A Wedding In Springtime(47)

The servants were sitting around the table having tea and biscuits. A fire burned cheerfully in the fireplace and a groomsman played a jaunty tune on a fiddle. Everything stopped when she walked into the room. The servants all stood swiftly to their feet.

“Please, continue, do not stand on my account,” said Genie, heat rising in her cheeks.

“What can we help you with, Miss Talbot?” asked the butler with polite disregard.

“I merely wished to ask for some supper for this boy who…” Genie was about to say he had given her a message but swallowed it back down. No one was supposed to know about that, hence the importance of using a small child instead of delivering it through the post.

“He has been a help to me. Is there some supper we could provide?” asked Genie.

No one moved, but everyone eyed the filthy creature with suspicion. “This is a Christian household, Miss Talbot,” said Mrs. Grady, the housekeeper. “That boy does not belong in a respectable house.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are right. Jem here is hardly respectable. But since this is a Christian household, should we not do our duty to feed the hungry and clothe the needful?”

“You want us to clothe him too? It won’t do no good wi’ him so filthy.”

“It would be nice to provide him with clothes too, thank you for that suggestion. Would there be anything that could be used for that purpose while we get him something to eat?”

Despite the looks of reproach sent her from the various members of the household staff, Genie stood firm. Eventually, the housekeeper relented and barked out succinct orders to have the miscreant fed and clothed. Genie insisted the boy wash his hands and face before being fed, and he surprised the company by being covered in freckles, which had been concealed by the general grime. His arms and legs were scrawny and hung loosely from his body like a limp marionette.

Jem was excited about the prospect of cold ham, bread, biscuits, and tea, eating more than Genie thought a young boy could inhale. He was less excited about putting on a pair of old children’s shoes one of the housemaids found in the attic, but quickly accepted an old coat.

“Now what are you going to do with the little heathen?” asked the housekeeper, voicing the question Genie had rattling around in her mind.

“Do you have a place to stay, Jemmy?” asked Genie.

Jem nodded his head, then shook it, then shrugged and reached for another fistful of ham.

“Well, do you or don’t you?” asked the housekeeper.

“I stay wi’ Mr. Master, if’n he don’t beat me. If’n he’s in a drubbn’ mind, I sleeps in a doorway.”

“You poor dear,” said Genie.

“Naught but a street urchin,” muttered the housekeeper, less inclined toward sympathy.

“But could we not keep him?” asked Genie.

The housekeeper crossed her arms over her generous bosom. “You would have to get permission from his lordship and her ladyship first, and I’d bet a lifetime of Sundays they will not be so inclined. He’s just a street rat. London is full of them. ’Tis sad to be sure, but there is naught we can do for him.”

Genie was committed to the path of helping her wayward street urchin, but she had to agree that Lady Bremerton was unlikely to look on Jem with anything other than disgust. Yet Genie knew she was in the right, and once she was confident in her principles, she never backed down.

“Do you have any parents or family?” asked Genie.

The child shook his head.

“Who is this Mr. Master you speak of?”

“He pays us to do things, nick stuff mostly,” said the boy, taking another hearty bite of biscuit while stuffing a few more in his pocket.

“Well,” said Genie, thinking of what to do. “Well, there is nothing else we can do—we must speak with my aunt.”

***

“Your excursion to see your betrothed has cost me my coat,” accused Grant, swirling his whiskey.

“Your coat?” asked Marchford, sitting across from him in their accustomed club.

“Was left on a damp Miss Talbot. Had twelve flaps, made by Brooks. I have a mind to ask for it back.”

“You wish to see Miss Talbot again?”

“I’d like to see my coat again.”

“She is a fine article, Grant.”

“Yes, but what is she going to do with a man’s coat? Can’t wear it. Look demmed silly on a girl.”