Chapter Three
T
he Redcake’s drama settled down. Lewis spent a day repairing the kneading machines that allowed the bakers to nap an extra hour in the middle of the night, and then another day fixing a broken bank of ovens. He had to go back to his shop to fabricate replacement parts for the mixers after that, but assured Judah he would return soon.
Alfred Melville had explained that these and other Lewis Noble inventions were what allowed him to hire the best bakers in London. Without them they were just another bakery, and most bakers didn’t live to be old because the work was so demanding. Since they didn’t work them so hard at Redcake’s, they had more experienced men.
Judah had seen the look of relief on the men’s faces as Lewis put away his tools late on Wednesday, and could well believe Melville. While his army experience had taught him not to be a big believer in leisure time that didn’t revolve around hunting parties, given the trouble men could get into, he did understand the value of adequate sleep.
Gawain Redcake had given him a day of his time, imparting a lot of details about the finances of Redcake’s, though nothing more about Mark Cross. He spoke a great deal about the health benefits of ingesting Indian herbs. Judah found him to be a more commanding character than he remembered. His battle wounds had brought out an acerbic part of his personality.
On Friday, Judah decided to visit the Cross family in the midafternoon, after having sent a note in the morning post to warn them he might do so. After verifying with Ewan Hales that it was safe for him to be out of the office for part of the afternoon, he set off on the half hour walk to the Cross home. He found the house on a failing court, on the other side of the Strand from his own comfortable cottage.
The Crosses needed fresh paint and a new roof soon. The niceties had been tended however, in a clean step and a pot of violets next to the door. Had this area ever been good enough for gentry? The Cross family were related to earls. Someone must have gambled away their funds. Or squandered the money in other ways.
He knocked on the door. A maid-of-all-work opened it, still holding her feather duster next to her dirty apron.
“Can I ’elp you, please, sir?”
“Captain Judah Shield to see Miss Magdalene Cross.” He held out his new card, a replacement for the ones with his courtesy title.
She placed it on a little silver tray that was well polished, though the plating had worn off on the handles, and wandered down the hall to the back of the house, leaving him to stand in the entryway.
They must not receive many visitors here
.
Above his head he heard running footsteps and the high-pitched laughter of children. A male voice admonished them to be quiet, then called, “Did I hear the door?”
Judah looked up the staircase. “It is Judah Shield, to see Miss Cross.”
“Hatbrook’s brother?”
“Yes.” His gaze wandered the walls. Three ink drawings of horses caught his eye. He stepped closer, noted the individual characteristics of each beast. A talented artist had done the work.
The voice held a hint of amusement. “Well, I’ll be. Just a minute.”
Judah heard whispers ordering the children into the bedroom to play quietly, then shoes clattered on the steps. He saw long thin legs first, then the rest of the man, who approached with his hand outstretched.
“I suppose it is visiting hours, isn’t it? We don’t entertain much with my wife ill.” George Cross was a pleasant-looking fellow, with hair that desperately needed trimming. Judah wondered how his peccadilloes fit into the Scandalous Crosses.
“I am sorry. I only meant to convey some sensitive information to your sister.”
“Oh?”
“She asked me about Lieutenant Cross when I saw her earlier in the week.”
“I see. Very kind of you to offer us some comfort.” He glanced at the wall. “Like those drawings, do you? My sister did them—horses we owned when we were young.”
“Very nice.” Judah saw Miss Cross come into the hall. Her knuckles were shiny red from some kind of kitchen work. He thought he saw a burn on one wrist and could see a pearl of water by her temple. He wondered how long this girl of strikingly fresh looks could stay so pretty with what seemed to be a hard life for a lady of her class. Why had she not married instead of being an unpaid servant to her brother?
“Captain Shield,” she breathed, holding out her hand. “How kind of you to visit. Hetty is bringing us tea. George, will you join us?”
“Of course. Ought to have some kind of chaperone.”
Miss Cross’s lips upturned in an amused smile. “This house is too small for any real privacy.”
