A Tarnished Heart Page 6

  Lucinda raised her eyebrows and nodded in his direction. Then, she took a hold of her charge’s arm and together they crossed the street.

  “Why? Where is she?”

  Markham sighed and looked down at the woman suddenly standing next to him. “Miss Parker, I presume?”

  “Yes.” Lady Harkmoor glanced each way down the pavement. “I was only in the shop but a moment.”

  Markham swallowed the balloon of frustration expanding in his throat. Soon enough it would choke him. Now he had an engagement for the opera with the wrong woman. A rebellious girl to locate somewhere in London. And a ninny for a chaperone.

  He looked down at his bare hands. The signet ring remained at Blackhawk Manor in a drawer. And it was no wonder he didn’t wish to wear it. After all, what the devil had his father done to him?

  Chapter Six

  Lizzie watched the buildings go past as the carriage took them through London’s busy streets.

  Finally, when the smell of fish and dirty water filled her nostrils, the vehicle slowed. The sun glinted off the Thames and bounced between ships and the men working on the docks. Lizzie stared, fascinated by the activity and noises.

  The footman helped her down then followed. Robert led them down the tight street to a door that appeared no different than the dozen others around it.

  Lizzie let go of Albert and followed the children inside. The narrow, dark house possessed only small windows in the front and rear. The first room held a lone dusty fireplace on the right. The back of the house looked to be the kitchen area with a table and a stove. A set of steps must lead the way to the sleeping areas. A lingering odor from an earlier meal wasn’t enough to overpower the stench of fish from outside.

  Once her eyes completely adjusted to the dim interior, Lizzie noticed a girl sitting on a chair in the corner. A baby bounced on her lap, tugging at her hair.

  “That’s Annabel and Sarah,” Robert told them pointing in turn. He shut the door behind. “They’re my sisters.”

  Lizzie saw out the window that the footman had been ordered to remain in watch over her. She assumed the carriage driver would return for Markham.

  She glanced back to the older girl who glared back with wary and old eyes.

  “Who’s she?” the girl snapped. Her brown hair that had been put up long ago was now falling miserably about her shoulders.

  “Miss Parker,” Lizzie answered, realizing she had never introduced herself to the boys. “I met your brothers in town. I asked to come home and meet the rest of their family.”

  “So ye found Albert again, eh?” Apparently this wasn’t the first time the little boy managed to make his way deeper into the city.

  Robert shrugged. Sarah put the baby on the floor, where it immediately started crawling over and around every obstacle.

  “Is your father working too?” Lizzie asked.

  Sarah frowned at her. “’E’s dead.”

  Hollowness scoured Lizzie’s stomach, she understood their pain. She’d lost two members of her family. But words wouldn’t form in her mouth.

  “Do ye live in London?” Albert asked as he yanked off his shirt.

  “Oh, no. I’m from Abingdon.”

  “Where’s that?” the three children asked in unison.

  “Have you never heard of it?” They shook their heads. “Do you have a map of England? I can show it to you.”

  Sarah snorted. “Why would we ’ave a map o’ England?”

  Lizzie put her hands on her hips, itching to tidy up the room. “Perhaps you have one they sent home from school.”

  Her sneer returned. “None of us ’ave had much time fer school.”

  The words struck Lizzie with a pang of horror and sorrow. Even in the village, the poor children attended school. In fact, she and Edmund taught most of the children themselves.

  “But certainly there must be a Ragged School nearby.”

  “There’s a school near ’ere, but we jus’ can’t go all the time.” Sarah bent down and yanked something shiny from Annabel’s grasp. The baby started crying.

  “Look what ye did,” Albert said, he stood nearly naked now, his thin, pale chest glimmering like a ghost against the blackness of the fireplace. “Yer so mean. Ye always make her cry.”

  Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. “So what? What are ye gonna do about it? Ye gonna take care o’ her?”

  “Leave Albert alone,” Robert said, stepping between them. He pushed his hair from his eyes.

