Escaping Notice (6 page)

Shutting the door behind her maid, Helen turned back to Ned. He
had picked up one of the large yeast rolls from a basket on the
table and appeared to be completely absorbed in buttering it.

“What would you think of a frog living in a tea pot?” he asked,
out of nowhere.

“A frog? In a tea pot?” There was no tea pot on the table that
she could see. “I suppose I’ve never really thought about it.”

“But what would you do if you found one?”

“Well, let it go, I suppose.”

He frowned. “But you can see, can’t you, that a tea pot is a
good place to keep a frog? At least temporarily?”

“The pot is not full of tea, is it?”

“No,” he replied, scornfully. “Just a little pond water.”

“Then I suppose it might be all right, as a temporary home.” The
notion appeared harmless enough, if a trifle eccentric.

He nodded, appearing satisfied.

“There aren’t any frogs in tea pots here, are there?” she asked,
hoping the discussion was entirely theoretical.

“Of course not! I don’t suppose they even have tea pots
here!”

“I’m sure they do. But they’re probably full of tea. And a jar
would be better, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.” His toe dug at little more at the carpet. “If I had
a jar. But you’d have to have holes in the lid. They need to
breathe, you know.”

“I’m sure they do. Do you have a frog?”

“Not any more.”

Thank goodness.

“Well, maybe you can find one in London, after we get there.
Now, where are we to take you when we arrive tomorrow? Where were
you to meet your guardian?” she asked, her voice betraying her
doubts. Ned Brown hadn’t given her his destination, and given his
predilection for well-embroidered tales, she wasn’t sure she ought
to help him in his adventure.

What if he was some lord’s runaway heir? No one would thank her
for assisting Ned in his escape.

Her doubts increased with Ned’s next comment. He shrugged and
said, “Anywhere’ll do. I can find my way well enough once I’m
there.” Cramming the first roll into his mouth, he chewed while he
picked up another bun and the butter knife.

“Yes, but where does your guardian live? We ought to leave you
safely in his care.”

“I’ll show you when we get to London.”

“You don’t know, do you? Because you’ve run away from home. Who
is your
real
guardian? Where does he live?”

His eyes flickered, however he devoured half of the second warm
yeast roll before answering, “In truth, I don’t know.”

“You
did
run away!”

“No.” Ned broke up the remains of the second roll and added more
butter, only to stop and glance up at her. His fingers nervously
tore the bread into smaller and smaller pieces.

“If you did not run away, then why don’t you know Mr. Brown’s
address? If there
is
a Mr. Brown.”

“No, I honestly, well, I’m not sure because I don’t
remember!”

“You don’t remember?”

“I’m only eleven, Miss!” he wailed.

Helen stared at him, nearly sure he was play acting, but
uncertain enough to put her arm round him and give him an awkward
hug. “So you aren’t running away, but you don’t know where you are
going in London? Truthfully?”

A sob shook his shoulders. “I—I don’t remember!”

“Then we shall take you back to your home. It can’t be that far
if you walked here today. Surely the constable can help you find
your family.”

“That’s just it, Miss. I woke up in a field this morning with
nothing but this old valise and no idea where I should go. All I
could remember was the name ‘Ned Brown’ and the notion that I had
to go to London. That’s all. So I thought it best to continue
onward.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a Banbury tale to me.”

“It’s all I can say, Miss.” He hiccupped and wiped his nose on
his sleeve, before Helen pushed one of the linen napkins into his
hand.

“Or all you
will
say. Wipe your nose. It is not all that
terrible, after all. You’re perfectly safe with me, and we shall
find where you belong soon enough.” She studied Ned, but was none
the wiser after her perusal.

Then sudden inspiration made her smile.

Uncle John often had occasion to hire an inquiry agent. It would
be a simple matter to employ one to determine who Ned Brown was and
where he lived.

She squeezed his shoulder and smiled encouragingly. “Never mind.
Perhaps you’ll remember after a good night’s sleep. Or maybe a
glimpse of London will bring your memories back.”

“Perhaps,” Ned replied. He sounded doubtful and sullen.

