walked into the parlor, with Josie trotting beside him. "Good morning, milady. Good morning, Mrs. Pritchett. I have a new leash for Josie."

Lady Beadle leaned forward on her cane. "I see you have, Simon. And it matches that smart red collar, too."

"She likes to go on walks," Simon explained.

"Excellent idea!" exclaimed Lady Beadle. "Reggie, please make sure to escort Josie to the mews to allow her to attend to her, er, personal business, while Simon is having his lessons."

Simon giggled as Reggie entered the room at the mention of his name. "That's what Mrs. Jones says when Josie has to pee and poo!" the boy said.

Lady Beadle turned to Lizzie and gave a wry smile. "I believe you will have several good lessons to impart to this handsome lad."

Reggie reached for the leash as Josie wagged her tail excitedly. At the same time, Athena leaped down from the back of the settee. She arched her back and hissed, then whirled, scaling to the top of the window valance.

Oh dear , thought Lizzie. The cat was clearly outraged at Josie's presence.

Venus, usually a placid cat, emerged from the corner where she had been watching warily. She arched her back, puffed up her fur, and hissed as well. The cat's ears flattened against her head, and her tail became noticeably bushy.

Meanwhile, Zeus, who was sleeping on the other end of the sofa, lifted his head, sniffed, settled back down, and promptly fell asleep—oddly unperturbed by the dog's presence.

Josie jerked her leash loose from Reggie's grip and bowed her front legs in Venus's direction.

"Milady, Josie wants to play with your cat," Simon said, stepping forward. Venus, however, flew across the room and out the parlor door. The puppy bounded after the frightened cat, clearly mistaking her fear for fun, happily barking.

Reggie ran after the dog, followed by Simon.

"Oh goodness!" Lady Beadle said, wearing a look of horror. She rose from the settee and rushed after them, thudding her cane on the floor.

Lizzie followed but stopped when she heard the clanging and banging of pots and pans, followed by Cook's scream. The chaos had moved to the kitchen. She entered the room to pandemonium. Cook was on the floor, cake batter dripping down her face. The broken crock had landed next to her. The cat was on the worktable, directing a withering glare at everyone before leaping down and scurrying away. Meanwhile, Josie was enthusiastically lapping up the cake batter that had puddled on the floor.

Reggie and Jenkins helped the stout woman stand as Lizzie took a clean cloth, dampened it with fresh water, and proceeded to wipe the batter off the poor woman's face and smock.

"Come on, Josie," Simon said, leaning down and picking up the leash, gently tugging Josie away from the unexpected treat. "I'm ever so sorry, Lady Beadle." His shoulders quaked and his bottom lip trembled.

"My dear boy," Lady Beadle began. With her chest still heaving from exertion, she sat in the chair closest to her. "This isn't the worst thing that could have happened. The animals are fine, and Cook can make more batter. How is dear Cook, by the way?" she asked over her shoulder.

"She'll be right as rain," Lizzie said, handing Cook a dry cloth.

"Very good. Cook is made of stern stuff, she is." Lady Beadle turned back to Simon and waved him toward her. "Simon, dear, please don't fret. Many successes begin with small mishaps. Josie is like a child and must be taught how to behave. We shall all endeavor to help you in this process. In the meantime, what do you say we allow Reggie to take Josie for a brisk walk? Then she'll be ready for a nap, I'll wager."

"G-good idea, milady," Simon agreed. His slumping shoulders straightened.

"Wonderful. I am so pleased to have you here," Lady Beadle exclaimed, patting him on the head. "As soon as we check on the kitties, what do you say we take a short excursion to a few shops? There are a few things that I think you will need."

"Y-you want to buy me stuff?" Simon said, his eyes wide.

"Well…of course! We thought you might like a few things to wear to places like church," Lady Beadle offered gently.

"Ain't never been to church, 'cept to clean the chimney. And that weren't no fun," Simon said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Our church does not need for you to clean the chimney. And I can assure you that you will not be sweeping any more chimneys," Lady Beadle said with a firm nod. "The only requirement is that you listen to a fine sermon every Sunday and perhaps participate in the children's nativity play at Christmas. But that won't be for a while yet."

"But won't Josie and I be learning lessons today?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," she said.