  The three of them started arguing, ignoring the crying baby completely. Lizzie didn’t know what to do. Growing up, there had only been Rachel and herself. And they never fought. No, it was Lizzie’s responsibility to look after her little sister. A pang of guilt struck her, but she forced it away. She couldn’t let that yank her down into despair now.

  She scooped up the baby and went over to sit in a chair by the front window.

  Annabel looked up and smiled, a lonely tooth poking out from her bottom gums. She was a pretty baby, with hair and eyes lighter than her siblings. Her round cheeks tapered down to her dented chin. A dimpled chin, just like Markham’s.

  Lizzie glanced out the window onto the cobblestone alley. Where was that man now? Was he even worried about her? Not that he could have stopped her from going, but he certainly could have tried harder.

  And he claimed it was his responsibility to look out for her. He cared much more for that precious reputation of his than for her actual well-being.

  Annabel tugged at the lace on her dress and Lizzie smiled at the baby. “You seem to be the only one here in a good temper.”

  The mostly toothless grin returned and Lizzie instinctively licked her fingertip and wiped a smudge off Annabel’s face.

  “What’re ye doing?”

  Sarah yanked her sister away, causing the child to erupt into cries again.

  “See how mean she is?” Albert had pulled on a clean shirt.

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “Why did ye come ’ere?”

  “Because your little brother was frightened and I wanted to talk with your mother.”

  The girl’s eyebrows went up. “Ye think ye can convince Mam that Albert shouldn’t help on the docks? What else is ’e ter do?”

  Lizzie shrugged. She didn’t know what any of them could do. At home, in Abingdon, she could find them work. But in London, they could find work as a servant in wealthy home. Perhaps with the right training, Markham could take them on. Still, she’d rather them get an education. “Perhaps go to school.”

  “’E’s not going ter school. ’E’s got ter work. Like the rest o’ us.” Sarah shoved Annabel at Robert and sucked in a breath. “We’ve all got to help Mam. And if ’e can only fetch and carry for the men that needs his help, then that’s what ’e’s gonna do.”

  A burning ache rippled within Lizzie’s chest. She watched Sarah stomp off toward the corner of the room. She heard her sniffles and saw the stricken faces of the other children. They all wanted to go to school. They wanted something better. Who could not hear it in their voices, see it in their hopeful eyes?

  Lizzie sighed, disappointment sweeping through her. She didn’t want to disturb them. She only wanted to help. That’s what she was trained to do.

  An idea came to her. “Do you have a Bible?”

  Robert nodded slowly. He pointed across the room. Sarah pulled the book from a small table drawer.

  Lizzie took the old, tattered book from her. Then, she sat next on a hard wooden chair near the fireplace. “Would anyone like me to read to them?”

  Albert nodded with enthusiasm. Robert sat on the floor with Annabel. Sarah said nothing, but she edged her toward a chair so that she was closer.

  “Do you have a favorite part?” Lizzie offered each a warm smile.

  Robert and Albert shook their head. She wasn’t sure if that meant they didn’t have a favorite section or if they’d never heard it at all. She decided to start at the beginning and opened the book.

  Lizzie got through a few pa
ges of Genesis when the front door swung open. The children immediately rushed over to the brown-haired woman, tugging at her dusty, worn blue skirts and clamoring for her attention.

  “Hush. Hush.” She kissed them all in turn until Albert bounced on his heels long enough for her to notice. “Well, out with it, young man? Why’re ye so excited?”

  “See.” He pointed over to where Lizzie sat. “Miz Parker. She came ’ome with me and Robert.”

  The woman gently pushed the children aside and strode over. Lizzie stood, trying not to stare at her worn clothing, disheveled hair, or haunting, tired eyes. There was no way to guess her age by her appearance alone. The haggard, pale face added far too many years even to chance a guess.

  “Miss Parker? I’m ’Lizabeth Long. Is there something I ken do for ye?”

  The irony in that they shared the same name did not slip by Lizzie. Same name, but vastly different lives.

