Free The Tale of Hawthorn House by Susan Wittig Albert Page B

The Braithwaites, perhaps? Would they have room for another child?”
    At that moment, the baby stirred, raised her tiny fists, and began to squirm and fuss. Dimity was surprised by her own sudden surge of longing. If only things had worked out differently with Christopher, they might have had their own children by now. If only—
    She gave herself a little mental shake. “I should like to keep the baby here, Miles. For the time being, of course,” she added hastily. “Just until you’ve found the family.”
    Miles raised both eyebrows. “Wouldn’t it be better if she were given to someone with children, Dimity? You have no experience. Perhaps Mrs. Sutton would be willing, or—”
    “Mrs. Sutton has a houseful. Miles, I want to keep her!” Dimity took Flora out of the basket and held the baby to her shoulder. Almost at once, she stopped fussing and snuggled her face against Dimity’s neck. Dimity’s heart leapt, and she took a deep breath.
    “It won’t be for long, I expect,” she said, steadying her voice with an effort. “You’ll find her mother quickly, I’m sure. And Elsa’s had children—she can help me. Between us, we will manage quite easily.”
    Miles studied her for a moment. “Well, then,” he said finally, “keep her if you like.” He frowned down his nose in mock severity. “She won’t cry in the night, I hope.”
    “She doesn’t cry loudly,” Beatrix put in. “I’m sure she won’t disturb you, Captain.” To Dimity, she added, “Mrs. Jennings could supply you with milk and a baby bottle.”
    “We’ll need nappies, too,” Dimity said, cuddling the baby happily. She brushed her lips across the soft hair. “And infants’ clothing. Perhaps Mrs. Hopkins will be willing to share out of the Mums’ Box.” She frowned. “Was anything left with her, Beatrix? Any clothing or supplies?”
    “Oh, dear,” Beatrix said, “I almost forgot!” She reached into her bag, took something out, and put it into Miles’ open hand. “There was no clothing, just the note and the hawthorn sprig. And this. A scarab ring.”
    Dimity saw that Beatrix had given Miles a ring, a heavy signet ring, set with a large cornelian, the color of blood.
    “It is indeed,” Miles said, turning it in his fingers. “See the Egyptian carving?” He held the ring up. “Lends credence to Elsa’s gypsy theory, I’d say. This is the sort of jewelry the Romany people favor.”
    “Both the stone and the setting seem quite unique,” Beatrix said. “It occurred to me that it might be traced to its owner, which—”
    “Which might lead us to the baby’s parents!” Dimity exclaimed excitedly. “Of course, Bea!”
    “It’s certainly most unusual,” Miles said. “Yes, p’rhaps it can be traced.” He glanced at Beatrix and shook his head ruefully. “You’ve done it again, Miss Potter.”
    She looked at him, her blue eyes wide. “Done what, Captain Woodcock?”
    He chuckled. “Brought us a mystery. This is getting to be a habit, you know.”
    “But surely this one won’t be too hard to solve,” Dimity said, feeling the baby’s warmth against her. “The mother must be simply frantic. She must be moving heaven and earth to find this precious child.”
    I am sorry to tell you, however, that this was not the case.

7
    Where Emily Went and What She Found There
    Stories that involve quite a number of people (as this one does), may not always progress in a chronological order. To learn why Flora’s mother was not moving heaven and earth to find her daughter, we must turn the calendar from Sunday back to Friday, and follow Emily Shaw as she took the up train from Windermere Station.
    Emily had never before ridden on the railway, and the prospect was thrilling. The trip, however, was not. The train was noisy, smoky, and crowded. The ten-hour ride was punctuated at random intervals by frightening bumps and lurches, and when they went round a curve, the car shook itself and threatened to tip right off the rails.