He stood and began pacing. “Except she isn’t here. She’s living with the Donnellysinsteadof living here. I even invited her back.Andshe hasn’t asked me again if I loved her. She hasn’t said she loves me. Only that she’s leaving shortly and doesn’t mean to come back.”
“‘Shortly’ isn’t ‘immediately.’” Another very pointed and very wise look from Mrs. Simms set Barnabus’s feet under him once more.
“There’s still a possibility of making things right between us.” It was almost a question.
“If you want my advice,” she said, “you ought to do what should have been done to begin with. Court her. Give her a chance to decide if there’s more between you than either of you believed.”
“I’ve never courted anyone.” He offered the warning as much to himself as to her.
Mrs. Simms shook her head. “Obviously.”
He laughed a little. And fretted a little less than he had been.Court her.He could do that. He would enjoy doing that. Perhaps she’d discover the feelings she’d confessed to years ago weren’t entirely gone. Perhaps she’d decide to stay. He didn’t know how much of the three weeks of her time in London remained, but he’d do what he could with what time he had left.
A knock sounded at the door. His posted hours for the day had ended, but he never turned anyone away, no matter the time.
Mrs. Simms slipped out to see who had arrived while Barnabus finished up in the sitting room, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Gemma, but his heart feeling more hopeful than it had in years.
Mrs. Simms returned in the next moment and announced simply, “Someone to see you.”
He immediately recognized Mr. Snelling, the man who’d come to see him about a nonexistent illness. He was watchingBarnabus with a look of curiosity, but not one that felt threatening.
“Is your throat giving you difficulty again?” Barnabus asked.
The man shook his head. “I thought it was time I told you why I really came by.”
The unexpected candor was welcome, and Barnabus looked him over, studying him, searching for some sort of clue.
“I’m certain you didn’t miss that I had taken note of ... Well, I ...” He grew more uncomfortable as he stood there, looking at Barnabus with drawn brows. “You look a terrible lot like my sister, and I can’t get past it.”
“The resemblance is likely a coincidence.” Barnabus ignored the fact that he himself didn’t believe in such things. “I haven’t any family other than my mother, and she’s been gone for a long time.”
The man turned his hat around in his hands, spinning it by the brim. “I’ve not seen my sister in twenty-five years. We came to London to look for work, but the very first day, we were separated on a crowded street. I couldn’t find her. I looked for days, months, years. Though I’ve little hope of finding her now, I still watch for her. Seeing you was ... jarring. You look so like her.”
Barnabus swallowed a lump of both emotion and apprehension. “What’s your sister’s name?”
“Agatha Snelling.”
That wasn’t very helpful. Barnabus had long suspected “Millie Milligan” was not his mother’s actual name, but it was the only one he knew.
“She’s only a year younger than I am,” Mr. Snelling continued. “The right age for being your mother. And I wondered—” He shook his head. “I know there’s little chance of it in a city this large, but ... blimey, you look so much like her.”
“As I said, my mother died several years ago. I can’t tell you for certain if she and your sister are the same person,” he told him.
“I realize this can’t be proven,” Mr. Snelling said, sadness touching his expression. “All you have is my word that you look very much like I remember her. But I don’t know that I can ever fully believe there’s no connection at all.”
Barnabus couldn’t argue with that. He felt the same way. There was no proving their connection, and yet the possibility pulled at him. And, if this man was, in fact, Barnabus’s mother’s brother, that made him ... family.
Mrs. Simms was still in the room and had heard the entire exchange. She knew Barnabus’s mother’s history. She understood how it fueled his rescue efforts. He met her eye and silently asked the question she must’ve known was hanging his mind. She motioned him to join her on the side of the room, far enough away from Mr. Snelling to avoid being overheard if they kept their voices low.
“It obviously can’t be proven,” Barnabus said. “But it does feel possible.”
“Did your mother look a great deal like you?”
Barnabus nodded. “Enough that people commented on it.”
Mrs. Simms hummed in thought. “You’d do best to proceed with caution. Though I can’t imagine what he would gain by lying about any of this.”
“Life’s taught me to be wary, I’ll tell you that much.”