  But when Lizzie opened her mouth, the words stuck in her throat. How could she explain that she wanted to help them, that she felt a need to be here with them? That she felt more comfortable here with them than in the glittering ballrooms of London society? “Albert bumped into me on the street and—”

  “Street?” Her sharp glare turned to her youngest son. “Did ye run off again?”

  The boy lowered his eyes. “Yes, Mam. But Robert found me quick enough.”

  “I’ll deal with ye later, young man.” Elizabeth turned back to her, the stranger. “’E didn’t cause any harm, did ’e?”

  “No. But he looked so frightened and when Robert explained about the water…”

  Elizabeth nodded, her eyes sad. “Aye, ’e’s afraid of the docks, his father was killed down there, ye see.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lizzie said, “I just felt so bad for him—”

  “So ye thought ye could come help ’im.”

  “Yes. I want to help. Him. You.”

  The woman lifted her chin and put her hands on her hips. “We don’t need yer kind of help, Miss Parker. We’ve managed just fine without ye.”

  “She read to us, Mam,” Albert said, pulling on her skirt. “From the Bible.”

  “Did she now?” Elizabeth turned to Sarah. “Take them and go outside.”

  She said nothing else until the room was empty. “Now see ’ere, Miss Parker. I don’t need yer charity. Ye think ye can come here between yer fancy balls and carriage rides and ease yer soul. But we’re too busy to help ye.”

  “You don’t understand. I want to help you.”

  She pointed to the door. “Go back to yer house in Regent’s Park.”

  Frustration thrust Lizzie forward and she captured her arm. “Please. Let me explain.” A sob tickled the back of her throat. “I don’t want to be in Regent’s Park. I don’t want to go to fancy balls or on carriage rides.”

  Elizabeth’s hazel eyes narrowed in a similar manner to her daughter’s—a distinct look of suspicion.

  Lizzie continued. “I don’t want to be in London. I’m from a small village in Abingdon. My father is the vicar there and he forced me to come here for a Season. He wants me to marry a viscount or something.” She let go of Elizabeth’s arm. “But I just want to stay at home and marry Edmund.”

  “Who is he?”

  “He’s the church’s curate. But he isn’t good enough for my father.”

  “And so why do ye want to help us?”

  “Because that’s what I did at home. I read to the parishioners from the Bible. I taught their children to read. I helped look after their babies.”

  “So yer a country girl with a clergyman for a father.”

  “Yes.”

  “You ain’t titled?”

  “My father was the last son of an earl, but he has no real title.”

  Elizabeth adjusted her skirts and nodded. “So ye want to help me because it makes ye finer. Ye feel less than those yer forced to be with and I make ye feel greater.”

  Lizzie’s shoulders tensed again, her eyes blurring in frustration. “No, that’s not it. I just want to help. I do want to make myself feel better, but not because I believe I’m superior to you. I want to make good on my promise to Mama, I promised her I’d take care of her duties.” That I’d look after my sister. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “But now that I’m in London, I don’t have that chance. Except for you and your family.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “What did ye have in yer mind?”

  Hope cautiously ballooned in Lizzie’s heart. “Teach the children to read, baby-sit for you, help you with chores. I’d give you money but I don’t think you’d take it.”

  “The children can read. A little. How often would we see ye?”

  Lizzie took a hold of Elizabeth’s rough hands. “I’d come every day if I could, but if not that, then often. You can’t imagine how much I’d rather be here with you studying and playing with the children than having some dull breakfast with Lady Something-or-Another.”

  Elizabeth laughed, the lines in her face deepening, but an underlying beauty broke through. But the moment was shattered by a sharp knock.

  “Is that the children?” Lizzie asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Elizabeth went over and opened the door. “Aye?”

  She stepped back as a man entered the room.

  His towering presence consumed the small space. He took off his hat and gave a slight bow. “Pardon me, madam. I’m looking for someone by the name of Miss Elizabeth Parker. I was told she came in this dwelling.”