Helen’s heart went out to him. It must be frightening to be only
eleven years old and alone. Ned was being such a brave little
soldier, trying to carry on without any help.

At least he did not have to be alone any more.

She would do everything she could to help him and still find the
Peckham Necklace. There was plenty of time to be a true
adventuress, she thought as she chewed another fingernail down to
the quick.

“
Avoid
as much as possible going out in the evening ….” —
The Complete
Servant

They got a very late start the next day, so when Helen and Ned
Brown arrived in London, it was already dusk. The carriage bumped
over the roads, jarring every bone in their weary bodies.

Helen’s maid yawned broadly and glanced through the window,
squinting at the deep shadows streaming from every narrow
alley.

“We’re almost to your sister’s house, Miss Helen,” she said.

Studying Ned, Helen made a sudden decision. Her cousin had
married a private inquiry agent. Perhaps he could assist her and
locate Mr. Brown’s family. If she lost her courage or couldn’t
return to Ormsby, she might ask him to retrieve the necklace, as
well. “We shall stop to let you out, Sally. Please inform my sister
that I’ve gone on with Mr. Brown and will return shortly.”

“You mean you’re going out?”

“Just a brief errand.” Helen stared at her maid until the woman
dropped her gaze to her lap, although the tightness of her mouth
revealed her disapproval of Helen’s intentions. At least she only
had a view of Sally’s mulish expression in brief glimpses, as they
passed through bursts of light cast by the streetlamps being lit by
the watch as evening edged into night.

“Where are you going this time of night?” Sally asked, as they
drew up at the Dacy residence. “Lady Dacy won’t be pleased if you
run off before you even arrive.”

“My sister won’t mind in the least. Now get down and tell the
coachman to come here so I may speak to him.”

Sally grumbled but obeyed. When the scraggy gray head of the
coachman popped through the open door, Helen ordered him to drive
on to Second Sons Inquiry Agency.

“Second Sons? Whereabouts be that?”

“How should I know?” Helen replied, somewhat testily. Every bone
in her body ached after rattling around in the coach all day, like
a dried pea in a bottle. “Ask. I’m sure someone can give you
directions.”

“This time o’night?”

“Yes, this time of the night. It’s not that late, after all. Now
do as I say.”

The coachman slammed the door shut and made his way back up to
his perch, while Helen surreptitiously rubbed her suddenly cold
hands. Someone at Second Sons would be able to help poor Ned Brown,
and he would soon be fast asleep in his own cozy bed. She smiled at
him, although in the gloomy recesses of the carriage, she doubted
he could see.

“Why are we going on?” Ned asked. He rubbed his eyes with his
fist and looked around blearily.

Helen straightened, startled by the sound of his voice. “I have
an errand to run. In fact, I’m hoping I can help you discover where
you belong.”

“Where I belong?” he echoed.

She leaned over and tried to reassure him by patting his hand.
Unfortunately, she only succeeded in slapping his knee. “Don’t
worry. I know you must be frightened to be lost and have no idea
where you’ll even stay for the night. But I promise I’ll take care
of you until we can find your parents.”

“Good luck,” he replied cryptically.

“I beg your pardon?”

“They’re dead.”

“Oh. Well, yes, but did you not indicate you thought you were
going to visit your guardian? Before, or was it after, you lost
your memory? In any event, we’ll simply look for him.”

“You can try.”

The boy’s careless replies rather irritated Helen. She was doing
her best to help him find his family, and he did not seem the least
bit interested in the proceedings. He ought to be a little more
concerned about his future, or at least frightened of being alone
in a large city like London.

Under similar circumstances, she would have been terrified. But
apparently, little boys were made of sterner stuff. Ned Brown
sounded more as though he was laughing at her. Not that it
mattered.

Or perhaps he was the sort who laughed when he was over-excited
or nervous. One of Helen’s dearest friends suffered from the same
condition. Why, there had even been one dreadful afternoon when her
friend had received news of a death in her family and had burst
into uncontrollable giggles.

