Chapter Fourteen

25 Curzon Street, Mayfair

London

The next day

"G ood morning, Mrs. Pritchett," Simon said, taking one of the seats and withdrawing his small chalkboard.

"Good morning, Simon. Are we ready to learn?" Lizzie asked.

"Yes, ma'am!" the young boy said, thumbing through the supplies at his desk. "I even have books! I ain't never owned a book."

"You have never owned a book," Lizzie corrected him.

"No, never!" he responded enthusiastically.

Lizzie laughed. "Simon, when I said you have never owned a book, I wasn't agreeing with you. I was correcting how you said it—as an example of the correct way to say it. You are living in the home of a baron and must learn to speak properly."

Simon cocked his head and stared at her. "But did you understand what I said?" he asked.

"I did," she replied.

"Then wouldn't that mean I said it correctly?"

Now it was her turn to cock her head. Her lips twitched at his clever retort. He was such a bright boy, but he had also never had the opportunity for an education, so she would have to clarify the reasons why they said or wrote something a certain way. She recalled when she and her brother were growing up, Michael had an informal way of speaking with his friends that was different from the proper way of speaking to their father or with other adults. She explained her theory to Simon, and his eyes widened in comprehension.

"Therefore, if you are speaking to Baron Sinclair, for example, you would speak to him in the proper way as I have just described," she added. "If I correct some of the more blatant errors, my hope is you will learn to rephrase and speak them correctly."

"I think I understand, Miss Lizzie," he replied. "I'm supposed to pay 'tention to what you are sayin' to me so I will learn to pronounce the words correctly. I will talk proper-like with grownups like you and the baron, but maybe with Josie I can talk regular-like."

Josie gave a soft woof from her crate as though in agreement.

Lizzie threw back her head and laughed. "Yes, I think that would be fine, and I'm sure Josie would appreciate that."

"But what if I forget? Will I get in trouble? Seems like there are a lot of rules in Proper Society."

"I promise, you won't be in trouble if you make a mistake. One of the ways we learn is from our mistakes." Lizzie understood all too well how stuffy and judgmental ton Society could be. "I have an idea that will help you remember…by using repetition ."

" Repe —who? I don't know him," he said, smiling up at her with a mischievous twinkle.

Understanding dawned, and Lizzie chuckled again. Simon was such an adorable child. "I have a feeling that tutoring you will teach me a few things too."

"I have some big plans after I'm done learnin'," he said with a sly smile.

"After you're finished learning ," she emphasized. "Remember that speaking properly means saying the complete word. So instead of learnin' , we say learning ."

"Learn-ing," Simon repeated.

"Very good. Now, I'd like to begin with the vowels—what they are and how to pronounce them," she said. "That will make it easier when we move into spelling. We'll start with letters that are vowels, and then we'll move to the rest of the alphabet." Lizzie had written the vowels on the large slate board before the lesson. She picked up her pointer and tapped each vowel, saying it aloud and asking Simon to repeat it.

Josie barked from her crate, drawing their attention once more.

"Josie says she likes her new bed," Simon offered.

"She does appear to enjoy the space," Lizzie observed. The dog was stretched out behind the door to the crate. "I declare! She seems to be growing. We'll have to get her a bigger crate soon."

"Yes, ma'am. Since she's been eating regular-like, she's been getting bigger," Simon agreed.

"She's likely to be a big dog, judging from the size of those paws," Lizzie murmured. "Has Kingsley said anything about her sleeping in your room?"

"He likes Josie. She follows him 'round, 'specially when she gets tired of sleeping while I'm doin'— doing chores."

Lizzie nodded at his self-correction and hid a smile over his other speaking errors. It would take time, but Simon was bright and clever, and most of all, he seemed to love learning. "What does Mr. Kingsley think about Josie following him around?" Lizzie asked. She couldn't imagine the efficient and practical Kingsley feeling comfortable with a pup dogging his every step, but it seemed one never knew.

"I think he likes it. He reaches in his pocket and gives her a treat when he thinks no one is looking," Simon said with a grin.

"Does Mr. Kingsley know you found out his secret?" she asked, arching an eyebrow in amusement. She would enjoy sharing this tidbit with Edward as well.

"I don't think so. He had his back to me. When I saw him do it, I had to watch 'im again to be sure I saw what I thought I saw. And another thing… Lord Sinclair's cook is making the treats for him."

A smile stretched across her face. "I see that you and Josie are gaining ground in both houses, it seems."

"What does that mean, Miss Lizzie?"

"It means we are all becoming attached to you and Josie. Honestly, Lady Beadle was thrilled when she saw this crate and its beautiful bed."

