Page 21 of If a Lady Lingers

Ah, sothatwas it. “And what did you bring to bribe them with this time?”

He grinned. “You.”

Before her face could flush at that, half a dozen girls and boys charged down the stairs; another half dozen burst out of the ground floor rooms deeper in the old house-turned-school. All of them flooded into the entry hall and began to crowd around him, all receiving hugs and affectionate rubs on their heads. Whitby greeted each child by name and asked if they were behaving; every child assured him they were.

“I’ve brought you a special guest.” He nodded toward Daisy. “Miss Daring, may I introduce you to the children of the Gatewell School?” His eyes sparkled. “Children, this is the very special Miss Daring.”

They all bowed or curtsied, as they were undoubtedly instructed to do. Daisy bit back a smile as she gave a low curtsy in return.

“I’m very pleased to meet you.”

Bright smiles answered her.

“Let’s go up to the schoolroom,” Whitby told the children, “and you can all show Miss Daring and me what school work you’ve been doing.”

The children, of all ages and sizes, ran up the stairs with the noise of a trampling herd of elephants. Daisy stared after them, a bit shocked.

“Goodness,” she whispered.

Misunderstanding her surprise, Whitby took her arm to escort her upstairs. “I know that you were expecting to meet more of them.”

Not at all! The dozen who’d greeted her were more than enough.

“But the others are in workshops in the afternoons, where they’re learning trades they can use to find future employment.”

“How many others?”

“About three dozen or so at any one time, but it fluctuates.” He shrugged as they rounded the first-floor landing and continued up toward the schoolroom. “We’re not a boarding school. We only take in children during the day so their mothers can earn livings without leaving their children home alone or letting them run wild on the streets. And here they’ll receive a meal and instruction, and not just in reading, writing, and math either. That’s what the workshops are for. We also teach them skills, like carpentry and cooking, so they can become apprentices when the time comes or find other employment for them.”

“You give them a proper chance at life,” she whispered.

“Well, we try.” He reassuringly squeezed her elbow and said quietly, “Some are still grieving for their late fathers. The school gives them a safe place to do that, too.”

That was why Whitby loved this place so much and why he was so certain she would love it, too. Because the children here were just like them, still suffering over losing a parent.

Wordlessly, unable to find her voice around the knot in her throat, she slid her hand down to his and reassuringly squeezed his fingers.

They entered the large room that had once served as the house’s nursery. It had been changed into a schoolroom with rows of small desks, a chalkboard behind the teacher’s desk, shelves filled with books, pencils, slates— Even a globe sat perched on the shelves, just waiting for someone to play with it.

The children darted into their seats, all of them smiling conspiratorially at Whitby and a few stifling their giggles.

“They have a surprise for you,” Whitby told her as he led her to the front of the room, then sat back on the corner of the teacher’s desk. His grin was just as bright and bubbling with excitement as the children’s.

She wasn’t fond of surprises. “Oh?”

He nodded and clapped his hands. At the signal, the children lifted up their chalk slates to reveal the flowers they’d drawn for her. Every last one of them was a daisy.

Her eyes stung. “What beautiful flowers you’ve made! That was so kind of you to think of me.”

The children beamed with pride and raised the slates even higher.

She turned toward Whitby and mouthed,This was your idea.

He winked at her, and her heart melted.

As if he knew he’d knocked her speechless, he pushed himself off the desk and addressed the children. “Miss Daring has come to visit our school and meet everyone here. But first she wants to talk to us about the new house we’re building for the school.”

“Will we get to help build it?” one of the boys piped up. His freckles reminded her of her younger brothers.