Shayla Black (22 page)

Molly’s eyes threatened to come loose from their sockets. “Cor, twenty— What does she look like?”

Brock gave Molly a brief description of height and hair color, with Maddie interspersing details of her eye color, her voice.

“
She’s wearing a pink woolen dress and black boots,” Maddie added. “Her name is Aimee. She’ll be crying and scared.”

Molly bowed her head to lift the rope from about her slight neck and dropped her tray of candles in the street. “I’ll round up me friends. We’ll find ‘er right and tight.”

As Maddie watched Molly scamper off, she prayed the Whitechapel girl could live up to that promise.

Thinking of the alternative was too frightening.

For the next two terrifying hours, Maddie and Brock searched the grungy streets of London’s East End. Up busy Whitechapel Road polluted with sewage and vice, down less-traveled Leman Street filled with gin houses and thugs who appeared as if they might kill anyone for a coin.

Maddie called for Aimee in raw desperation until her throat ached. When her voice grew weak, Brock took over. Maddie could not help but be grateful.

He stayed at her side without complaint, shouting for the daughter he did not know was his. His voice carried farther, true. But his help meant more. He’d taken control of the situation, enlisting the help of others who knew these dingy streets, children who might think more like Aimee. For once, she even had the twenty sovereigns to pay Molly and her friends should they prove successful, thanks to the sale of the pearls Brock had given her.

The fearful part of Maddie wanted to blame him for this debacle, but she could not. The look on his face, the strain evident in his frown, the tracks of his fingers through the thick strands of his coffee-colored hair, more than demonstrated his worry.

For that alone, she welcomed him at her side.

“
How are you?” he turned to her. The very touch of his hands upon her shoulders, gentle, guiding, resonating with concern. He was in this hell with her, beside her every step of the way.

Part of her wanted to tell Brock the truth about Aimee, here and now. But neither were up to the strain of the truth tonight. It would bring questions and confrontation. Finding Aimee was most important at this moment. She could decide the rest tomorrow when—if—they found their daughter.

“
Let’s get you something to eat. You look as if a stiff wind might blow you over.”

Maddie shook her head. Despite the fact the time neared nine o’clock, she had not felt the slightest rumble of hunger.

“
Eat if you wish. I must keep looking.”

With a shrug, Maddie broke away from his tender grip and took a handful of steps into the foggy, moonlit night.

Brock slipped his hand into hers, staying her. “Maddie, these are not streets you should walk alone.”

She looked up, around her, at the rows of rickety shanties, their dark windows like bruises. She heard a shrill scream in the distance. The crack of a pistol punctured the sound. Grim silence followed.

Clearly, Brock was right, but she could not worry about her own safety. In fact, Brock’s warning made her hysteria rise again. “I must keep searching. Aimee is out there alone!”

“
Shhh.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “We are doing all we can. If you wish to keep looking, we will. I meant my offer of food to distract you from your worry. I’m sorry.”

Touched by his apology, his very sentiment, Maddie lifted a hand to his face. Stubbles of whiskers darkened his jaw now. He’d wrenched his cravat away hours ago. Dirt stained his crisp white shirt, attained by searching through countless dark and dismal alleys. Maddie could not consider him the enemy at that moment. He’d become an ally who had lent a hand without hesitation.

“
I’m sorry to be cross,” she whispered. “I’m just so frightened. What if I never see her again? How will I live with the worry that she’s hurt or been taken captive by debauched—”

“
Do not think that now,” Brock broke in, covering her mouth with his hand. “We must think our best thoughts, pray often.”

Then Brock enfolded her in his embrace, strong and unflinching, and brought her close. She felt his heartbeat, drew in the scents of ink, leather, dirt, and man. He comforted her, somehow made her believe he understood.

Now she could only hope that all would be well.

CHAPTER TEN

“
Guv!” Molly’s little voice shouted from down the dark road. “We found ‘er!”

Breath catching, Maddie whirled from the warm haven of Brock’s embrace and looked toward the voice. Her heart pounded when she caught sight of Molly and four of her ragtag friends. In the middle, Aimee hobbled, holding their hands.

Relief burst inside Maddie in a well of warmth.

“
Mama!” Aimee shouted, tears in her voice.

Maddie ran to her baby, eyes hot with salty tears. Joy surged, taking hold of her fear-filled heart and unchaining it. Her feet pounded upon the hard-packed dirt as she drew nearer and nearer to her only sweet child.

As she reached Aimee, Maddie flung herself to her knees and enveloped the girl in a hug. Aimee trembled, cried, as she clasped her little arms about Maddie’s neck and squeezed as if nothing else mattered. Nothing else did.

For timeless seconds, no one moved, no one said a word. Maddie felt her happy tears mingle with those of her daughter. Their cries punctuated the night’s silence.

“
Oh, thank goodness!” Maddie sobbed. “I worried so much. Are you well?”

She grasped Aimee’s shoulders and pushed back long enough to look at her daughter’s smudged, dirty face. One of the girl’s braids had come loose. She had scrapes on both knees, but to Maddie, the child had never been a more welcome sight.

“
Mama, I got a hurt ankle and I’m hungry.”

Maddie frowned. “Your ankle? Which one, sweeting?”

Aimee held out her left foot. Maddie took the ankle in her hands to examine. It did, indeed, appear swollen. Squeezing it earned her a yelp from the girl.

“
We found ‘er in an alley, all curled up with a kitten and given’ ‘erself a proper cry,” said Molly. “Said she tripped and fell trying to dodge an angry bloke on a horse.”

The fear of what might have been made Maddie’s heart stop for a moment, but she drew Aimee close again, held her dear baby. She relished the fact that once the girl’s ankle healed, all would be right with her.