"I'll take you upstairs to the classroom, Simon," Lizzie said, reaching for his hand. "Lady Beadle wants to make sure it has everything you need. After a brief first lesson, we shall go into town."

"But don't I need to get back to Lord Sinclair's house?"

"Today, you will spend the entire day with us, and join us for tea," Lady Beadle said.

"That sounds like fun!"

"And we already spoke with Mr. Kingsley," Lizzie added. "He said to take your time today. So that we can all become better acquainted."

"He's a right nice man, if ye ask me," Simon said.

"Er…yes. I believe he is very good friends with our butler, Mr. Jenkins, isn't he, Jenkins?" Lady Beadle turned to the butler.

"Indeed, my lady," Jenkins agreed.

"Very good. Now off with you, young Simon—enjoy your lesson with Lizzie."

Lizzie hid a smile as she led a bemused Simon away. Oh, what a story she would share with Edward when he returned. Her heart swelled as she pictured him throwing his head back with laughter at the antics of Josie and the cats. She hoped, wherever he was, that he was safe. She was eager to see him again, eager to spend time with him. And she hoped that by the time he returned, he would have some information about her brother.

Wide-eyed, Simon looked around the classroom. "Is all this for me?"

"Lady Beadle was very enthusiastic in her efforts to set up a suitable classroom for you and"—Lizzie pointed to the second desk—"your brother."

"You people have been nicer to me than anyone in my life."

"Simon, you are a good boy and very deserving of a chance in life. Lady Beadle and Lord Sinclair want you to have that chance."

"I'm not going to let you down—not any of you," he said, swiping at a lone tear.

An hour later, following a brief lesson on writing his name—a skill Simon was eager to acquire—they set off for town, bound for the tailor and milliner.

Simon, who sat across from Lizzie and Lady Beadle, his back straight and his hands on his knees, leaned forward slightly and confessed, "I'm not accustomed to riding inside carriages, milady."

"What do you mean?" Lady Beadle inquired, her curiosity piqued. "Were carriages a rare sight in your previous life?"

Simon shook his head. "Not exactly. But I've never been in one. I was supposed to ride in a carriage…once. The Man, he was in charge of us boys. He took those of us too big for chimney sweeping to a town far away. Promised we'd meet pirates. But there were none." His expression soured at the disappointment.

Lizzie's heart ached as she imagined the hardship this child had suffered. "Children have no control over their fate," she murmured.

"The first day in that town, they had us dig a tunnel, even as water flooded in," Simon continued. "None of us could swim. It was so slippery that it was hard to stand. One day, I escaped by hiding in the tinker's cart."

"Do you remember the name of the town?" Lizzie inquired.

"No. But we slept in a barn behind a public house called the Eagle's Claw. The owner's wife was kind to us and gave us extra food when her husband weren't looking," Simon recalled.

"Thank goodness you managed to escape," Lady Beadle said.

"Did you find Josie in that same town?" Lizzie asked.

"No, ma'am. I found Josie in another town. By then, the tinker had seen me, but he were nice and said he'd take me to London. Some boys were tormenting her outside an inn. I snatched her away. Lucky thing, the tinker was finishing up his ale inside. I snuck Josie into his cart and off we went." Simon's infectious giggle made Lizzie smile.

He was such an adorable child. Even after everything he'd gone through, he was sweet and possessed a big heart. Simon reminded her so much of Michael when he was a boy.

Lizzie blinked back sudden tears at the memory of her brother. She hadn't seen him in more than six years and wondered what he looked like, if war had changed him. She hoped not. Michael had been her hero growing up. He was five years older than her, and she had always looked up to him. "Josie is indeed special. Like family," she said in a soft voice.

Simon nodded. "My only family, besides my little brother Bobby. Only I don't know where Bobby is no more. No one can make me laugh like Bobby."

"Well, Lord Sinclair plans to help you find him," Lady Beadle said.

"You think he will do that? For me?"

"Of course he will. He will do his best," Lizzie said, her heart wrenching for the missing boy. Surely Edward, with all his connections, would be able to find him. Bobby and Michael. If the past five years had taught her anything, it was never to lose hope. After all, it had been Michael who made it possible for her to meet Lord and Lady Armstrong, secure employment with Lady Beadle, and then meet Edward again.

"We'll talk about it when Edward returns," Lady Beadle added, echoing Lizzie's thoughts.