"After Josie chased that cat yesterday, I thought we'd never be allowed to come back," Simon said, glancing down and plucking a thread on his new breeches. "But Lady Beadle told me she looked forward to seeing me again."

"I'm glad to hear it," Lizzie said, knowing Lady Beadle was already very fond of Simon. It was hard not to love the little boy—he was all heart. "I'm certain that in time we'll figure out how to make peace between the cats and Josie."

"I'll make sure to teach Josie everything I learn."

"I would like you to practice the vowels for one hour before bedtime. Remember, practice makes perfect . That way, we can start to learn to spell and write your name sooner." She reached down and unhinged Josie's cage.

"Josie, stay," Simon commanded. The dog came to his side and sat. "She didn't hurt the cat, but I'm sure she scared her."

"Yes, dear. Venus is dear to Lady Beadle's heart. You will need to demonstrate control over your puppy. She has a great deal of energy and can cause havoc when she gets loose. My suggestion is you keep her on a leash while she is in the house until you have total control," Lizzie advised.

"Practice makes perfect," Simon repeated. "I like that, Miss Lizzie. I promise I will practice every night."

"Very good, Simon."

Simon packed up his reader and his slate and secured them with a leather strap. She recalled her brother had used one of those with his books years ago. "Where did you get that?"

"Kingsley gave it to me. Said it were his when he was my age. He thought it might be useful," Simon explained.

"He said it was his," Lizzie corrected her.

Simon opened his mouth to give a rejoinder but closed it and smiled. "You are correcting me, right?"

Lizzie smiled. "You are catching on. Eventually, it will become second nature."

"I'm not sure what that means, but I hope learning will become easier," Simon said. "I'm gonna try real hard, Miss Lizzie." He snapped the leash on Josie and pulled her close to him.

"I know you will," she said.

"Shall we see you tomorrow, Simon?" Jenkins asked.

"Yes, sir. I'll be here." The young boy tapped the bundle hanging over his shoulder. "I've got a lot to learn."

"Very good," Jenkins said with a nod.

Lizzie accompanied Simon and Josie to the waiting carriage that would convey the boy and his pup back to Edward's townhouse. "I'll see you again tomorrow, Simon. Have a good afternoon."

"Thank you, Miss Lizzie." Simon hesitated, and then he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Lizzie. "I'm so happy you're teaching me things."

Lizzie blinked back tears as she hugged him back. "I'm so happy too," she said, her voice thick with emotion.

She watched the carriage drive away, breathing a deep sigh as the truth dawned on her—she was happy. She hadn't been this happy in a long time. She was so thankful for all the good and kind people who were now in her life. Once more she vowed to speak to Edward, when he returned, about finding Bobby and Michael. Yes, it would be a challenging task, but if anyone could accomplish it, Edward could.

*

"Lady Beadle is in the dining room, Mrs. Pritchett. She wishes to serve luncheon once you have finished the boy's lessons."

"Thank you, Jenkins," Lizzie replied. "Please let Cook know we are finished for the day."

"Outstanding, Mrs. Pritchett." Jenkins gave a quick bow and left the room.

Lizzie walked into the dining room and found it empty. As she waited for Lady Beadle, she wandered to the window and peeked out from behind the curtain. She'd found herself doing that constantly since seeing Blackwood staring into the house from across the street, and after their excursion to the tailor's, when Simon spotted "the Man." Lady Beadle had wanted to storm out of the Sweet Shoppe to give Blackwood a piece of her mind. But Lizzie had convinced her otherwise. Simon had been frightened enough, and she did not want to add to his fear. Yet she would have sworn it was she that Blackwood was watching, not Simon.

Even so, they'd escorted the boy back to Edward's townhouse, spoken with Kingsley, and explained what had transpired.

"Do not let this child out from under your watchful eye," Lady Beadle had told the butler.

"I promise we will watch over Simon and Josie with the utmost care," he'd replied. "I will speak with the entire staff and inform them of the gravity of the situation. If we see the blackguard lurking, we will send word."

Lizzie trusted Edward's staff. They were used to their master's dangerous assignments and were mindful of the safety and security of his home.

She scanned the environs once more and then, heaving a deep sigh, let the curtain fall back. Like most days, she saw no one. But the man she saw watching Lady Beadle's house days ago had not been a figment of her imagination, as she had initially tried to convince herself. It had been Lord Blackwood. And the frightening man had been watching Lady Beadle's dining room window. He'd been watching her .

Was he watching her even now, from somewhere she couldn't see? Lord Blackwood had been watching her while they shopped in town yesterday, but why? And how would he know they would be in town shopping unless he'd followed them? A shiver skittered up her spine as she realized the strange man must have been watching the house longer than she'd initially suspected.

