The next morning after spending some time with Austen in the nursery, Alice went to the small office of the Housing Society she oversaw. She was deep in budget matters, when her assistant popped her head in. “There’s a gentleman here to see you.” She handed Alice a card.
Alice took it from her. Nicholas Tennent. President. Tennent & Co.
The card was on high quality paper and the letters printed with understated elegance. She set down the card, trying to ignore the sudden flutter of nerves. Since issuing her invitation yesterday, she’d been of two minds about this meeting. “Send him in, please.”
Mr. Tennent entered and once again Alice marveled at how distinguished he looked. She couldn’t help a sense of proprietary pride that she had known all along that he’d make his mark in the world. She stood and held out her hand. “I’m so glad you could stop by today. I know you must be very busy.”
His hand enveloped hers and gave it a quick, firm shake. His dark eyes appraised her. She had the sense that he missed very little.
“Please, won’t you have a seat?”
“Actually, I’d be more interested in seeing your facility and looking at some of the projects you’ve undertaken.”
“Of course.” She could see he wasn’t a man to waste time. “Come then, I’ll give you a quick tour and then perhaps we could look at a group of houses we have constructed in Bethnal Green.”
“I look forward to it.” The two exited her office and she led him down the corridor. “When did you first move into these quarters?”
“About two years ago. When I first came back to London, I was a bit at sea. Austen, of course, was very young, and I spent most of my time with him. But he had his nurse, and I found I had too much time on my hands. It…made things worse.” She didn’t like to recall those lonely weeks, feeling so out of place in her parents’ old home. She sighed, brushing away the memories. “I had been very active with my husband in his parish, so little by little, I began informing myself of the situation here in London. This is a much bigger place, so at times the situation of the needy can seem overwhelming. That’s when I decided to focus on one area where I might be able to help.
“I met a woman—Macey Endicott—who was very involved with the housing question. She is a remarkable woman. I hope you will meet her. She is on the Society’s board of trustees. It was she who encouraged me to use my influence in society—” she gave a disbelieving laugh “—whatever little influence I had left, to help raise awareness of the situation.”
He raised an eyebrow as if in surprise. “Little influence? What I saw the night of the gala showed me a lady of great influence.”
She shook her head. “Four years ago, I would say I had very little. I had been away from London society for many years.”
His eyes remained on her. “But you seem to have overcome that drawback.”
“Perhaps. If so, it was due in great part to Miss Endicott. She is quite a champion of women and their rights.” She shook her head with a smile. “She is quite respected, being wealthy in her own right, and by virtue of her many publications on such subjects as the reform of women’s education and women’s suffrage.”
Alice watched him as he listened carefully, asking questions from time to time. She showed him the rest of their small quarters. He appeared interested in every detail.
When they stood outside on the curb, he hailed a hansom for them. “I notice there were only women in your office. Is that deliberate?”
She nodded, surprised that he’d noticed. “In a sense. You see, there are very few options for a woman who finds herself either widowed or single with no means of her own. A woman depends wholly on her parents or on a husband to support her, but you’d be surprised at the number of women who have neither alternative.
“I wanted to be able to offer some type of employment for women in this situation. Some of these women have children and it becomes even more challenging for them to find decent care for them. That is why you’ll frequently find a child or two playing quietly by his mother’s desk.”
“My mother would have benefited from women such as you.”
A hansom pulled up at Mr. Tennent’s summons.
He handed her up into the cab and then came up to sit beside her. There was little room on the seat and her skirt brushed against his trouser legs. She made a show of adjusting her gown in the small space, suddenly conscious of his nearness, and attempted to continue her discourse. “One of my dreams is to offer a facility here under our roof as a nursery. Perhaps rent the floor above us for such a venture.” She turned and slid open the hatch in the back and gave the driver instructions.
Mr. Tennent raised an eyebrow. “Shoreditch?”
When she turned from the hatch, she found his face very close to hers. She moved back a fraction then chided herself for her sensitivity. “I wanted to show you some of the housing that has been built over the years for the working classes and compare it with what we’ve done. The area around Spitalfields and Shoreditch has grown enormously and there is a terrible lack of adequate housing. It’s also a railroad terminus which results in very mixed neighborhoods from lower middle class to very lower class.”