"Oh, Lady Beadle, I ain't never met no one so good as you."

She cleared her throat. "Well now, perhaps you could call me Aunt Millie," she suggested gently. "Aunts are family too."

Simon's face lit up. "I never had no aunt before. I bet Josie would love it too."

Lady Beadle chuckled. "I'm sure, although we'll have to work on helping Josie and the cats get along. And what about riding inside the carriage?"

The young boy leaned back against the leather squabs and smiled. "I think me and Josie like it. There's no hay in our hair and it doesn't smell like paint and other things the tinker carries in his cart."

They entered town and the traffic picked up, forcing the carriage to slow. A few minutes later, it came to a stop next to a row of shops in Mayfair.

"I know this won't be as exciting as visiting a sweet shop, but you might be just as pleased with the outcome," Lady Beadle said as Reggie helped her alight from the carriage.

Simon's eyes lit up, and a smile spread across his face as they approached a tan brick shop. The name, Swagger & Stitch, was painted on a jaunty sign above the door. "You're taking me to a real tailor?" he asked eagerly.

"What other kind is there?" Lady Beadle's eyes twinkled. "And he'll measure you for breeches, jackets, some nice cotton shirts, shoes, and a lovely coat. Perhaps we'll even find some ready-made clothes in your size."

Simon's grin widened, his excitement palpable. "I can't believe I'm getting new clothes. I've never had anything new in my life."

Lizzie felt a warm tug at her heart. She reached out, gently squeezing Simon's shoulder, and offered him an understanding smile. She knew the feeling well—the joy of something new and unexpected. Memories of her mother stitching together clothes from scraps flooded her mind. Or when an older woman who lived near her cabin in Boston helped her clear a small swath of land behind her cabin and gave her seeds and instructions to plant a vegetable garden. She'd also taught Lizzie a few recipes that Peter had loved. When she'd agreed to marry him, her skills were very limited. It thrilled her to show him what she had done. When she became a widow, gardening and sewing were essential to her survival.

Simon ducked his head and swiped the back of his shirt across his eyes. "I wish I'd always had an aunt like you. I wish we could find Bobby so he can have an aunt, too."

"You sweet boy," Lady Beadle murmured.

The doorbell jangled as they entered the shop and were greeted by the proprietor, Mr. Finley Sewell, a tall, slender man with a balding pate and kind blue eyes. "Lady Beadle and Mrs. Pritchett, how nice to see you again." He turned to smile at Simon. "And who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"Mr. Sewell, allow me to introduce Simon, my nephew. He will require everything for a young boy, of course—breeches, shirts, vests, coats, etc. And if you have any ready-made pieces, so much the better."

Mr. Sewell's eyes twinkled. "Mr. Simon, if you will allow me to take your measurements, we have several handsome ensembles that can quickly be altered to the necessary specifications."

Two hours later, the bell rang again as the small shopping contingent exited Swagger & Stitch. Simon wore one of his four new outfits. He and Reggie placed several packages in the boot of the carriage.

"That was so much fun. Mr. Sewell promised to deliver the other two outfits to us in a couple of days," Lady Beadle declared, rubbing her gloved hands together. "But now I feel in need of a slight pick-me-up. Does anyone besides myself crave a hot cup of tea? Mayfair's Sweet Shoppe is two doors down, and the aroma has beckoned me since our carriage stopped. They've made quite a name for themselves with their delicious sticky buns."

They entered the shop, ordered, sat back, and waited for their drinks. Lizzie noticed Simon staring out the window, his eyes riveted to something, or someone, across the street. "What is it, Simon?"

"It's the Man ."

"The Man?" Lizzie asked.

"That's what he's called by all of us boys who have to work for 'im." The boy shivered. "He's standing there and staring at the shop."

"You worked for him?" Lizzie asked.

"I don't know his name, but that's the man who made me clean chimneys and sent me to dig the tunnels," the boy said tremulously. "And he's the man who has Bobby."

Lizzie looked out, waiting for a carriage to rumble past so she could describe the horrid man to Edward. Recognition shot through her, and she gasped, accidentally knocking the silverware to the floor.

"Who is it, my dear? You look like you've seen a ghost," Lady Beadle said, turning to see for herself.

"L-Lord Percival Blackwood," Lizzie whispered.