the day.” Henry’s eyes soften. “I didn’t expect it, but although she looks as fragile as glass, she’s strong-willed at heart.”
“And bonny to look at,” Mr. Wellesley adds. “Even without the paint and ornaments, she’s still a pretty picture for the eye.”
Henry nods, his cheeks slightly pink. “I’d better be leaving, as there’s a lecture at the institute I should attend,” he says. “A good day to you, Miss Katriona.”
“Same here,” I say. Of all the noble young men I’ve met, he’s the most approachable. It’s easy to be friends with him. Whereas his cousin…
“Lassie?” Mr. Wellesley says, waving a hand before me. “Daydreaming of some desirable marriage partner?”
I roll my eyes. “Can you send me a message when the sequel comes out?”
His eyes glint behind his half-moon glasses. “With pleasure, my lady.”
Back in the hansom, I tell Van that our next destination is Mrs. Thatcher’s house. He squints. “You want to go there again?”
No doubt he thinks I’m nuts. If I were him, I’d think I was nuts too.
“Um…” I fish around for an excuse. “I left my emerald brooch at her place. And there’s this garden party I have to go to tomorrow afternoon, and I really need that brooch to set off my dress, so you see, I’ve got to fetch it today.”
Van scrubs a hand across his face and sighs. A look that is becoming familiar. “Get on.”
Now that Henry has told me of Mrs. Thatcher’s condition, it’s time to pay a visit.
To tell the truth, I’m not looking forward to meeting Mrs. Thatcher again. Or rather, I dread going back to that squalid, unsanitary environment. It makes me feel guilty for the comforts I have. But I have to go.
Half an hour later we reach Mrs. Thatcher’s rented house. I spring off the hansom without assistance (now I’ve gotten the hang of it, even with long skirts) and hurry to the entrance.
I knock twice before the door opens a crack and a bewildered face peers out. I recognize Mrs. Thatcher, but she was like, unconscious all the time I was there, so I’m a stranger to her. She still looks kind of weak: her skin is pale and her eyes have this hollow look, but at least she has both feet planted firmly on the ground.
“Good morning.” I nod and smile at her. “I’m Kat—Katriona Bradshaw. Elle may have mentioned my name to you?”
Mrs. Thatcher’s eyes grow wide. “Mercy me, so you are the younger miss! She told me you brought the doctor for me.”
“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” I say, embarrassed. “I only offered the assistance of our carriage.”
“Gods bless you, miss, for your timely aid. Don’t care much what happens to myself, but I have two young uns besides Elle, and it’s hard enough for ‘em. Praise the Lord my Billy found work at a better place.”
I smile, though privately I think it would be even better if Billy could go to school. “Can I come in for a second?”
“If you don’t mind our humble quarters; they’re too poor for a lady like you.” Mrs. Thatcher appears flustered. “Elle’s all right, ain’t she?”
Probably my serious expression has alarmed her. “Elle’s fine. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
The inside of the hut hasn’t changed much, but it looks much neater and tidier now. Henry must have issued strict orders to clean up the environment to ensure safety for Mrs. Thatcher’s health conditions. On the mattress is a pile of clothes with a pincushion and thimble, so it looks like she is well enough to engage in work. I sit gingerly on the only chair in the middle of the room.
“Tea, miss?” Mrs. Thatcher moves to a battered, worn-looking tin on a rickety wooden shelf.
“Thanks, but no. Please don’t trouble yourself; I’ll be going soon.”
Her hand drops to her side, and there’s a hint of relief in her face. I was kind of worried if I seemed rude, but honestly, for sanitary reasons I’m a bit concerned about drinking tea here. Plus, from
“And bonny to look at,” Mr. Wellesley adds. “Even without the paint and ornaments, she’s still a pretty picture for the eye.”
Henry nods, his cheeks slightly pink. “I’d better be leaving, as there’s a lecture at the institute I should attend,” he says. “A good day to you, Miss Katriona.”
“Same here,” I say. Of all the noble young men I’ve met, he’s the most approachable. It’s easy to be friends with him. Whereas his cousin…
“Lassie?” Mr. Wellesley says, waving a hand before me. “Daydreaming of some desirable marriage partner?”
I roll my eyes. “Can you send me a message when the sequel comes out?”
His eyes glint behind his half-moon glasses. “With pleasure, my lady.”
Back in the hansom, I tell Van that our next destination is Mrs. Thatcher’s house. He squints. “You want to go there again?”
No doubt he thinks I’m nuts. If I were him, I’d think I was nuts too.
“Um…” I fish around for an excuse. “I left my emerald brooch at her place. And there’s this garden party I have to go to tomorrow afternoon, and I really need that brooch to set off my dress, so you see, I’ve got to fetch it today.”
Van scrubs a hand across his face and sighs. A look that is becoming familiar. “Get on.”
Now that Henry has told me of Mrs. Thatcher’s condition, it’s time to pay a visit.
To tell the truth, I’m not looking forward to meeting Mrs. Thatcher again. Or rather, I dread going back to that squalid, unsanitary environment. It makes me feel guilty for the comforts I have. But I have to go.
Half an hour later we reach Mrs. Thatcher’s rented house. I spring off the hansom without assistance (now I’ve gotten the hang of it, even with long skirts) and hurry to the entrance.
I knock twice before the door opens a crack and a bewildered face peers out. I recognize Mrs. Thatcher, but she was like, unconscious all the time I was there, so I’m a stranger to her. She still looks kind of weak: her skin is pale and her eyes have this hollow look, but at least she has both feet planted firmly on the ground.
“Good morning.” I nod and smile at her. “I’m Kat—Katriona Bradshaw. Elle may have mentioned my name to you?”
Mrs. Thatcher’s eyes grow wide. “Mercy me, so you are the younger miss! She told me you brought the doctor for me.”
“Oh, that wasn’t anything,” I say, embarrassed. “I only offered the assistance of our carriage.”
“Gods bless you, miss, for your timely aid. Don’t care much what happens to myself, but I have two young uns besides Elle, and it’s hard enough for ‘em. Praise the Lord my Billy found work at a better place.”
I smile, though privately I think it would be even better if Billy could go to school. “Can I come in for a second?”
“If you don’t mind our humble quarters; they’re too poor for a lady like you.” Mrs. Thatcher appears flustered. “Elle’s all right, ain’t she?”
Probably my serious expression has alarmed her. “Elle’s fine. I just want to ask you a few questions.”
The inside of the hut hasn’t changed much, but it looks much neater and tidier now. Henry must have issued strict orders to clean up the environment to ensure safety for Mrs. Thatcher’s health conditions. On the mattress is a pile of clothes with a pincushion and thimble, so it looks like she is well enough to engage in work. I sit gingerly on the only chair in the middle of the room.
“Tea, miss?” Mrs. Thatcher moves to a battered, worn-looking tin on a rickety wooden shelf.
“Thanks, but no. Please don’t trouble yourself; I’ll be going soon.”
Her hand drops to her side, and there’s a hint of relief in her face. I was kind of worried if I seemed rude, but honestly, for sanitary reasons I’m a bit concerned about drinking tea here. Plus, from
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