"Experience is merely the name men gave to their mistakes." Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

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Chapter Twenty

Simon had become quite entranced by the little girl who felt the need to inform him of absolutely everything that she had ever seen or experienced. He liked listening to her. He liked that she trusted him, or as much as a five year old could trust a person.

It took a little over a week to reach London, as Simon had to make more stops than usual so that Hannah could rest. Simon was amazed at how quickly he was adjusting to being a parent. Already, her safety and care were his foremost thoughts.

She ate hungrily whenever he presented her with food, and he hoped that Hannah would soon become a healthier weight. Hannah also asked many questions about her little brother, questions that Simon could not answer. In good time, they would meet.

London was such a lively city, so different from the country life he had become accustomed to in Derbyshire. The streets were filled with people going about their days. Shops selling all sorts of goods and services were open to the public, and Simon could see that they were filled with all sorts of fancy ladies and gentlemen.

Simon noticed Hannah's small head following a family down the street as they rode. She watched them until she could not crane her neck any further. The family were wealthy, to be sure, as they climbed into a fine carriage. The finely dressed mother went first, then the father helped the two young daughters in the carriage. The little girls were dressed in matching blue ensembles. Their pale hair was curled perfectly and their lacy bonnets looked of the finest quality.

Simon could have sworn that Hannah was envious as she self-consciously played with one of the patches on the skirt of her tatty dress. Simon did not know much about raising daughters, but he could certainly provide Hannah with a pretty dress if that was what she wanted.

Almost instantly, Simon spied a shop that could help him. Madame Bichoux's Dressmaking and Millinery. In the window were two examples of what the shop could provide. Two beautiful gowns hung on plain busts.

"Come, Hannah," encouraged Simon as he dismounted. He lifted her from the horse and placed her on the ground beside him before he took her hand. Simon did not know yet if Hannah had the tendency to wander, but he would not take the risk. Her hand would remain firmly in his. He would not risk her wandering into the path of a carriage while his back was turned.

Simon could have sworn that Hannah's wide brown eyes lit up at the sight of the gowns in the window of the shop. Simon opened the door of the shop and he heard a little bell jingle. The interior of the shop was very feminine, as one would expect. Dozens of bolts of fabrics lined the far wall of the store while large tables with patterns and sewing equipment took up the floor space. A woman sat behind a counter to the left of the store playing with a bonnet and a sewing needle while another woman, an older, well-dressed, woman appeared from the stairs that led up to the upper level of the shop, presumably the living quarters.

Madame Bichoux, Simon presumed, opened her arms in a welcoming fashion. When she met them, her face dropped, though only subtly. She first saw Simon's facial scar, the feature most people noticed first. Then she looked over Hannah's dishevelled appearance and said something that resembled, "Tut tut."

"Welcome to Madame Bichoux's Dressmaking and Millinery," she said politely, still smiling. "I am the aforementioned Madame Bichoux. What can I help you with today?"

"Good afternoon, Madame Bichoux," greeted Simon, just as politely. "This is my daughter, Hannah." It was the first time he had introduced Hannah as such, though it felt right. "And I am Colonel Simon Spencer."

Her eyes widened when she heard his rank. "Hello, Hannah," said Madame Bichoux, "Colonel." She spoke the word nervously.

For the first time in their journey, Hannah said nothing. She simply cuddled into Simon's side, holding his hand tightly.

"I would like to commission a dress for Hannah," Simon told Madame Bichoux. "Do you make dresses for children?" he asked.

Madame Bichoux nodded. "Yes, sir. All we need are Miss Spencer's measurements."

Simon liked hearing his surname attached to Hannah's, though he did not know if it was right changing her name from Hepburn.

Madame Bichoux clicked her fingers and captured the attention of the woman fiddling with the bonnet. "Jane, could you fetch the latest catalogue from Paris?" she requested. "Miss Spencer would like to choose a design." Madame Bichoux returned her attention to Simon. "We have a catalogue of the latest in Parisian fashion, Colonel. Miss Spencer, with your permission, can select a design she likes and we will make it for her. Was there any sort of fabric you preferred?"

What did Simon know of fabric? He was sure his bewildered expression gave away his confusion at the question.

Madame Bichoux knelt down before Hannah. "Do you mind if I take a look at your dress, Miss Spencer?" she asked kindly. Hannah nervously nodded. She reached out for Hannah's skirt and felt the material between her thumb and index finger. "This fabric is calico, Colonel," explained Madame Bichoux. "Thin, but practical. Affordable to the lower classes."

Simon did not take offense at her assessment. He could tell that the dressmaker was trying to help him.

