Where Love Shines Read online

  “It will be most convenient.” She was certain he could hear the smile in her voice if he couldn’t see it on her lips.

  He turned to grope among the articles lying on a small table. When the glasses hit the floor along with several other objects, he swore under his breath. Jennifer’s instinct was to dash forward to pick them up for him, but she checked herself just in time. He found them and turned toward her with them on.

  For the first time Jenny had to restrain her impulse to gasp. ‘Dark glasses’ had been a misnomer. Dr. Halston had supplied his patient with black eye patches. Certainly they would keep out any painful light, but they would prevent Dick from seeing anything. Now she questioned her forwardness. Would he face further humiliation that would make future outings more difficult?

  She had gone this far, however, and there was no graceful way of going back. She took his arm, not as one leads the sightless, but as any lady preparing to stroll in the park on the arm of a gentleman. “Excellent. Let us proceed.” And she lifted her chin a good two inches higher—a trick that had bolstered her confidence down many a long, dark corridor in Scutari.

  Livvy grasped Dick’s other arm with both hands and gave a delighted squeal as she propelled them all forward, obviously taking no thought for the comfort of a man walking in total darkness. But her enthusiasm got them over any awkwardness Richard or Jennifer may have felt.

  Kirkham had Lady Eccleson’s closed carriage with the gold coronet on its shiny black doors waiting at the end of the walk. All the way down Oxford and Regent Streets and across The Mall Jennifer kept up a bright narrative describing the traffic and people filling the congested streets and the beauty of the autumn foliage. Beside her in the swaying carriage, Richard seemed to relax a bit.

  But when the carriage rolled between the two red-coated cavalry officers of the Royal Horse Guards facing Whitehall, she felt him stiffen again. Lieutenant Greyston would not wish to appear pitiable before any of the men with whom he had served. Nor did he wish to hear the bad news they were certain to receive, for between Jennifer’s travelogue descriptions, Livvy had chattered enthusiastically about the purpose of their mission. Now her nervousness led her to run on unchecked. “I hope you won’t be too disappointed, Dick, if we learn the worst. Jenny and I have quite faced the fact that this is a dreadfully long shot, and you must, too, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if Legend had been recovered? And if we learn the worst, then you’ll know you must look for another horse. Wouldn’t it be a fine thing to go riding in Hyde Park on a day like this? Not as fine as riding across the fields in the Midlands, of course, but quite fine. Do you ride, Jennifer? I’ve never heard you say. If we could acquire mounts, we could get up a party.” Fortunately she never paused long enough for anyone to be required to answer her.

  Inside the cool stone halls of Horse Guards, Dick pulled his black patches off along with his tall black hat. Jennifer was glad the light was relatively dim in there, for she knew he would endure severe pain rather than appear in eye patches. She led him to the desk of a red-coated duty officer. “Sir, madam.” The young man came sharply to his feet.

  “Lieutenant Richard Greyston, formerly of the 17th Lancers.” Dick halted halfway to a salute. “We’ve come to inquire about the fate of a horse at the Battle of Balaclava.”

  Jennifer was glad Richard was spared the look on the young man’s face as he shook his head. “Awful mess that was, sir. More than five hundred horses killed. But then I expect you know all that.” He glanced at Richard’s scars. “We do have one fellow here who might be able to help you. If you’d care to take a seat.” He gestured to a bench along the wall, and Jennifer moved toward it. Already she was gaining confidence in her ability to lead without propelling.

  But this time her confidence had come too soon. Richard crashed into the bench with a blow that must have been painful to his shins and then miscalculated in sitting down and half sat on the narrow wooden arm. “Take your time. Feel with the backs of your legs before sitting.” Jennifer made no attempt to keep the nannying tone out of her voice. She had learned in Scutari that it could often be her most useful tool when she wanted her words to be accepted as a matter of course.

  They waited several minutes before the long stone corridor echoed with the clipped stride of booted feet. “Greyston, my dear fellow.”

