she joined her apprentices, Phyllis, Mother, and Mary at the kitchen table for dinner, which Mother had held for their return. Though she tried to keep conversation over meals light and polite, it was about time the girls learned the danger inherent in being a seamstress and visiting the homes of their clients.
“Not every man is like Mr. Doncroft,” Caddy qualified after telling the girls bluntly of what had happened at Wakesdown. “But in our position, we must be cautious that we do nothing to encourage the men of a house to believe we are in any way interested in their advances. We must protect ourselves, yet we must do so with diplomacy and decorum. If we cause the man offense, we are likely to lose the business of his wife or daughter. Remember, it is for his money we work.”
“So we are to let a man do as he wishes to us?” Nan, sitting beside Caddy, leaned closer and looked up at her with wide brown eyes.
“No.” Caddy pushed loose strands of red hair back from Nan’s freckled face. “You are never to allow a man to take liberties with you.” She looked at Alice, Letty, and Phyllis to ensure they understood her words. “I would rather lose money than to see any of you harmed because you felt you must not give offense. But try, first, to politely and diplomatically extract yourself from the situation.”
Filled with dinner and with food for thought, the girls left the table to return to their work. Before Caddy could rise, Mother leaned over and rested her hand on her arm. “I hope if Dr. Stradbroke importunes you with a kiss, you don’t decide to be polite and diplomatic with him. You should kiss him back.”
Heat flared in Caddy’s cheeks. “That is quite enough of that kind of talk.”
Mother grinned and sat back in her chair.
For the rest of the evening, Caddy could not get the vision of what might have happened if Neal Stradbroke had been the one to catch her in the stairwell. No, she likely wouldn’t have been polite or diplomatic. And she probably wouldn’t have turned her face away from him.
C HAPTER S IX
W hat’s that you’re whistling?”
Neal glanced to his side. “Was I whistling?”
Johnny Longrieve puckered his lips and blew out a good imitation of the song that had been stuck in Neal’s head for two days.
He tousled the boy’s hair. “Very good.”
“What’s it called?”
“‘Springtime Brings on the Shearing.’ I learned it from a shepherd when I was a bit younger than you.”
“Will you learn it to me?” The young face littered with a few days’ beard growth shone with expectation.
Neal shifted his medical kit to his other hand, resisting the urge to correct the boy’s grammar. “Why aren’t you in school, Johnny?”
The boy shrugged. “My da didn’t see the need, but I’m too old now anyway. I got my numbers—adding and subtracting—and I can write my name. But I’m to take over driving the hackney cab when Da is too old. I’d be with him today, taking Miss Bainbridge out to Wakesdown, ’cept I had messages to carry this morning. I only go with him whenever no one needs me to deliver nothing.”
Heat prickled the back of Neal’s neck at the image that formed in his mind at the mention of the seamstress’s name. He tried to shake it off, not liking how two brief meetings with the woman had so affected him.
“Do you want to drive your father’s cab?” Neal started walking again.
Johnny, taking two steps for each of Neal’s, shrugged again. “Don’t matter. It’s what I’ve got to do, ’cause it’s what Da told me I’d do.”
Neal grunted, understanding all too well. After all, his own father had been teaching him the trade of a surveyor until . . .
“Although, I’d love me to be able to read, and to learn others to read. Maybe have a school for boys like me so they don’t have to drive cabs or clean chimneys or do what their fathers and grandfathers did.”
Neal paused on the stoop of the small, low-slung tenement of his
“Not every man is like Mr. Doncroft,” Caddy qualified after telling the girls bluntly of what had happened at Wakesdown. “But in our position, we must be cautious that we do nothing to encourage the men of a house to believe we are in any way interested in their advances. We must protect ourselves, yet we must do so with diplomacy and decorum. If we cause the man offense, we are likely to lose the business of his wife or daughter. Remember, it is for his money we work.”
“So we are to let a man do as he wishes to us?” Nan, sitting beside Caddy, leaned closer and looked up at her with wide brown eyes.
“No.” Caddy pushed loose strands of red hair back from Nan’s freckled face. “You are never to allow a man to take liberties with you.” She looked at Alice, Letty, and Phyllis to ensure they understood her words. “I would rather lose money than to see any of you harmed because you felt you must not give offense. But try, first, to politely and diplomatically extract yourself from the situation.”
Filled with dinner and with food for thought, the girls left the table to return to their work. Before Caddy could rise, Mother leaned over and rested her hand on her arm. “I hope if Dr. Stradbroke importunes you with a kiss, you don’t decide to be polite and diplomatic with him. You should kiss him back.”
Heat flared in Caddy’s cheeks. “That is quite enough of that kind of talk.”
Mother grinned and sat back in her chair.
For the rest of the evening, Caddy could not get the vision of what might have happened if Neal Stradbroke had been the one to catch her in the stairwell. No, she likely wouldn’t have been polite or diplomatic. And she probably wouldn’t have turned her face away from him.
C HAPTER S IX
W hat’s that you’re whistling?”
Neal glanced to his side. “Was I whistling?”
Johnny Longrieve puckered his lips and blew out a good imitation of the song that had been stuck in Neal’s head for two days.
He tousled the boy’s hair. “Very good.”
“What’s it called?”
“‘Springtime Brings on the Shearing.’ I learned it from a shepherd when I was a bit younger than you.”
“Will you learn it to me?” The young face littered with a few days’ beard growth shone with expectation.
Neal shifted his medical kit to his other hand, resisting the urge to correct the boy’s grammar. “Why aren’t you in school, Johnny?”
The boy shrugged. “My da didn’t see the need, but I’m too old now anyway. I got my numbers—adding and subtracting—and I can write my name. But I’m to take over driving the hackney cab when Da is too old. I’d be with him today, taking Miss Bainbridge out to Wakesdown, ’cept I had messages to carry this morning. I only go with him whenever no one needs me to deliver nothing.”
Heat prickled the back of Neal’s neck at the image that formed in his mind at the mention of the seamstress’s name. He tried to shake it off, not liking how two brief meetings with the woman had so affected him.
“Do you want to drive your father’s cab?” Neal started walking again.
Johnny, taking two steps for each of Neal’s, shrugged again. “Don’t matter. It’s what I’ve got to do, ’cause it’s what Da told me I’d do.”
Neal grunted, understanding all too well. After all, his own father had been teaching him the trade of a surveyor until . . .
“Although, I’d love me to be able to read, and to learn others to read. Maybe have a school for boys like me so they don’t have to drive cabs or clean chimneys or do what their fathers and grandfathers did.”
Neal paused on the stoop of the small, low-slung tenement of his
Similar Books
