Death of a Duchess by Nellie Steele (the beginning after the end novel read TXT) 📗

will not care for him here. He will be left on the stairs of the nearest orphanage. He will grow up a street urchin. Please, I beg of you to take him.”

My mind whirled. I could not take this child. I swallowed hard as I considered my next move. Tilly’s assessment was correct. The child would be dumped at the nearest location. A terrible fate for a baby. I knew all too well the life he would lead. Yet, what could I do? Perhaps I could see to an appropriate adoption. Something better than an orphanage could arrange. Yes, perhaps…

My musings were broken by a touch on my arm. The redhead approached, gently pulling me back to reality. “Are you all right, Mrs. Fletcher?” she said softly.

Before I could answer the door burst open again. A rotund woman with a heavily painted face and a sour countenance stormed in. “All right, girls, enough is enough! Dry your eyes and put on a stiff upper lip,” she announced. She swatted at one of the girls’ bottoms. “We’ve got a mess to clean up before business starts in a few hours. Come on, come on! Much to do, we’ve…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze fell on me.

“And who are you?” she inquired.

“Mrs. Flet…” the redhead began, but I interrupted her.

“Lenora Fletcher. Duchess of Blackmoore.”

I received several odd glances and a few gasps after announcing my position. “Duchess, is it?” the woman inquired. “If you are seeking your husband, he ain’t here. We’re closed. Or if you are looking to make trouble with one of my girls over the services she provided him, I will have to insist you leave. I don’t permit nobody to harass my girls over the pleasures her husband has received.”

“No,” I explained with a shake of my head. “I am not seeking my husband nor to quarrel with anyone over any… services. I came to visit my friend, Tilly.” I nodded to the body. “Though it appears I am too late.”

“Oh,” the woman said, her countenance softening a tad. She eyed me holding the child, then raised her eyebrows. “Will you be claiming the child then? As her closest next of kin?”

“I…”

“No! We don’t know her from Eve,” another woman objected. “We cannot just give Tilly’s child to her!”

The plump woman raised her eyebrows further, setting her hands on her hips and staring at the girl. “This is a place of business!” she roared. “Not a nursery! We cannot raise a child here! Do you plan on tending to the infant with one hand while you hike your skirt with the other? If she don’t take the child, it goes on the doorstep of the nearest orphanage.”

I fluttered my eyelashes, focusing my attention on the child rather than the vulgar discussion.

The woman lowered her eyes, objecting no further. The madam turned her gaze to me. “Well?” she demanded. “If you are taking the child, let’s get on with it. We have a business to run.”

Tilly still stood in front of me. Her fingers stroking her baby’s cheek. I glanced to her, then to the child. I met the madam’s gaze. “Yes,” I answered. “I am taking the child.”

“Well, get on with it then. You can take the sheet if you ain’t got another covering to wrap him in. And you girls get this mess cleaned up. No one wants a dead body staring at them while seeking the pleasures of a woman.” The woman turned on her heel and removed herself from our company, slamming the door shut behind her.

“All right, girls, you heard Madame Blanche, the time for grieving is over,” the blonde said, taking charge of the room.

The redhead busied herself at one of the dressers, searching the top drawer. After a moment, she pulled a light blue scarf from it. She approached me and offered it to me. “Here,” she said. “This was Tilly’s. She loved it, said the color was the most beautiful she’d ever seen. Take it to wrap the baby in.”

I smiled at her, setting the child on the bed next to his deceased mother and using the scarf to secure the soiled sheet around him. Before I retrieved him, I dug in my purse and produced a few coins. “Please see that Tilly is buried properly,” I requested of the redheaded woman. “I would do it myself, but I shall only be in town one more night.”

She took the coins and nodded. I gathered the sleeping newborn into my arms. “Please make sure he is looked after well,” the redhead pleaded, tears filling her eyes.

“I will. I shall write when he is settled to inform you of his whereabouts.” I glanced across the room. Tilly now stood in the corner near the door. I approached her, but before I reached her, the rude girl stepped between us.

I braced myself for another bout of rude behavior. The girl reached to the child, caressing his cheek. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. “Tilly stashed away a few nappies for him beforehand. Here.” She handed me a small package, wrapped in a sheet.

“Thank you,” I answered softly.

“Goodbye, little one,” she replied, her gaze focused on the child.

I offered her a tender smile before I continued toward the door and Tilly. Tilly’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she smiled at me. I nodded to acknowledge her emotions. She disappeared behind the door as the blonde swung it open for me.

I passed through and descended the stairs and crossed the foyer, stepping into the street. Only then did I take a moment to myself. I leaned against the doorjamb as I collected the thoughts whirling through my mind.

The tiny babe in my arms gave a soft grunt, wiggling and flailing his arms before settling back to sleep. I was no stranger to childcare, having tended several babies during my time at St. Mary’s. However, my concern stemmed not from caring for the babe, but rather from explaining his