  Richard rose and turned in the direction of the speaker but did not reply. The blue-coated man clasped Richard’s outstretched hand with his left hand. Jennifer saw that his right arm hung stiffly at an awkward angle. “Don’t tell me that this scar has so ruined my beauty you don’t recognize your old captain.”

  Richard broke into the brightest smile Jennifer had yet seen from him. Truth to tell, she had seen very few. “Morris! I didn’t dare hope. You were right ahead of me when that shell exploded.”

  “Took that in my arm.” Morris jerked his head toward his right elbow. “Then Crusader went down, and I took a cutlass thrust in the head. Thought I was done for, but my wife was out there. She got me home for nursing a few days later.” He paused and looked at Dick. “That shell didn’t do much more for your beauty than the cutlass did for mine, did it? But we’re beastly lucky to be here, even if desk duty is all I’m good for now.” He gave Richard a hearty slap on the back. “What can I do for you?”

  “Trying to trace what became of my horse. You remember Legend?”

  Morris laughed. “That big black brute? How could I forget the ugliest horse in the 17th Lancers?” Then the captain turned serious. “I did see him briefly. I had crawled to a ditch at the bottom of the hill behind the guns. Thought I was done for, happy to find a peaceful spot to make my last. Then this battle-crazed horse thundered by, eyes bulging and nostrils flaring. Had the feeling he was following someone—probably an officer.”

  Morris suddenly seemed to recall Jennifer and Livvy’s presence and turned to them. “You see how it is, ladies, when a horse trained for battle loses his rider, he won’t run for safety. He’ll look for leadership—run right toward the fiercest action. Riderless horses added a blasted lot to the confusion on the field.”

  He paused and seemed to stifle a small shiver. “Strange, isn’t it, how you’ll remember a detail in the midst of all that horror? But it seemed so awful to me, the poor creature’s terror. Of course, I was certain you were done for. I don’t remember feeling nearly as bad for you as I did for your horse. I must have fainted then. Last thing I remember for several days.”

  The men continued in conversation for some minutes, but Jennifer sat back against the hard slats of the bench. She had been so hopeful. Finding Legend would have been such a boost to Dick’s morale. Instead, she had just led him into another disappointment.

  On the way back to Manchester Square, Jenny tried to ease any letdown Richard might be feeling by telling about her new volunteer teaching, about meeting the Earl of Shaftesbury, and about Joshua, the rescued climbing boy.

  Livvy listened with a puzzled look on her bright face. “How good you are, Jennifer. Of course I’m happy to take baskets to Aunt Charlotte’s deserving poor, but don’t you find spending too much time among them depressing? I must admit that I far prefer a lively party.”

  Richard, however, was quite interested. “I met the earl once when I was at Cambridge—before he was the earl. He was there to address the Student Society for Doing Good. Don’t remember much about the speech, but I recall what they said about him, that even though Ashley—as he was known then—had gone to Oxford, he was as true an Evangelical as if he had gone to Cambridge and studied under Charles Simeon.

  “I remember being surprised at how pleased he seemed by that introduction and even more surprised by how the audience cheered it. I’d had the impression that being called an Evangelical was something of an insult.”

  “I have heard Rev. Baring at All Souls referred to as an Evangelical, and he isn’t at all wanting in intelligence or decorum.” The strong urge to defend those of fervent faith startled even Jenny herself, as she hadn’t tho
ught through her own opinions on the subject yet. But she had met the earl and seen the sincerity of his faith in action. “As a matter of fact, Rev. Baring is a friend of Lord Shaftesbury. I expect that’s why the earl is speaking on behalf of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children next week at All Souls.” She turned suddenly and clasped Richard’s arm. “Dick, you must come. I’ll hear no argument. This is the very thing. And you, too, Livvy. Surely Lady Eccleson will be attending anyway.”

  “Oh, yes, Aunt Charlotte never misses any opportunity to promote a good cause.” Livvy winced. “Her tirelessness quite exhausts me. But perhaps I shall accompany her since Mama has been unwell again.”

  Jenny looked at Dick, but he made no reply. “Fine. I shall see you there.” She spoke with as much decision as if all had agreed. Even though the excursion to Horse Guards had come to nothing, she had made a start. Now she was determined to carry on full steam ahead to stir Richard to action.