The cab turned sharply at a corner and she was thrown against Mr. Tennent. Before she could right herself, he reached up a hand to steady her. “Tha—thank you.” She adjusted her hat to conceal her confusion. What was wrong with her?
“It’s quite all right.” She could feel his glance on her but his words revealed nothing out of the ordinary. “Would it cost so much?”
She’d lost the thread of their conversation. “To what?”
“To fix up a room for your female employees’ children.”
“Oh. Yes, it would. That would mean fewer funds available for our building projects. Presently, almost all donations we receive are used to help people with their housing. That need is most pressing of all.” She shifted into her corner seat in preparation for another turn. “Tell me how it is in America. Are there such frightful conditions among the working classes?”
He described the cities he had seen. She listened, studying his three-quarter profile, finding herself remembering how drawn she’d been to him so many years ago. The strong lines had matured into the face of a very striking gentleman. His jaw was cleanly shaven. He hadn’t really changed much over the years, but there was a cragginess to the lean contours of his face. The slight diffidence she remembered was gone but in its place was a subtle irony. It reminded her of her father, and she recoiled from the thought.
“Overcrowding exists in many workmen’s neighborhoods but there is much industry and mobility.” He glanced beyond her at the passing streets. “London has certainly grown since I was last here. Not that it wasn’t a busy place then.”
“Yes, it has seen unprecedented growth. No other city comes close, even your New York City.”
“New York is a remarkable city.”
“I should like to see it some day.”
His dark eyes turned to her. “Perhaps you will.”
Why did she feel there was more to his words than his light tone implied? She shook aside her fanciful notion. “I doubt it…at least not any time in the near future.”
“You sound so very certain.”
She folded her gloved hands on her lap. “I have my work here. And Austen is young still.”
“When you were a girl, you struck me as someone who would seek the kind of adventure found in travel.”
Her smile was bittersweet. “Yes, I was full of dreams.”
“Haven’t any of them been fulfilled?”
Was it whimsy or gravity she read in his tone—or irony? “Not in the way I had foreseen,” she answered carefully.
“What had you foreseen?”
How could she answer that? That she’d foreseen a future with him? “A place to belong,” she finally said, looking past him. So many years of yearning for what she’d never found in her home.
When he said nothing, she risked a glance at him. A furrow had formed between his brows. “Didn’t you find that?”
“Oh, yes. But not where I had imagined.” She took a deep breath. “It took a very humble, patient man to show me that it was only to be found in the Lord, that He loved me no matter how unlovable I might consider myself.”
Before she could discover if he had understood what she meant, they arrived at their destination. Mr. Tennent descended the cab and turned to give her his hand. She stepped onto the broken pavement, still feeling the firmness of his hand after he’d let go and turned to the driver.
He paid the man and instructed him to wait for them then turned to survey the neighborhood. In the distance they could hear the rumble of trains.
They walked along a street lined with small shops. “We’re not far from the Great Eastern Goods Station.”
“This area looks fairly prosperous.” He sniffed the air, which had a yeasty smell to it.
“There’s a large brewery a few blocks to the east of us.” She led him down Commercial Street. “There are quite some shops and warehouses along here due to the railroad station.” As they continued farther, the storefronts and buildings became more varied. “You’ll see how things begin to deteriorate the more distant from the station.”
She turned down a narrow side street. Here, the buildings were clearly more dingy, many in a state of disrepair. Children of all ages ran and played in the streets, despite the traffic of wagons and drays. The scent of brewer’s yeast grew stronger.
She indicated a row of two-story brick buildings. “The London Building Society put up this row of dwellings, but already the tenants have complained of countless problems. Partitions separating the individual dwellings are less than a full brick length, which leads to noise traveling through, not to mention the more serious problem of water leakage. Shoddy bricks are used, hollow ones which are cheaper, of course, but also ones that crumble easily over time.”
She stopped in front of one dwelling, where rubbish was piled in the front. “No foundation has been laid, or worse, the existing gravel is hauled away and sold, and rubbish is used to fill the holes. You can imagine what happens over time.”
“The building begins to sink.”