Madame Bichoux's hands ran over the patched holes. "Though it seems Miss Spencer likes to play?" she guessed. "You have worn considerable holes in this gown."

Hannah smiled nervously, nodding. "Yes," she replied quietly.

"What are your favourite games?" she asked curiously.

"I like running races," replied Hannah, a little more confidently, "and rolling down hills."  

"And that would explain the grass stains I see here, hmm?" Madame Bichoux smiled knowingly.

Simon thought Madame Bichoux too good with children not to have her own. He was glad that she was able to make Hannah feel a little more comfortable.

Madame Bichoux pinched Hannah's cheek playfully, causing her to laugh, before she stood up. "I can see that fabrics are not your forte, Colonel, so you can leave that to me. Based on Miss Spencer's age and playful habits, I would suggest that we look at sturdy, practical gowns made of fabrics that will not wear easily."

Simon instantly envisioned a plain, brown gown. "I do not care if it wears, Madame," he said quietly. "I would like something pretty for her."

Madame Bichoux arched an eyebrow. "Colonel, dressmaking is my business. Do you think I would let a customer leave my shop if they were not dressed in something divine?"

Simon chuckled. "Of course," he conceded.

Jane returned with the catalogue and she set it down on one of the tables.

"Miss Spencer, would you like to go and look through the catalogue with Jane? You can choose a dress that you like," Madame Bichoux encouraged. Simon released Hannah's hand and she immediately went over to Jane to see the dress catalogue. "Only show her pages nine through twelve," Madame Bichoux instructed Jane. When she turned back to Simon, she said, "If a little girl sees some of the ball gowns in there, you will have a bill as long as the Thames. We want feminine day dresses."

Simon thought Madame Bichoux a good woman. It was a rarity that sellers did not want to charge their customers as much as they could.

Madame Bichoux stood beside Simon as they watched Jane and Hannah examine the French catalogue. "I take it Hannah is not blood?" she asked quietly.

Simon's eyes snapped to hers. "How did you know?" he asked.

Madame Bichoux smiled. "Without meaning to be rude, you do seem awfully new to being a parent."

Was he carrying around a sign that he was not aware of? "I had not realised," he mumbled.

Madame Bichoux laughed lightly. "Colonel, you misunderstand me. I only meant that you watch and fuss and care for the child as though she were a new infant, as though you have only been her father for a few days. Hannah is, what, four? Five? If you had been her father for all that time then it would be obvious."

Simon nodded, realising. He supposed he did watch her obsessively, not wanting any danger to come to her. "It has been a week," he replied. "Her father died when she was very small. Her mother a few weeks ago. It was she that asked me to take her in. I did so gladly. Her mother knew that I could afford to take care of her. She did not want Hannah being left in a ghastly orphanage." He sighed quietly. "Though I am afraid I do not know much about raising daughters. I was the youngest of five sons."  

Madame Bichoux put a maternal hand on Simon's arm and smiled comfortingly. "Daughters are easy, Colonel," she said softly. "Little girls love their fathers with their whole hearts, unconditionally. Their fathers are their heroes long in to adulthood. You are her guardian, her champion, her knight, and her friend. You must always endeavour to be those things for her. If you fail, she will never forget it."

Those last words were ominous. Simon had been feeling optimistic as Madame Bichoux had told him that daughters were easy. But what if he did fail? He was not a parent. He had no experience. If he failed, then Hannah might not ever forgive him.

Madame Bichoux could see his panic. "Colonel," she said soothingly, "look." She pointed in the direction of Hannah and Jane. It seemed that Hannah had found something that she liked. She looked very excited, and her smile was as wide as her little jaw would allow. "Look at how happy she is," she said quietly. "You are already doing better than you think."

"How is it you know all this?" Simon asked. "I was not aware that dressmakers were all-knowing."

Madame Bichoux chuckled. "Not all dressmakers have been wives and mothers for thirty years," she replied. "I have six children, four daughters and two sons, all of whom are grown and married. There is not a tantrum, ailment, quarrel or courting dilemma that I have not seen and dealt with. To my friends and family, I am Mrs Birch," Madame Bichoux confessed with a laugh. "Madame Bichoux is all a part of the experience for my clients. They come to me for Paris, Colonel."

Simon simply smiled in amazement. For the moment, Hannah was happy, and he was doing better than he thought. He had the assurance from one of the most perceptive women he had ever encountered. Well, perhaps not the most perceptive. That crown belonged to a certain Wilde woman. She had seen something in him that he had not seen in himself. While looking at Hannah, he wondered how she would react to the news that he was suddenly a father of two.