George pushed open the paneled door at the right of the hall, exposing the parlor. “You can set your hat right there, my lord, on that rack.”
“He prefers ‘Captain Shield’ now,” Miss Cross murmured.
“Oh, I see. Very good. ‘Captain Shield’ it is.” George walked into the parlor.
Judah tossed his hat on one of the open hooks and followed his host. Everything looked secondhand and out of date, but clean enough. The best feature of the room was more pen and ink drawings, plus two watercolors, one of a snowy moor, and the other of Mark Cross, looking ethereal yet competent, an angelic soldier. Judah sat on a faded red velvet chair after Miss Cross perched at the edge of a sofa. Her brother took the other side. A rough-hewn handmade table rested upon a threadbare carpet, and on that was a wooden birdcage, empty.
“How did you learn anything so quickly?” Miss Cross inquired, folding her hands over her lap. “Did another officer return from India?”
“No, but I had occasion to speak to Sergeant Redcake, who served with us until he was injured and discharged.”
“That must be a relation of yours now. You know your brother and I were at school together,” George said.
In some distant past when they had money. “Yes, my brother married the sergeant’s twin. He is an importer now, and a connection of his saw your brother in Jaipur, probably a couple of months ago.”
The maid brought in a tray with a teapot and cups and placed it next to the birdcage. While Miss Cross poured, Judah acquainted them with the Indian landscape.
“Why do you think he was there? On assignment?” George asked.
Judah decided to take the most liberal interpretation of what this Khan fellow had seen. After all, they really had no idea what was going on. “Have you ever heard the term ‘a shooting holiday’?”
“Probably not in the way you are meaning it,” Miss Cross said.
Judah took a sip of tea. It was light and fresh, probably the best the household had to offer. “It’s what the army says when men are up to a bit of espionage, to put it bluntly.”
She set down her cup, her large eyes wide. “My brother is on a shooting holiday?”
He could not help admiring her beauty, but in her brother’s presence, stayed focused. “That is my interpretation. I do not know if he resigned his commission. You would have to contact his commanding officer.”
George stroked his mustache. “I believe he hopes to become rich.”
Miss Cross nodded.
Mark had always liked luxury and certainly their family coffers could no longer provide any. “He was staying with a trader so a great deal of money is exchanging hands around him. That provides opportunities.”
Miss Cross bit her lip. “I hope he hasn’t chosen too dangerous of a lifestyle.”
He wanted to rub the small hurt away, but didn’t allow himself to move. “It depends on what kind of information he comes across.”
George frowned. “Do you know much about this trader?”
“No.” Judah wasn’t about to bring up their brother’s sexual leaning. If they didn’t already know, then they could guess without information from him. “But I do hope what little I’ve been able to share is a comfort to you.”
“Oh, it is, very much so,” said Miss Cross, biting her lip again.
Judah didn’t believe her, but her lips were dewy, sensual red. He hadn’t satisfied her at all. For himself, he felt physically uncomfortable as he reacted to her flushed appearance, but he had discharged his duty and could offer no more.
George asked after his brother and spent a pleasant ten minutes reminiscing about Eton. Judah’s military training kept him from squirming under Miss Cross’s continuing gaze, until a loud crash came from upstairs.
George glanced up. “That will be the children. I am sorry I cannot present my wife to you.”
“Under the circumstances,” murmured Judah.
“Indeed. I shall let my sister see you out, while I attend to that crashing.” He nodded at Judah and walked out.
“This is a lively household?” Judah said, crossing his legs.
“Oh yes.” Miss Cross smiled. “The boys are eight.”
Her smile made her even more attractive. She was old enough to be past her first Season, but by how much? “I have never had much contact with children, but I look forward to the experience in the spring.”
“Oh, how exciting. The marchioness?”
He nodded.
Miss Cross locked her fingers together, across her teacup. “I wanted to ask about last winter. Did you go on ‘shooting holiday’ as you put it, with my brother?”
“I am very good with languages,” Judah said, remembering the creative uses to which he had put his skill over the years. “And there were questions about the current dispositions of villages near Lahore.”