  The frantic thumping of Lizzie’s heart briefly tied her tongue. Heat spread through her veins. Then she took a deep breath and shoved her hands on her hips. “So, Markham, you’ve finally come for me.”

  The carriage swayed and lurched as it took them away from the Docks. Lady Harkmoor had started reading one of her many books, but now dozed against the window.

  Markham leaned forward, analyzing Miss Parker. A different essence hovered about her. She still had that fire-colored hair, so vivid it looked as though painted by an artist’s brush. Her lips shone a lovely pink. And those freckles dotted her face like stars in a clear night-time sky. Her eyes were the same green, like the hills he remembered in Ireland.

  Ah, now he realized why she seemed so changed. A new glimmer danced within their depths. Shadows always lurked in those eyes, hiding her truest desires from him, the ones he really needed to know. He could only see negativity there - disappointment, pain, anger. Today he unmistakably saw something else. Excitement.

  He sat back against the cushion and spread his arms across the back. “I had a surprise for you, remember?”

  “And do you remember that I didn’t want the surprise?”

  “Yes, yes. Would you care for me to tell you what the surprise is, since you missed the opportunity?”

  He noted the gentle arc of her chin as she tilted it. “It matters not. I found a better way to spend my day.”

  “Yes, you made new…friends.”

  “And what of it? I barely got to know Elizabeth when you burst in insisting I leave.”

  Markham didn’t answer, but listened to the clatter of the carriage and the noises of the city. Only a short time ago he was standing out there wondering where she’d gone, worrying she might be lost or robbed or worse.

  He leaned forward again, needing to breathe in the sweet scent of her. “You disappeared. I feared you lost.”

  “Would you miss me?”

  “Your father entrusted me with your care.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You let me go off without you. I said you could come along, but you were too stubborn and stayed on your corner.”

  “You know, Miss Parker, there are many organizations you can volunteer at to help those less fortunate than yourself.”

  She stiffened at his words. “I don’t want to join any organization, furnish some money and discuss poor living conditions over tea.”

  “That money has done a great deal of good for the poor.”

  Miss Parker lifted a shoulder, a gl
eam flashed in her eyes. “Perhaps. But they don’t always want charity or hand-outs. They need help. Real help by a physical body.”

  His eyes thirsted upon her body, along the soft curves of the simple cream dress she wore. Warmth shimmered down his legs, pooled into a flash of fire in his groin. He was so tempted to leap across to the other side of the carriage and smooth his palm down the fabric. Test her resolve and his patience.

  But he remained immobile, willing away the stiffening of his flesh.

  “This is what I did at home.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Or didn’t you notice?”

  Notice? Why would he notice what Miss Elizabeth Parker did with her time? No, Markham had other worries in his life. His son’s progress in his studies, his stepbrother’s messes to tidy, several houses to run. Every expenditure of energy went towards making himself the man his father wanted. The man he should have been all those years ago.

  Markham changed the subject. “So what do you plan to do with these people?”

  Her gaze sliced through him. “These people have names: Elizabeth Long and her four children. Sarah, Robert, Albert and the baby, Annabel.” Instantly, her expression softened. “Oh, those children want to learn how to read. Their lives have been so hard since their father died. It isn’t fair…”

  Markham watched her eyes sparkle. It was as if he were seeing the real Miss Parker for the first time. The one he would meet if destiny and blackmail had not thrust them together this way.

  His silence caught up with her and she crossed her arms, indignation taut on every feature. “But what would you know of them? What would you care?”

  How would she react if he kissed those tight lips? “How do you know that I don’t?”

  “I saw the way you looked at their home.”

  “I’ll admit it was a shock at first.”

  “And I asked you to help, to take us there in this.”

  Markham cleared his throat. “As I recall, we had plans and you left me.”

  A splash of color raced up her neck and onto her cheeks. “You made those plans, not me. But I don’t know why I thought you would help any way. You won’t risk yourself for anyone.”