Edward had wanted her to have a male escort whenever she left the house, and she promised she would. But even with Reggie in attendance yesterday, the man had boldly stared at her from across the street. But what had truly set off her alarm bells was what Simon had told her about Blackwood. The child had called Lord Blackwood the Man and asserted he was the one who'd made him and Bobby, and countless other little boys, work in the chimneys. Blackwood was the man Simon had escaped from. The reason why he'd been living out of a crate behind Gunter's the day they found him. Simon had been afraid of the Man, but it didn't appear that he thought he would be recognized. Were there so many children that the Man wouldn't know one from another?

She shuddered. Edward had only been away four or five days, but it seemed like weeks. Lizzie felt watched every time she went out—even when she walked in the garden, with Reggie just a few feet away, she'd begun to feel a terrible dread, like an ominous, dark cloud was hovering over her. Not even as a widow, living alone in Boston with armies battling miles from her home, had she felt this fearful, as though the devil himself were stalking her. Edward was the only one who made her feel safe.

"I will see Lady Beadle gets this right away," she heard Jenkins say, closing the door downstairs.

A messenger? What if it is bad news? Oh God! Her heart began to pound. Calm down! The missive wasn't for her—it was for Lady Beadle, who had all sorts of engagements and friends in the ton .

"What is it, my dear? You look stricken," her employer said.

Lizzie took a deep breath to ease the constriction in her throat. "A message came for you. It just reminded me that I've heard nothing from Michael."

"My lady, a missive just arrived for you," Jenkins said, stepping into the dining room and handing the note to Lady Beadle.

She arched a brow. "Don't be such a worrywart, dear—it will give you premature wrinkles. It's probably a message about an upcoming social gathering. You know they come at all hours."

"Yes, of course you're right."

"As it happens, it looks to be from Celia. I recognize her handwriting," Lady Beadle said as they took their seats at the dining table. Breaking the seal, she scanned the note. "Celia is asking us to have tea with her this afternoon. At three. She says it's important."

"Are you going to reply?"

"Yes, my dear. It's most unusual…I will admit to that. But that doesn't necessarily mean something bad." Lizzie saw a flicker of worry cross Lady Beadle's expression. "Perhaps she's finally told William about the baby and wants to talk to us about planning the nursery." She chuckled. "Now, that will be a pleasant diversion! I'll send a footman straight away to tell her we will be there."

"Yes, that would be pleasant indeed," Lizzie said, schooling her features into a smile. And yet she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong.

*

Lizzie and Lady Beadle arrived at the Armstrongs' promptly at three. Lizzie had managed to calm her nerves, trying to convince herself that they were there to celebrate an official birth announcement. But the two faces that met them in the parlor looked subdued. As Lizzie and Lady Beadle took their seats, the door opened and a maid entered, pushing a small silver tea cart.

"William, Celia, is something wrong?" Lady Beadle asked. "I confess, I expect happier faces when news of a little one is announced."

Lord Armstrong looked questioningly at his wife, who shook her head and shrugged slightly.

Lizzie bit back a smile as she watched Lady Beadle observing her niece with shrewd eyes.

Lord Armstrong drew a deep breath. "I'm afraid this isn't the best news."

At once, Lizzie's stomach clenched.

"We received an urgent message from Lady Bethany Romney earlier," he began. "It seems she had an unexpected visit from Lord Wright and Sin. They have your brother with him."

Lizzie gasped. "Is Michael… Is he all right? Is he—is he dead?" She had had the persistent feeling that he needed her.

"No, Lizzie, dear. Michael is not dead," Lady Armstrong said, moving to sit next to Lizzie and squeezing her hand. "He is injured. And it is very serious." She handed a sealed missive to Lizzie. "This note arrived with the message for William and me."

With trembling hands, Lizzie turned over the message before opening it. Then she began to read.

Dear Mrs. Pritchett,

Minutes ago, we received notice that Lord Sinclair and Lord Wright will be arriving shortly with your brother, Captain Michael Robinson. First, please let me reassure you that your brother is alive, but according to what my husband and I have been informed, he has been badly injured and maintains a significant fever.

I cannot tell you more at this time. But rest assured, we will give him the best care possible.

I know how I would feel if a family member of mine were missing or injured, which is why I took the opportunity to write to you before Lord Sinclair, Lord Wright, and Captain Robinson arrive.

I extend an invitation to you and Lord and Lady Armstrong. Lord Armstrong is quite familiar with the location of Graceview Manor, and I am certain he can convey you here within two days.

Graceview is but a few miles inland from the coast of Kent, near the town of Folkestone. It is a lovely area. I only wish your visit was under better circumstances.