“Yes. Many of these buildings were put up ten or twenty years ago when there was such a clamor for housing, and speculators bought up the land and quickly put up dwellings. It’s only now that the problems are manifesting.” She pointed to a roofline. “See how it sags? Too few scantlings in the rafters.”
He smiled. “You seem as knowledgeable as a builder.”
“I’ve learned over time. Our Society has put up some buildings in the last few years, and I wanted to be sure they would be sturdy and well-ventilated. We’ll go there next, so you can compare the difference.”
They turned a corner and the area became grimmer. Here, the houses were much older, their brick exteriors dilapidated. Several idlers lounged on the broken front stoops. Windows were boarded up. Piles of refuse filled the narrow, muddy street. Mr. Tennent stopped at the sight of a group of dirty-faced men standing nearby. “Perhaps we should turn back.”
She hesitated. “Yes, I just wanted to show you how quickly the neighborhoods degenerate. Here, you see men who are habitually unemployed. The only activity is drinking.” As she took a step back, she noticed one of the men eyeing her.
Before she could take another step back, he sauntered over to her. “Wot are the toff doin’ in our neighborhood, I’d like to know?” He spat, just missing their feet by inches. His grimy shirt was pulled half out of his trousers and his vest was missing buttons. He carried a half-empty gin bottle in one hand.
Mr. Tennent took her lightly by the elbow and began to back away.
The man was quicker than he looked. He circled around them. “My, aren’t we the fancies.”
In a few seconds they found themselves surrounded by a group of ill-featured men. The acrid smell of sweat mingled with the pasty smell of yeast.
Mr. Tennent stopped and eyed them. “We didn’t mean to intrude on your private turf, gentlemen,” he said politely.
The man snapped his suspenders back and guffawed. “Our turf.” He turned to the others. “How d’ye like that, eh? Our turf? That’s wot hit is, awright.” He swaggered up and took hold of one of Mr. Tennent’s lapels. “I like the feel o’ this coat. Feels pretty foine to me, hit does.”
Alice began to pray silently. She eyed the rest of the men nervously.
Before she could decide what to do, the man flipped out a knife from his belt. Alice jerked back.
He brandished the knife before Mr. Tennent’s face. “I think I’ll have this coat.” He brought the knife up to his jawline.
A soft cry escaped her lips. The sound distracted the man and he turned to her. “Foine lady we ’ave ’ere.”
She shrank back and experienced an instant’s reassurance as Mr. Tennent’s hold on her arm tightened. Her fear returned as she realized how impossibly outnumbered he was.
The man’s unshaven jaw came to within inches of hers, his foul breath fanning across her face.
She prayed even more.
Nick judged the distance between himself, the knife, and the malodorous fellow threatening Mrs. Lennox.
He pressed her elbow an instant to reassure her then moved a step. “Leave the lady alone, or aren’t you man enough to face me?” he said, infusing his look and tone with scorn.
The man’s attention swung immediately back to him, his stubbly cheeks deepening in color and his broken-toothed leer fading. “Why you—” The knife swung out, but Nick was ready for him. In a deft movement, he grabbed the man’s bony wrist.
As he’d calculated, his hold wasn’t as firm as it had appeared, the alcohol probably giving the man more confidence than warranted. Nick easily pulled his arm up and over, spinning him around and bending him double. The knife and bottle fell to the muddy ground. “Pick up the knife, Alice.” Keeping his tone quiet but commanding, he held the man’s arm up at a painful angle. Half-starved wretch. Nick had met many like him in his early days on the road.
With a push strong enough to put him out of commission until they left the area but not enough to seriously hurt him, Nick shoved him to the ground and kept a foot between his shoulder blades. He turned to Alice, relieved to find she had done as he’d asked. She held the knife as if it were a snake. He took it from her by the blade then brandished it slowly to the ring of men. “Anyone else care to have a go?”
They all backed away from him a few steps.
“We meant no disrespect entering your neighborhood. This lady runs a charity to build decent housing for men like you and their families.”
The men began mumbling denials that they’d meant no harm and bowed to Mrs. Lennox.
One of the men shuffled his feet, not quite meeting Nick’s eyes. “Charlie there was just sportin’ wif you.”
