A Wedding In Springtime(64)
Jem told the man his adventures with Mr. Grant and Miss Talbot. He did not tell about the kiss.
“I told you to get inside the Marchford house, what do I care for Mr. Grant,” yelled the Candyman.
“But you said I should gain their trust and I did,” argued Jem.
The man stood in a flash and struck Jem across the mouth with a closed fist. Jem flew back and rolled into a ball. It was not the first time he had tasted blood.
“None of your back talk. Get in the cage,” demanded the man. Jem scrambled inside if only to protect himself from further abuse. The cage door locked shut with an echoing click. “No food today. If any of you are hungry, you can blame Jem, who did not do what I asked.” The man held up a small key. “Fortunately, I now have the key to the safe. All I need now is to get into the Marchford house, and you, boy, are going to help me do it.”
The man took the candle and went up the cellar stairs, leaving the dank basement in utter darkness. Jem began to pull scones and biscuits, ham, and lamb shank from his pockets, socks, and hat, and passed them through the bars to the boy next to him who took some and passed it along.
“Thanks, Jem,” came a whispered response. Jem curled into a ball and went to sleep, trying not to hear the faint crying from one of the younger boys. The older ones knew better than to waste their tears.
***
The sun was shining brightly and Genie awoke with a smile on her face. She could not help it, her first thought was of Grant. She gave herself a mental shake and tried to redirect her thoughts toward Mr. Blakely. He was a kind man and not afraid of her guidebook, which could only recommend him. As her maid assisted her into a morning dress of light blue, she had to continue to remind herself which man held precedence in her thoughts. Despite her determination, it took some mental effort to direct her thoughts toward Mr. Blakely, a practice that made her weary even at the breakfast table.
Somewhere over crumpets and eggs, she saw a red head peek through the front window. “Excuse me!” she exclaimed and hustled to the garden, where she found the expected Jem. Did he have a message for her from Grant or her brother?
“Jem! Are you well?”
“Yes’m. Gots a message for you.” The boy handed her a neat envelope. Jem on the other hand, was less than tidy.
“Why, Jem. What has happened to your new clothes? They are so dirty. You must take better care of yourself.”
“Yes, milady.” The boy hung his head.
“Now do not be discouraged. I understand it is hard for little boys to stay clean. You must try your best. Do you understand?”
The boy nodded and ground a booted toe into the dirt.
Genie opened the letter and was a bit disappointed to find it was not from Grant. The missive was from Mr. Blakely, suggesting they meet at Marchford house to discuss the guidebook without the danger of Lady Bremerton’s disdain.
“Tell the man who gave you this letter that I will meet him at Marchford house during morning calls, do you understand?”
Jem nodded, but evaded her eye. “Wouldn’t you rather spend time with Grant? That cove is togged in twig.”
“I do not understand.” Genie often struggled to understand the young urchin, but this time he had lost her.
“He’s a fine dresser and nice. You do like him, don’t you?”
Genie sighed. “I’m sorry you saw our, er, embrace yesterday. I do like Mr. Grant, but I need to make other friends as well.”
“I says you shouldn’t.”
“You have a kind heart, Jem. Can you deliver the message?”
“If you wish.” Jem dragged his feet walking out of the garden and Genie wondered at his apparent dejection. She shrugged to no one in particular and traipsed upstairs to find a reticule big enough to hide her guidebook.
***
“Lions? Does it really have lions?” Genie bent closer over the guidebook, her head close to Mr. Blakely’s.
“Yes, I believe the Tower of London does have lions,” answered Blakely. “I think that should go to the top of our list.”
“Definitely!” Genie had easily convinced Lady Bremerton to let her visit Penelope at the Marchford house. She told Pen and the dowager of her planned meeting with Mr. Blakely, which was met with enthusiasm. As soon as Blakely arrived, the dowager suggested they visit the garden, and so Genie found herself on a bench next to him, with Penelope somewhere amongst the hedges to maintain propriety.
“Look, they list their names,” exclaimed Genie, turning the page on her red, bound volume of The Picture of London. Genie had purchased the fat volume for five shillings and despite the grief she had endured about it, was quite enchanted with the two pullout maps and several nice engravings.