  Nine

  In spite of the failure to locate Legend, the following week was one of Jennifer’s happiest since her return to London. She was up early every morning and out the door often before her parents were down to breakfast. In a burst of determination she had put her name down for the British and Foreign Bible Society, the Open Air Mission, the Christian Evidence Society, and several others. But what she enjoyed most was her teaching on Thursdays. After only one night she felt a part of the school. She was determined to make a real difference in her students’ lives. She smiled as she sailed through the door of the mission building that evening, intent on the task ahead of her.

  “Would yer like yer shoes blacked, miss?”

  Jenny stopped and blinked. The small creature standing before her in the distinctive uniform of the Shoeblack Brigade looked familiar, yet she was certain he wasn’t one of the boys she had taught last week. Certainly she wouldn’t have forgotten that shining silver-blond hair sticking straight out in every direction like mown barley after a wind storm.

  ‘“s a penny, but I’ll do it special fer ya.”

  “Of course, you may black my shoes. But no favors. I shall pay my fair share.” Jenny crossed the worn wooden floor to a chair and placed her right foot on the boot support of his box. The shoeblack took out a rag and began vigorous work on her half-boot although it didn’t really need polish. Between slaps of the cloth, he looked up with a shy smile. The blue-brown eyes under the long, pale lashes brought Jenny’s memory into focus. “Joshua! Can that really be you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, ’s me, right and true.”

  Jennifer couldn’t believe the transformation. She recalled the impact the newly formed Shoeblack Brigade had made on London during the Great Exhibition four years ago when twenty-five boys in their special uniforms had cleaned more than 100,000 pairs of shoes. And she was accustomed to the familiar sight of uniformed shoeblacks on London’s streets, but she had never given any thought as to where they came from.

  Now Mrs. Watson bustled in from supervising the volunteers in her soup kitchen. “It’s good to see you, Miss Jennifer. Didn’t our young Joshua here scrub up fine?”

  Jenny laughed. “I can’t believe he’s the same boy, Edith.”

  “Got him a lodging with the brigade just over in Lambeth, Rev. Walker did.”

  “So the boys live together?”

  Edith Watson nodded with as much satisfaction as if she personally saw to the work herself. “Fine organization, the brigades are. Take hundreds of street arabs from the worst slums, clean ’em up, put ’em in uniforms, loan ’em equipment. They keeps their earnings except for a few pennies they pays back to the brigade organizers.” She bent over to address Joshua, who was intent on his work. “And you mark my words, young man, you make the most of this opportunity. There’s many a lad out there in a fine position now who got his start as a shoeblack. You wouldn’t be the first to impress his customers so much he got offered regular employment.”

  Jennifer placed her left foot on the stand, admiring the gleam on the toe of her freshly shined boot. “Just let us teach him to read and write and calculate his numbers before you’re hiring him out to a trade, Mrs. Watson.”

  That night Jenny had a group of eight students to review the letters A and B and proceed to C and D. She was just concluding her lesson when Arthur returned to escort her home. She could see by his flushed countenance and abrupt manner that he was in a considerable hurry. “Where is your bonnet? You did bring a shawl, didn’t you?”

  As Jennifer turned to collect her things, she heard the eager question, “Would yer like yer shoes blacked? ’s only a penny.”

  Arthur took a step back from the child. “No, no. No time for that.” He fished in his pocket and withdrew a coin. “But here’s a copper for you.”

  Joshua looked uncertain. “It’s all right, Josh. When Mr. Merriott has more leisure, you can black his boots for him,” Jenny said, allowing Arthur to steer her toward the door.

  “Whatever has you so agitated, Arthur?” she asked once she was seated in the hackney cab he had kept waiting.

  “I must get back to Whitehall. It seems that we win one war only to lose two. Parliament has abolished the Central Health Board just when Shaftesbury was ready to put into effect his plan for piping clean water into London from Frensham Commons and for closing the overcrowded burial grounds inside London and opening spacious cemeteries outside the built-up areas. I have even seen his plans for a great system of underground sewers to carry London’s filth off to where it could do no harm instead of dumping it all into the Thames. Now none of it is likely to be achieved.”