“Well, we’ll call it even then.” With his free hand, Nick dug into his pocket and fished out some coins, all the while keeping the knife pointed up. “Here, if anyone is in need of a hot meal.” Was it a hopeless wish that they wouldn’t spend it at the nearest tavern? But he couldn’t leave them with nothing. He knew what it was like to be hungry.
They grouped around him eagerly and he made sure that each one got something. With a hand to the brim of his hat, he finally backed away from them, taking Mrs. Lennox firmly by the elbow.
When they arrived on Commercial Street with its busy traffic, he stopped and turned to her, only now allowing the tension to drain from him. “Are you all right?”
She brought a shaky hand to her cheek and gave a jerky laugh. “The question is, are you?”
Amazed that she could think of him, he glanced at the knife he still held upside down by the haft. “Remember, I’m armed now.” He looked around him but seeing nowhere to dispose of the knife, he stuck it in his belt, under his coat. “I’ll get rid of this when we’re far from here.”
“Yes, please do.” Her voice sounded shaky.
He tipped her chin up with a fingertip, permitting himself to study her face more closely. “Let me take you somewhere for a cup of tea.”
Her eyes met his. “No…I’m quite…all right. Let me recover a moment.” She took a step back and he let her go immediately, wondering if he had overstepped his bounds. “Do you think the hansom is still waiting for us?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it. Come, if you’re up to walking a block further. We should get away from here, at any rate.”
“Oh, yes.” She immediately began to move. He hurried to catch up with her and put his hand on her elbow once again. She felt fragile beneath his light grip. He thanked God that they’d escaped the ugly situation. If anything had happened to her—
It was only then he recollected he’d called her Alice. Would she remember? Would she be offended?
She turned to him with a rueful smile. “I do apologize for bringing you here. It was not my intention to put your life in danger. You must think us far more uncivilized than Americans if as soon as you arrive you are threatened by a bunch of drunk idlers.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He frowned at her. “I’m more concerned that you should ever come to parts like this on your own.”
“We usually come in groups. And I don’t make it a habit of going into the worst neighborhoods, but as you can see, sometimes it’s only a matter of turning down one street corner.”
His brow knit, thinking of her exposed to such dangers in the course of her work.
“I’m still marveling at how quickly you disabled that man.”
He was more amazed at how quickly she’d discounted the risk to herself. “It wasn’t so difficult. He was drunk, as well as emaciated by hunger. His grip was actually feeble. Any able man could have disarmed him.”
“Still, he had the knife, and he was surrounded by so many.”
“I’ve met more than my share of poor unfortunates consumed by drink and hopelessness. I’ve learned it’s often the ringleader one must disable and the rest prove harmless.”
She gave a disbelieving laugh. “Have you been in many such situations before?”
“Some. But the same tactics often hold true in business.”
They arrived at the hansom and he helped her up. As they rode away from the area, she turned to him. “You called me Alice back there.”
She had noted it. He tried to read her expression. “I’m sorry. I suppose I wasn’t thinking clearly at that moment.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for.” She looked down at her lap. “In a way it seems we’ve known each other for a very long time, although in truth, we’ve barely had a chance to become acquainted.”
He felt a spurt of hope. “Perhaps we shall have an opportunity now.”
She smiled, the sweet, angelic, beautiful smile he remembered. “I feel we could be friends again,” she said slowly.
She had said “friend.” Did that mean there was hope of nothing more? He cleared his throat, hesitating. “Would you mind very much if I called you Alice…and you called me Nicholas—or Nick?” He waited, hardly realizing he held his breath.
“No.” Her voice was whispery soft. “I’d like that.”
“Very well…Alice.”
The shy look in her eyes made her look seventeen again. “Pleased to renew the friendship, Nicholas.”
He liked the sound of his name on her lips, even as he yearned for their friendship to deepen into something more. Had he waited too long? He found it a miracle—a godsend—that she was free after so many years. He didn’t even care at the moment that her heart had been given to an idealistic young curate, if only there was the possibility of a future with her.
She was a woman like no other, and he was determined in that moment to make her his own.
“If you still have time, I’d like to show you some of the terrace houses we’ve built.”