“
Thank you,” she said to Molly, feeling a resurgence of tears. “Thank you so much for finding her.”

Molly scratched her head, looking oddly embarrassed. “Me own mum would be worried fer me too, if I was lost. ‘Tweren’t nothin’ to findin’ her.”

Maddie disagreed. Finding Aimee had been a miracle.

“
You did a great thing,” Brock assured Molly. “Far more than nothing.”

In silent agreement, Maddie lifted Aimee’s little body against her own and stood, holding her tight. “Don’t you ever run off again, young lady. You scared me!”

“
I’m sorry,” the girl muttered, eyes downcast.

While Maddie was still steeped in the need to hold her child close, Brock counted out twenty sovereigns and handed them to Molly. “Thank you. We’re very grateful.”

The candle girl’s brown eyes grew saucer wide. “Cor, me mum won’t have to worry ‘bout payin’ for the roof over our heads for the rest of the year. Thank ye!”

“
Where’s our share?” asked a lanky boy.

“
Aye, where is it?” demanded another of Molly’s friends.

As the East End children began debating about how to split their new fortune, Maddie peered at Brock.

“
I had twenty sovereigns to give them,” she said. “You needn’t have put yourself out on that score. Let me reimburse you for that at least.”

“
No.” His tone was completely unyielding.

“
But I owe—”

“
Maddie, you need the coin far more. Let me help. The money brought back your daughter, so I was happy to give it.”

She acknowledged his gesture with a small incline of her head. “Thank you.”

Within moments, Molly handed the other four children one sovereign each. “That’s wot I promised, so that’s wot ye get.”

The poor children muttered a few colorful words, but capitulated and accepted the sum. Quickly, they each scattered in a different direction, Maddie presumed toward home.

Only Molly remained beside her, Brock, and Aimee

“
Your mother will be very proud of you for doing such a good deed,” Maddie said.

“
She’ll be happy ‘bout the blunt,” Molly corrected. “Now maybe I’ll be eatin’ supper every night.”

Molly sounded cheered by the prospect. Maddie was appalled. No matter how destitute she’d known herself to be, she had never been so poor that she’d had to deny Aimee a meal. And poor Molly stood here, all elbows and knees, joyful about the prospect of supper?

She and Brock exchanged glances. He nodded, then turned his attention to Molly.

“
Speaking of which, why don’t you let us feed you? You certainly missed supper tonight while you searched for Aimee.”

Molly shook her head at Brock. “Thank ye, Guv, but I’m needin’ to get home to me mum and show her all this coin. We’ll both eat for sure tonight.”

With that, Molly skipped off toward the tenement that was undoubtedly her home. As night swallowed the girl up, distress mixed with the exultation inside Maddie.

“
That poor child,” she murmured.

He shrugged. “It’s what East Enders know.”

Maddie wondered how Brock knew that.

As they began walking, Aimee in Maddie’s arms, she noted Brock still looking in the direction of Molly’s departure. Though remote, something about his expression looked pained, haunted.

“
We must find a hack,” he said, profile stiff.

Maddie nodded, and they began walking toward the busier Whitechapel Road, where they would certainly find some means of transport. She found him looking back toward Molly again.

“
Did you grow up here, Brock?” she asked impulsively.

Maddie had long suspected Brock was Whitechapel bred. Five years ago, however, he had refused to tell her of his home, of his past. And she knew she should not have asked now. He would likely be as stubborn and private today as he had been before. After the manner in which he had helped and supported her tonight, she knew it was not fair to barge in on the pain of his childhood, whatever it was.

“
I’m sorry,” she began. “You don’t have to—”

“
Yes,” Brock cut in. He drew his hands into fists as he walked beside her. “I grew up here.”

It seemed odd to Maddie that she should want to thank Brock for his confession, but somehow she did. Before she could, Brock shook his head and sent a kind stare to Aimee.

“
I’ll wager you’re cold and hungry, young lady,” he said to her daughter, to their daughter, with a manufactured smile.

Aimee did not know the difference. She nodded, then rubbed her little gray eyes with a dirty hand. “I’m hungry. I want gingabread.”

“
Gingerbread?” Brock murmured above Aimee.

Maddie nodded.

“
Sweeting, I did not make any gingerbread today. What do you say we go home and grab some quick bits of bread and cheese. We can bake gingerbread tomorrow together, you and I.”

“
Nnnooo,” she wailed and rubbed her eyes again. “I want gingabread.”

A pair of prostitutes walked by, smelling of perfume and gin. They eyed Brock, who ignored them. A hulk of a man passed to their left.

Maddie clasped Aimee close, wishing in that moment she could always protect the girl, give her everything her heart desired, as well as the meal and the bed the girl needed. Both would be hours away, unfortunately.

“
I’m sorry, sweeting. Mama doesn’t have any now.” As she held Aimee against her as they walked the dark, stench-filled streets, Maddie was conscious of how much the girl had grown, and hugged her warm little body. “Put your head on Mama’s shoulder. Perhaps Mr. Taylor can help us find a way back to his office, so we can take another adventure on the pony back home.”

“
Maddie, you can’t mean to go home tonight. It’s too far.”

She peered up into Brock’s scowl. Beyond the irritation, the moonlight illuminated his concern—a great deal of it.

“
Aimee needs a bed and food. I—”

“
I can get her those things.”

While Maddie knew Brock was right, she wondered why he would care. Why would he volunteer to help Aimee and seem insistent about doing so?

A pack of older children ambled by with hard expressions, passing around a bottle. One of them took a sip and spit it out very near Maddie’s feet.