“Don’t say grateful,” he warned her, his lips twitching.
“I’m thankful I met you,” she finished.
“Yes. I recall it well. You purposefully stumbled into my path so you could meet me.”
Audrey bit back a smile. “Purposefully stumbled?” She shook her head. “Who does that?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You apparently.”
She chuckled. “No. I think more accurately it was I was walking in the park, minding my own business, when you rudely came into my path and knocked into me.”
“Knocked into you?” he asked.
“If I can purposefully stumble, you can rudely knock into me,” she explained.
Henry watched her in the shadow of the night. “I remember your face that day in the park. You were so lovely. Like something carved out of marble by Michelangelo. Perfect.” He reached out to touch her cheek with the back of his hand. It was like silk.
“Henry,” she said suddenly, taking a step back from him.
“I like that.”
“What?” She frowned.
“My name on your lips…. Audrey?”
“Yes?”
“It will be all right. There are good times. There are bad times. And neither lasts forever.”
Wise words indeed. “Good night.”
“Sleep well.”
The next afternoon, Audrey received a note from Henry. The doctor at Bethel would be able to see her mother the following day. She was so relieved at the thought of a trained person diagnosing her mother. She had willed herself not to worry until she knew something for certain.
She was grateful for his support and for Theodocia welcoming her into their world. She had found the workhouse very alien in the beginning, and it had been difficult. But with their support, she had felt more at home and at ease.
If she were honest, and she tried to be, she felt a deep longing when she was with Henry. He had a quiet way about him she found appealing, and he spoke about items he knew and topics he was well-versed in. He wasn’t a braggart or know-it-all as some men were, and she found herself growing fond of him.
However, there was no chance of anything happening between them. Though he seemed to enjoy her company and found her attractive, there was a class difference. As Della pointed out, he was a solicitor, and she was a schoolmistress. An ocean divided them. She must not accept anything beyond friendship.
After class was complete, she took Frances home and then stopped to see her friend Marguerite. The old woman had not had an easy time of it since her companion had died, and Audrey tried to check on her several times a week.
She knocked on the door and entered the room, but no one was about. She saw a shawl thrown over the chair, a book on its side on her bed, and a tin of biscuits next to the book.
She suddenly spotted a notebook on the floor next to the bed and picked it up. She didn’t know why, but she opened the book and saw that it was a diary of sorts. She glanced behind her, but no one was there. She admonished herself. She should not be reading anyone else’s private thoughts. She placed it aside and looked over at the tin.
Peek, Frean & Co’s Superior Biscuits decorated in red and gold beckoned to her, and when she opened the tin, she found nothing inside. She closed it and sat down upon the bed. She glanced at the diary once and then shook her head. She should return home to the cottage.
She rose, and taking a step, she picked up the diary and sat back down. What was she doing? The name Marguerite was scrawled along the first page and then dates began to appear. The first date was over a year and a half ago, and she frowned as she read the words.
2. MB and LC
The next page was much the same, but this time, it said three and had three sets of letters. There were several pages of this with dates and initials. Audrey shrugged. Marguerite must owe people money or perhaps they owed her. The number meant shillings most likely. She turned the page and saw the same thing. Numbers and initials.
But in the middle of the diary, it changed. There were no more numbers and initials, but instead, the old woman was writing. But the writing made less sense than the previous pages.
I have been watching when no one else is. I see what no one else sees. I must keep myself safe unless they guess. Things are not what they seem. I keep my door locked at night.