She turned sideways to face him. “I thought we could hire an
inquiry agent, since you don’t remember where you belong. He can
help us find your family. And in the meantime, you can stay with
me.” She stopped, suddenly realizing he could not remain with her
if she were going to sneak back to Ormsby in search of the missing
necklace. “Or rather, you can stay with my sister, Lady Dacy.
You’ll adore her. She’s ever so nice and has a lovely newborn babe.
Do you like babies?”

“No.”

His reply rather set her down, like a horse with the reins
abruptly yanked back. “You don’t like babies?” she stammered.

“No. They cry too much. And they’re ugly,” he replied
succinctly.

“They are
not
ugly.”

“Yes, they are. They’re fat little beasts with no hair. And they
spend all their time either spitting up on you or wailing.”

“Ned! How can you say such a thing?”

“Because it’s true?” He did not sound at all abashed.

“You’re — you’re bamming me, aren’t you?” she replied,
half-laughing. “You don’t mean any such thing.”

“I do mean it. That’s why you should set me down here and send
me on my way.”

“Don’t be a goose! I won’t do any such thing, no matter how
terrible you are. So you can just wipe that notion clean away.”

It struck her that Ned Brown may — or may not — have lost his
memory, but it was certain that he had run away from home. That
made it even more imperative that she hire a competent inquiry
agent to discover where he belonged. She eyed his shadowy form,
hunched into the corner, and her heart went out to him. If he had
run away because his family had mistreated him, then the inquiry
agent could find that out as well.

And under those sad circumstances, Helen hoped his family would
agree to allow him to live with her instead. She had no great
expectation that this, her third and final Season, would lead to an
offer of matrimony. But perhaps it would take her mind off her
dreary future, and she would have a younger brother of sorts to
squire her around London.

They could both enjoy themselves. And maybe Helen’s true
brother, Nathaniel, the Duke of Peckham, could be persuaded to take
Ned under his wing. He could send the boy off to university when
the time came, and ensure he got a decent education.

To have Ned’s future so neatly planned pleased her. Content, she
sat back against the squabs and contemplated places around London
which might interest a young man of eleven.

Museums, theatres …. The carriage turned onto Clerkenwell Road,
made a few more turns and then came to a lurching halt. When the
coachman flung open the door and lowered the steps, Helen peeped
out nervously, trying to compose her thoughts. A brick sidewalk led
up to a modest townhouse with bright brass lamps on either side of
the black door. An ominously black door. She stared at it, her
doubts growing.

While she stood there, gesturing for Ned to join her, the front
door opened.

“May I help you?” a plummy voice inquired.

“I wish to see one of your inquiry agents,” Helen announced as
she grabbed Ned’s arm and dragged him toward the door. What was it
about butlers that made her feel like a tattered orphan with dirt
on her nose? “Is Mr. Trenchard available?”

“If you would step inside, Miss ….” The butler stepped aside to
allow them to enter. “I’ll see if any of the agents are free.” His
tone implied he was doing them a favor, one which he did not
particularly want to grant.

Helen called to the coachman over her shoulder as she urged Ned
forward. “Wait here. Please. If you will?”

“Aye.” He leaned against the nearest horse and stroked its
flank.

The butler ushered them inside the entryway. Helen stopped
abruptly, surprised to see a man heading for an open door on their
left. He glanced at them, and Helen took a step back, bumping into
Ned.

The stranger was quite the largest man she had ever seen. As she
adjusted to his unexpected presence, she realized he was not quite
as tall as she had initially thought, although he appeared to tower
well over six feet. His massive shoulders and limbs filled the
doorway.

The image of a huge blonde Viking, bent on ravaging a quiet
English village, flashed through her mind. The only accoutrements
he lacked were a few ragged furs thrown over his shoulders and a
battle axe, or maybe a sword. His rough clothes and scruffy
whiskers lent him a wild and dangerous air. She turned slightly and
placed her arm over Ned’s narrow shoulders, drawing him against
her, despite his annoyed resistance. The stranger’s pale, gray eyes
raked over her in rapid assessment before he strode through the
door.