“Is my brother good with languages?”
“He can get by, but he has his own charms.”
She tapped her fingers on the cup. He could sense her nervous energy.
“I knew your brother very well,” he ventured, to let her know she could confide in him.
Her fingers tightened until they were white at the knuckles. “My family is a close one, especially with my parents gone. Tell me, Captain, will we ever see Mark again?”
“Not everyone returns from India. It is a lifestyle congenial to many.”
“England is not kind to men like him,” she said softly. “I’m glad he had a friend in you, and must hope he has found another in this trader, or at least a safe place to conduct his business.”
“I hope you do not think I was that kind of friend.” Judah puffed out his chest. Certainly he found the girl attractive, and not her brother!
Magdalene smiled. “I have no concerns on that matter, Captain.” Her fingers relaxed.
“I am relieved to hear it.” He uncrossed his legs and sat forward.
Her gentle laugh was a tinkle of bells he could listen to all day. Who would have thought such a sharp lady could make that delicate sound? “Did you know, in India, bells are used to invoke the gods, Miss Cross?”
“Oh?”
“Yes, your laugh, it reminds me of the sound that was once so familiar to me. I am pleased to find it here again in England.”
Her lips pressed together, into a mischievous smile that broke dimples on her cheeks. “You will make me self-conscious, Captain.”
“I didn’t intend to. But on that note, I should take my leave. The sounds overhead are increasing, and I must return to Redcake’s.” Indeed, a screech, worse than any cat in battle, rose into the air.
“You may rethink spending time with children,” she said, rising.
“Infants aren’t this bad,” he said uneasily.
“I hope you never discover the joys of colic, sir.” She held out her hand to him.
Some instinct led him to kiss it, just the faint brush of his lips against her reddened flesh, but when he lifted his head again, she’d lost her look of ease. He had been too familiar.
“I will see you in Trafalgar Square, perhaps?” he said, stepping away.
“I always go to Eddy when we need a paper,” she said.
“So do I. He’s a charmer.”
“Until then.” She inclined her head.
He followed her into the hall and she handed him his hat, then before he knew it, he was on the front stoop, smelling violets. A cacophony of images and words spread across his mind. The Cross household was not a placid one, yet for that moment, when Magdalene Cross had laughed, it was as if he’d entered a holy place.
August passed swiftly. Judah never ceased learning at Redcake’s. The enterprise was complex and an unending variety of special events—whether teas held in the private room, weddings catered in private homes, or religious events requiring celebration—took place. Construction on a larger private room in the building continued on as well, which rarely allowed Judah to spend time at his home. He did not see Magdalene Cross again, though he visited Eddy most mornings to pick up a
Times
. He had an abundance of pretty women to flirt with, but none of them compared favorably to her. Those dimples had him aching many a warm night.
On the final weekend of August, he caught a train south, as he’d received a note from his brother announcing their return. He had not been at Hatbrook Farm in many years and was not sure he wanted to visit, though he did want to see his sister, Lady Elizabeth, called Beth.
Traveling from London to Heathfield was a good deal easier than it had been when he left for India. The Cuckoo Line had placed train tracks so close to the Farm that he could have walked there. Since he had sent a telegram though, a carriage was waiting. Inside, he was surprised to find Great Aunt Shield, who he had thought had not left her bed in years.
“Aunt Mary,” he exclaimed, kissing her soft, powdered cheek. “What a pleasure to see you so well!”
Instead of speaking, she gave him a long, sharp gaze. “I used to think you took after your grandfather, you know.”
Judah pulled off his hat, crunching the brim in his fist. Outside, he heard the shouts of travelers calling for cabs and the thumps as cargo was tossed around. “I didn’t know I wasn’t the late marquess’s natural son until recently.”
“I know, dear. And I’ll never tell. I must say I feel like I’ve come back to life since your mother passed. Dear Alys has been having the house redecorated. It’s as if each time a chaise is re-covered in blue or cream one nail is removed from my coffin.”