He blinked, disconcerted that her train of thought had taken a completely different turn. “I thought after our run-in, we could go someplace for a cup of tea.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I’m quite recovered now, thank you. Do you have time for one more visit, this time as far as Bethnal Green?”
She sounded so hopeful he didn’t have the heart to turn her down. In truth, he had many pressing things to do at his office that morning, but at the moment, all he wanted was to prolong his time at this woman’s side.
“Yes, of course. That is why I came, after all.” Not the whole truth, but that could wait. He already felt the years slip away and much territory regained since he’d first met her. At her answering smile, he sat back, content for the moment to steal glances at her soft profile while the hansom bumped along.
Alice. Even her name mouthed in silence was nectar, and he savored the syllables on his tongue.
Alice took Nicholas—even pronouncing the syllables to herself caused a blush to steal over her—to the working class suburb just to the northeast of London. She waved to a line of two-story row houses along one side of a quiet street.
“Our society was responsible for this construction. They are four-room dwellings as you can see, with plenty of windows for ventilation.” They walked down the paved sidewalk as she pointed out the features. “We used the latest construction methods, including plenty of running water and toilets—radical fixtures according to many, but why should the poor live with things the rest of us are taking for granted?”
She waited for his reaction, but he said nothing, appearing to study the plain facades.
“You see they are well-kept.”
He nodded. “No rubbish in the streets.” Children played on the pavement. A few stopped their game to stare at them.
Alice walked up to the door of one dwelling and rang the bell. “Let me see if Mrs. Brown is at home. Then perhaps you can see the inside of one of these.”
A red-cheeked woman in her twenties, holding a baby in her arms, answered the door. A smile broke out on her face at the sight of Alice. “Oh, Mrs. Lennox, what a pleasure.”
“Hello, Mrs. Brown. I have brought an old friend from America. I wanted to show him some of the houses the Society has built. Would you mind very much showing us your home?”
The woman moved inside. “Oh, not at all, madam. Come right in. Would you like a cup o’ tea?”
“No, thank you, we don’t want to trouble you.”
The woman led them from a small front parlor to the kitchen at the rear of the house, where a toddler sat playing on the floor. She showed them a narrow back garden where a scullery was located. Then they climbed a staircase to the upper floor and ducked their heads into two small bedrooms, one facing the street, one facing the back.
Nicholas turned to Mrs. Brown as they walked back down the stairs. “How many children do you have living here with you?”
“Four, sir.” She smiled proudly. “The two oldest be at school now. They’ll be along shortly.”
He nodded.
Alice smiled and held her hand out to the woman. “Well, thank you ever so much, Mrs. Brown.” She tweaked the baby’s cheek. “How big she’s grown since the last time I saw her.”
Mrs. Brown beamed. “Yes, that she ’as.”
“How is your husband?”
“Oh, Jerry’s ever so well. He found work at the railroad just up the road.”
“Well, let me know if you need anything.”
Nicholas shook her hand at the door. “Thank you for showing us your home.”
“That’s quite all right. We be ever so grateful to Mrs. Lennox for ’avin’ put such a good roof over our ’eads.”
They walked back down the steps. Alice chanced a glance at Nicholas’s profile. He appeared deep in thought. So long accustomed to thinking of him as Mr. Tennent, his first name made her feel like a schoolgirl again, as if she were breaking the rules somehow.
“You can see the difference, can you not? Although both neighborhoods hold families earning very low wages, anywhere from eighteen shillings a week to twenty or twenty-one. And that is when they can find work. Mr. Brown, for example, was unemployed when I first met Mrs. Brown.”
“How did you meet her?”
“I was working at a mission run by Miss Endicott, the lady I mentioned to you earlier. They offer food and temporary shelter to unemployed people.”
He glanced at her. “This woman seems to have had a profound influence on you.”
She tilted her head. “In a sense. I believe, more, that she offered me an outlet to make myself useful after I was widowed and had come back to London to live. Julian was my true inspiration.”
He said nothing.
“He had a servant’s heart. He wasn’t afraid to go into any quarter where there was a soul in need.” She sighed, feeling the familiar sense of unworthiness whenever she thought of him. “It was probably on such a mission of mercy that he contracted the tuberculosis that eventually killed him.”
“You are carrying on his work.”
