The Beggar Maid by Dilly Court Page B

collection of antiquarian volumes. Occasionally I find something of interest.’ He gazed round at the neatly labelled shelves. ‘I can see that you’ve been busy.’
    Charity accepted the compliment with a nod of her head. ‘I can’t bear a muddle, and books should be treated with respect. I just think of the work that someone has had to do putting all those words together and it’s little short of a miracle.’
    â€˜I wish my students were as appreciative as you.’ Wilmot walked over to the stand where Charity had stacked the rarer editions. He paused, turning to his nephew. ‘You might find something on the shelves that will keep you amused while you’re staying with me in Doughty Street, Daniel my boy.’ He chuckled and began to browse.
    Daniel shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’m more of a doer than someone who is happy to take everything from the pages of a book.’ He picked up the book that Charity had been reading and his eyes lit up with interest. ‘Now this is a good read. Are you interested in Egyptology?’
    â€˜I ain’t sure what that means exactly,’ Charity admitted grudgingly. ‘But if you mean reading about Egypt and Pharaohs and such, then yes I am.’
    He pulled a face. ‘I apologise again if I offended you.’ He opened the book and flicked through the pages. ‘The study of ancient Egypt interests me too. I’m an archaeology student and I hope one day to visit the Valley of the Kings and see the ancient wonders for myself. Doesn’t Miss Edwards’ account of her experiences make you want to follow in her footsteps too?’
    â€˜I dunno. It never crossed my mind. I’m as likely to fly to the moon as travel abroad.’
    He leaned forward, fixing her with an intense gaze. ‘But that’s where you’re wrong. Look at the women who’ve achieved amazing things in science and medicine, and those who campaign for women’s suffrage.’
    â€˜I dunno about all that either. The only women I know have to do what their men tell them or they get a black eye for their trouble.’ Charity had seen the bruises on Mrs Chapman’s face often enough to know that her husband had a violent temper. Maisie Spinks had warned her about his wandering hands and lewd suggestions, and it was obvious that Violet was afraid of her father. There were plenty of men who ruled by the fist, especially when drunk on jigger gin or too many pints of ale.
    Daniel ran his finger round the inside of his stiff white collar and looked away. ‘I believe that does occur in some quarters,’ he said slowly. ‘I’m sorry.’
    â€˜What for? You done no wrong so far as I can see.’
    â€˜Shall we start again, Charity?’ He held his hand out to her. ‘My name is Daniel Barton and I’m studying archaeology at University College.’
    She shook his hand. ‘I’m Charity Crosse and I work for Mr Dawkins. I’m teaching meself, I mean myself, by reading as much as I can. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.’
    â€˜Now we’re friends we can speak freely. What was it my uncle wanted you to do?’ He smiled apologetically. ‘Forgive me for being nosey, but I’m curious.’
    â€˜You mean you can’t think what an educated toff like Mr Barton would want with an ignorant girl like me.’
    â€˜That’s not what I meant. Do you take pleasure in putting me in the wrong?’
    She suppressed a giggle. ‘You do that without any help from me.’
    â€˜I’ve never met anyone like you, Charity Crosse. I don’t know whether to be amused or . . .’ he hesitated, ‘or cross.’ His eyes danced with merriment, and Charity found herself laughing with him.
    â€˜I can’t help my name or the way I am.’
    â€˜And I’ve never met a girl who could make me laugh. You’re quite different from the young ladies I meet