Sincerely,

Lady Bethany Romney

"It was thoughtful of her to write us about your brother. I'm sure Sin didn't find out until after the letters were sent," Lady Beadle said. She arched a brow. "You know how secretive he can be." Looking at Lizzie, she asked, "What do you want to do?"

Beads of sweat formed above Lizzie's brow. Michael was injured. Something had happened to him, just as she'd feared. "I must go to him at once. I will hire a carriage."

"Nonsense. We would never let you take that trip alone. I will go with you. We shall take two footmen to assist us."

"Anticipating your answer, we have readied a carriage and hired outriders," Lord Armstrong said. "We have a two-day trip ahead of us. We cannot chance traveling without them."

"That was very thoughtful," Lady Beadle said. "Your carriage will be far more comfortable than mine for such a trip."

Lizzie turned to her. "You plan to go with me?"

"Of course! I have no intention of letting you travel alone. And I'm certainly not staying home twiddling my thumbs."

"And I have no intention of allowing you ladies to travel alone—certain stretches of the thoroughfare are notorious for highwaymen. I will accompany you," Lord Armstrong added.

Lizzie trembled at the mention of highwaymen.

"I've also sent ahead to secure rooms for us at an inn halfway there. We'll set out first thing in the morning," the viscount said.

"William, that would be most appreciated," Lady Beadle said before Lizzie could respond.

Lizzie's stomach was in knots. "Do you think Edward knows we are coming?"

"I'm sure he did not know of Lady Romney's messages until they were already dispatched. But I'm certain he knows by now." Lady Armstrong chuckled. "Lady Romney knows my brother quite well from their adventures in America and would have anticipated his penchant for secrecy."

"True," Lady Beadle agreed. "We must take our leave and prepare for the journey. Thank you, my darlings."

Lizzie hugged Lady Armstrong. "I don't know what to say except thank you." She looked up at the viscount. "Thank you both, my lord."

"I pray that you arrive to see your brother looking hale and hearty," Lady Armstrong said, squeezing Lizzie's hand.

Lady Beadle walked up the steps to the front door of the townhouse. The door opened, and she handed her pelisse and gloves to Jenkins. "Jenkins, we must travel to Kent in the morning. Lord Armstrong has already arranged for us to travel with him. We shall require provisions for the journey—the usual fare. We will be traveling to Folkestone—to Graceview Manor, Lord Romney's country house. Mrs. Pritchett's brother has been injured and was conveyed there by my nephew and Lord Wright."

"Yes, madam. I understand perfectly and will see it done." Instead of leaving the room, he held up the salver. "An urgent missive from Lord Sinclair arrived for Mrs. Pritchett only moments before your return."

Lizzie froze and turned to Lady Beadle. "Do you think Michael has passed?"

"Nonsense, girl. Were that the case, my nephew would be standing here before you instead of Jenkins. Would you rather I read it?"

Lizzie shook her head. "No, it's all right. I'm jumping to conclusions. It's just that Michael is all the family I have."

"Not true, my dear," Lady Beadle said firmly, looping her arm through Lizzie's. "I am your family as well. You are as dear to me as Celia, Edward, and William." She took the note from the salver and handed it to Lizzie. "Thank you, Jenkins. Please send word to young Simon that his lessons will resume upon our return."

"Very well, my lady," Jenkins said before excusing himself.

"Do you think he is…gravely injured?" Lizzie asked as she fumbled with the missive in her hand.

"Open it, my dear," Lady Beadle insisted.

Lizzie broke the seal.

My Dearest Lizzie,

I could not share this with you before I left, but my mission was to rescue your brother, Captain Robinson. We were successful in our mission; however, he is badly wounded. Because I knew of Lady Bethany Romney's skills as a healer, and given that Graceview was only a few hours away by ship, Wright and I decided it would be best for your brother if we came here.

Thus far, Lady Romney has already made a significant difference in Captain Robinson's condition. Their family physician has also examined your brother and will continue to oversee his care along with Lady Romney.

I assume you have already had word from Lady Romney. She informed us of her message to Lord Armstrong upon our arrival at Graceview. By now, Lord Armstrong has received my other missive asking him to escort you here.

Please be safe.

Yours,

Edward

Lizzie had suspected that Michael had been on a dangerous assignment, but the Admiralty Office would not tell her anything. And Edward hadn't told her his mission was to search for Michael. On the one hand, she wished he had trusted her enough to tell her, but on the other, she understood why he had not. She could not be angry in any case. If there was one thing she'd learned from her time in America, it was that one's life could change in an instant and love should never have conditions.

"Do you think we will get there in time, Millie?"

"My dear, knowing William and his love of fine horseflesh, we will arrive as swiftly as if we'd flown there in Zeus's chariot. Given that both Lady Romney and Edward wrote to you, it must be serious. But let us think positively. And pray."