It was a statement not a question, she realized. She pondered it as they made their way down the sidewalk past the row of terrace houses. “In a sense. Being his helpmate opened my eyes to the futility of my father’s way of life.”
He raised his eyebrows in question.
“Living to make a profit.”
“You find that futile?”
“It’s all Father ever cared about.” She smiled sadly. “He suffered a heart attack a year ago and his work was over. There was nothing of it he could take with him. Julian’s life, on the other hand, had a sense of eternal purpose.”
“But your work would not go forward without the help of those whose purpose is to make a profit.”
She pursed her lips. “I suppose you are right. But I’m glad I am not of their ranks.”
He helped her back into the hansom and once he’d seated himself beside her, asked, “Where to now?”
Afraid she’d taken up too much of his time already, she laughed. “I imagine you have had enough of London neighborhoods. You can drop me off at the Society. Thank you for coming with me this morning.” Once again his rescue filled her heart with relief and admiration. He had certainly come a long way from the secretary whom she’d taught tennis and horseback riding. The tables had somehow been reversed, and it was she who now felt in his debt.
“It was my pleasure. It was most informative. I was serious about making a donation. That’s one of the reasons I’ve come back to London.”
She looked down at her clasped hands, remembering his bravery. “You were very kind to those men back there. It was generous of you to give them something.” She felt a deep sense of relief that he was not, after all, cut from the same mold as her father.
“It doesn’t mean I believe in simply giving a handout. It’s not the answer.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “It depends on the individual case. In this case, it was generous of you, all the same.”
When they reached her building, he accompanied her to the door. “Are you sure I can’t take you somewhere for a cup of tea?”
She held out her hand with a smile. “Thank you, but no. There are things I need to do, and I’ve taken too much of your time already. I truly am grateful that you came with me today. Perhaps you can visit us again some time.”
“I should like that, Alice.” The words were spoken quietly, but the way he was looking at her made her think he meant more than merely a visit to the charity.
She inclined her head a fraction, wondering whether to leave the invitation open-ended or make it specific.
“You used to do that.”
She smiled. “What?”
“Tilt your head like that. Like a wood nymph deciding if it wants to flicker its golden wings and flitter away.”
She laughed, delighting in the fanciful imagery. “I never suspected you of being poetic.”
“I’m not. It is only you who brings me to any flights of fancy.”
Now, the look was unmistakable. She glanced away and tried to keep her tone light. “I’m surprised you remember such a detail about me.”
“I remember a lot of things.”
“Do you still play tennis?” she asked to change the course of the conversation.
“I do.”
Her eyes widened.
“You find that surprising?”
“I suppose I imagined you too busy with your business to leave you any time for trivial pursuits.”
“I have been. But I found the time to continue with the game. Don’t forget, you were the one to challenge me to look beyond the world of finance.” He grinned, erasing the years between them. “I wanted to be able to hold my own with you on the tennis court and on the chess board.” He looked sheepish. “Did you know I even paid for extra tennis lessons when I returned to London?”
Her eyes widened. “You did? And I never knew…” She laughed aloud, feeling lighthearted all of a sudden.
He joined in her laughter.
Then she said on the spur of the moment, “Would you like to come back out to Richmond on a weekend? We could have a match. Or, a re-match, should I say?” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry. Perhaps that place holds unpleasant memories for you.”
“Not at all. Why should it?”
“Because of your riding accident…and my father.”
“No, I have no bad memories of Richmond.” His voice was quiet, his gaze warm.
“I’m glad. Let me know when you’d like to come out.”
“Would this weekend be too soon?”
It was too soon. Once again, apprehension filled her. Things were moving too quickly. But she found herself saying, “Not at all. The weather is too hot to stay in London anyway. We can take the train out. I like to get out of the city for Austen’s sake.”
“You said he was frail.”
She looked away and nodded.
“Very well. This weekend then.”
“We can ride out Friday evening if you’d like,” she told him. “I generally take the five o’clock train out of Victoria. I shall invite Miss Endicott as well. I’d love for you to meet her.”
“Very well. I’ll meet you at the station.” Once again, the look in his brown eyes said more. But she chose to ignore it as the fancy of a sixteen-year-old girl who no longer existed.