Chapter Text
“Hello Eliza,” Patrick Nash said to Eliza as he entered her new office at Nash and Sons.
“Good morning. What can I do for you?”
“I may have a case for you.”
“Then, by all means, have a seat,” Eliza smiled.
Eliza Scarlet and Patrick Nash had reached a business agreement that Eliza would work with Nash on cases of her own choosing, and still keep her own private detective agency. It was a good compromise, and it will keep her busier than she had ever been. If Mr. Nash had a case that interested Eliza, it was her choice whether or not to accept it.
Patrick sat in a chair facing her at ease, slouching a bit with one leg resting over the other. The two of them had reached a friendly working relationship.
“A woman contacted me and said she had a delicate matter. A desire to find someone. It seems there is a child she wishes to meet,” Nash offered.
“Her own?”
“Not exactly. If you wish to learn more, I suggest you meet with her. Here is her address.”
Eliza took the paper with the prospective client’s name and address.
Later that afternoon, Eliza stepped onto a tree-lined street in Westminster. Looking at the address on her paper and checking again the bronze address plaque next to the light blue door of the townhome of a Mrs. Stevens. Smoothing her hair and dress jacket, Eliza knocked and was permitted entry by a maid.
“Yes, Miss. Mrs. Stevens will be with you shortly. Please wait in the parlor,” a petite older woman in a maid uniform explained to Eliza.
As was her custom, Eliza began to take in her surroundings. It was a comfortable room, with dark wallpaper, a piano, framed photographs, lace curtains, and over drapes. Glancing at the photographs, she noticed a wedding picture from approximately a couple of decades earlier, a picture of an elderly woman, and a family home. Eliza chose one of the two upholstered chairs near a small table to sit on.
“Hello. You must be Miss Scarlet. I am Mrs. Stevens, Maud Stevens. I’m glad you have made yourself comfortable,” a tall, dark-haired woman with a few streaks of gray pulled back into a braided chignon greeted her. Her smile was kind, with worry lines upon her forehead. The maid brought a tea tray and set it on the table. Mrs. Stevens served tea and sat down as the maid exited the room.
“Based on your punctuality, I trust you found my home easily?”
“Yes. How can I help you, Mrs. Stevens?” Eliza asked, setting down her teacup and reaching for her pen and notebook.
“I am hoping you can find someone for me. I think I know his general whereabouts, although it may be more difficult than I hope. It is a bit of a long story, Miss Scarlet.”
“The more I know, the better I can help you.”
“Yes,” setting down her teacup, and taking a deep breath, Mrs. Stevens glanced at her parlor door to make sure it was shut. “Miss Scarlet. I expect as a professional, you will keep my matter discreet.”
“Yes, of course.”
Shifting to the edge of her seat, Mrs. Stevens began, “I am a widow. My husband passed away a few months ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear of your loss,” Eliza said with politeness.
“Thank you. My husband and I loved each other. For the most part, he was a good husband, but like many marriages, we had our struggles. We wished to have a large family. Mr. Stevens, Harold, had several brothers and sisters. I have two sisters. I always thought I would fill this home with children.” She paused and looked around and sighed.
“I take it, this was not the case for you and your husband.”
“Right,” She paused. “I had nine miscarriages. One at 6 months along. Forgive me for the intimate details, Miss Scarlet. Each time I lost a child, my doctor told me I was risking my health. Time went on and I grew older as did Harold. We never had any children. Just heartbreak. Harold was afraid to have…relations with me since the doctor told him that I nearly died from the last. And…. like many men…” Mrs. Stevens stood and took out a handkerchief. She turned to control her emotions. After a minute, she faced Eliza. “My husband had relations with another woman and he fathered a child with her.”
“Oh, I see,” Eliza felt a tug at her own emotions. “And how can I help?”
“The other woman has passed away. I think about a year or so ago. She had no family that I know of and I do not know what became of the child. I know this may seem unusual, but I would like to see if this child has a home. If he does not, I wish to raise him.”
Eliza took a moment to take this in. Mrs. Stevens studied Eliza’s face and continued. “If Harold’s child is wanting, I can give him a home, schooling, everything Harold would want for his only child. I know it could be a painful reminder of his unfaithfulness, but I did love my husband and I know he did love me. Having a little bit of him here in my home would give me happiness. It is not the child who is to blame for the affair. It is my husband and the other woman. I sometimes blame myself for having a weak body. I know I am a little old to become a mother. I know the child may have difficulties adjusting to a new home, but if he is where I fear he is, I feel it is my duty to God and my deceased husband to give him a home.”
Eliza picked up her pen. “Where do you think the child is, Mrs. Stevens?”
“His mother briefly worked here in the kitchen as our cook and housekeeper. I suspected something was going on between them so I sent her away. I did not know she was with child until later. She is Scottish. I have the address of her mother’s home in Glasgow. Her father was deceased. I found out her mother has also died. Our former employee’s name was Maura Forbush. She was a young woman, with brown hair, average height, and bluish-gray eyes. She told me she did not have any brothers or sisters. Well, she had a brother who passed away as a child. She liked to sing and had a liveliness about her. I can see how she may have attracted my Harold.”
“How did you come to know she was with child?”
“When Harold was dying, he told me. He told me that she gave birth to a son. He had been sending money to Maura. I was angry and hurt, yet, I felt sorry for an unmarried woman who had a child to raise by herself. A bastard who would never know his father. Harold begged my forgiveness and told me that he was not good enough for me and that the good Lord would not receive him. He begged for my forgiveness. He was dying. I loved him and so I forgave him.” She wiped a tear from her eye and attempted to compose herself.
Eliza patted her hand. “What a remarkable woman you are, Mrs. Stevens. I can see you have a beautiful heart. I will do my best to find this child. I just need a little more information. Where do you think this child might be?”
“Harold told me that Maura and the child lived with her mother until the mother, the child’s grandmother, passed away. After that, she wrote to him asking him to send the money to a public house in Glasgow. The check was returned to our home with a note scribbled on the envelope that the recipient could not be found. Harold sent a man out to the public house and found out that Maura had died. Harold told me all of this shortly before he passed away. I know he worried about the child.”
“Oh, dear. Any word on where the child might be?”
“That’s just it. I do not know, but I fear he did not have anyone to turn to. He is most likely in Glasgow since that is where his mother was last known to live.”
“If that is the case, perhaps he is in a poor house or an orphanage? You say she must have conceived the child before you sent her away? So that would make him about …”
“I estimate he may be about 7 years old.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Edwin.”