  “Oh, Arthur, that’s dreadful news.” Jennifer thought of the miracles she had seen achieved in Scutari from good sanitation. “What will happen now?”

  Arthur shook his head. “We are left with a ponderous Health Department that is certain to accomplish little. And if this warm autumn weather persists, London will be visited by yet another scourge of cholera. You’ll see that I am right in this.”

  Jennifer hadn’t the least notion that he might be wrong.

  Arthur walked her briskly to her door but refused her invitation to come in.

  It was clear that Arthur’s mind was fully engaged on his work. Halfway down the walk, however, he turned. “Please tell your mother I shall call at seven o’clock Saturday to escort you both to the earl’s speech.”

  “That will be quite convenient, Arthur—if you can find time.” Her mild irony was lost on his departing back.

  Saturday evening was tangy with just a hint of approaching frost in the air. The day had been warm enough to do without coal fires, leaving the air relatively free of smoke and smog. With such an inducement from the weather, plus the arrival of her new pelisse wrap from her dressmaker, Mrs. Neville happily agreed to Arthur’s suggestion that they walk the short distance down Portland Place to All Souls. Although she would have been loath to admit that the walk would give her added opportunity to exhibit her height-of-fashion pelisse, copied directly from a Parisian doll. Made of a dark blue open-knit weave that gave the garment the look of heavy lace, the three-quarter-length wrap fell gracefully over her wide crinolined skirt. The silk of Amelia Neville’s dress added its gentle swishing to that of Jennifer’s gold and brown watered taffeta and the rustle of leaves underfoot as they walked.

  Jennifer could sense Arthur’s unspoken urging that they hurry. But he had no need to push her; she could be quite as intent as he. Indeed, as the sidewalk was too narrow for two crinolined skirts, she stepped ahead. The swish of her taffeta increased as she left Arthur and her mother several paces behind. She would show Mr. Arthur Nigel Merriott that he was not the only person who understood devotion to duty.

  When they arrived at Langham Place at the top of Regent Street, a number of carriages filled the square. Greeting friends in every direction, they entered the colonnade of the circular portico beneath the distinctive needle-pointed spire which had been designed by John Nash in the architectural heyday of the Regency. Inside, Jennifer saw th
at even the gallery that ran around three sides of the sanctuary was filled to capacity. All the free pews on the main floor were filled as well. They were making their way to the Neville pew when Jennifer spotted Lady Eccleson and Lavinia.

  Arthur was well acquainted with the older woman, but he bowed deeply at his first introduction to her niece’s daughter. Livvy’s round eyes sparkled, and her blonde curls bobbed. “Won’t you join us? We have extra space in our pew.”

  And so they did, leaving the Neville pew open for others. The Reverend Charles Baring, rector of All Souls, introduced the speaker of the evening in his earnest, simple way.

  The earl took his place at the heavy pulpit before the painting of Christ mocked by the soldiers. Although Shaftesbury’s long face and sharp features could appear earnest to the point of severity, tonight he glowed with conviction as he delivered his message: “…I am particularly pleased when I am asked to speak in a church, for it is my heartfelt and earnest desire to see the Church of England—the church of our nation, and especially of the very poorest classes—dive into the recesses of human misery and bring out the wretched and ignorant sufferers to bask in the light and life and liberty of the Gospel.”

  Lady Eccleson nodded her approval. Arthur sat forward in his seat. But Jennifer could not share their absorption. She looked around her in irritation. Richard was not there. Where was he? She had told him to come. Why had he not done so?

  Earlier that evening the question had been much debated in Richard’s mind. The excursion to Horse Guards had meant more to him than he cared to admit. And certainly he must go out more if he would begin living again. But he shied from the prospect of appearing in public with fierce scars and startling eye patches. Gently bred young ladies might faint at such an alarming sight. And what it would cost his pride to be led about, he didn’t care to consider.