"Papa," cried Hannah, immediately snapping him out of his own thoughts, "come and see! Can I please, please have this dress?"

Simon walked over to the table and peered over Hannah's shoulder. She was pointing to an image of a gown on page eleven. The drawing was of a woman carrying a parasol. The dress looked similar to the pretty day dresses that he had seen Imogen and Alexandra wearing. The dress was tight around the bodice with fluffy, feminine, off the shoulder, sleeves. The bodice was gathered at the waist before it fanned out into a large skirt. It was pretty, though he was not sure he was comfortable with his five year old exposing her shoulders to the world.

"Oh, a lovely choice, Miss Spencer," commended Madame Bichoux. She then met Simon's displeased eye, and yet again, she knew what he was worried about. "I will add a collar," she said quietly. "Let us take your measurements, Miss Spencer, and then we can start work on your new dress."

While Hannah was enjoying the attention of the dressmakers, Simon left the shop temporarily to visit the small livery yard that he knew was a few streets away from memory. Simon paid to have his horse boarded there and asked the hand if he knew where he could purchase a carriage. He could not ride back to Derbyshire on the back of a horse with two young children. He needed a carriage with seats where they could sleep.

He was told that a carriage could be brought to the livery yard for a small fee and Simon gladly paid it. He then returned to the dressmaker's shop to collect Hannah.

Her measurements had been taken and he was assured that the dresses would be ready by the end of the week. Simon decided to order two in different colours, colours that Hannah had chosen. In the meantime, Madame Bichoux had gifted Hannah with a dress that she had made a few months ago before a client had changed her mind. It was white, perhaps not a wise colour for Hannah, but pretty nonetheless. The collar and cuffs on the sleeves were all made of fine lace and there was a lovely silk bow sewn on the waist. Madame Bichoux had also kindly offered to braid Hannah's hair. Simon watched the technique closely, as he had no idea how to fix hair.

Together, hand in hand, they walked the short journey to the Windham townhouse. He had not brought Hannah to this street without a purpose. The midwife who had delivered Harry lived here with her husband and her own children.

When Simon arrived at the correct house, he knocked on the door.

"Is this my brother's house?" Hannah asked curiously.

"Yes," he replied coolly.

The door was opened by a maid, and she peered at the visitors curiously. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes," he replied. "I wish to speak with your mistress, Mrs Windham."

"Is she expecting you?" asked the maid.

Simon shook his head. "No. But she knows who I am. Could you please tell her that Colonel Spencer wishes to see her?"

The maid nodded, seeming intimidated, as she invited both he and Hannah inside. She brought them into the drawing room and informed them that she would fetch her mistress.

Simon sat down on one of the tasteful settees and Hannah joined him, meticulously smoothing the skirt of her new dress so it was just so. If he were not so nervous, he would have laughed.

Simon was as close to his son as he had ever been. He had seen him for the briefest of moments when he was born and then he had been content with paying for his care. Now it was time to take responsibility for him. Now it was time to raise him, to raise them. That thought frightened him more than any battle.

A short while later, Mrs Windham appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. She had a content smile on her face as she crossed the threshold. She was just as Simon remembered her. Kind faced, with feminine curves and permanent laugh lines.

"Colonel Spencer," she greeted, "how glad I am to see you."

"I am glad that you are glad," he remarked, standing. Hannah followed suit. He had not really given much thought to how the Windhams would feel when he took Harry from their care. It had been three years. Attachments and bonds would have been formed a long time ago. "How are you, Mrs Windham?"

"Well," she replied, "quite well. And you?" Mrs Windham looked at Hannah curiously, though she did not ask after her.

"I am well, too," he replied. Simon could not help but sense the awkwardness in the air. How was one supposed to say, 'thank you for taking care of my son all these years, but can I have him back?'

Mrs Windham knitted her fingers together. "Would you like some tea?" she asked.

"Thank you, no," he replied. He took a deep breath and decided to launch into his request. There was no other way around it. "Mrs Windham, I think you know why I am here."

Mrs Windham's face fell. "Yes," she said sadly. "I suppose I always knew this day would come."

Simon smiled sympathetically. "I cannot thank you enough, Mrs Windham. You gave Harry a good home when I could not."

"It was a pleasure," Mrs Windham said sincerely. "I have treated him as though he were one of my own."

"Thank you," he said again. "I want to be a father to Harry now. I want to be a father to both Harry and his older sister." Simon's protective hand was on Hannah's shoulder.

"I understand," said Mrs Windham quietly. "Harry belongs to you. He always has. I do not forget what you did for Mrs Spencer, Colonel. I have never forgotten how selfless you were, to give Harry a name and a position when you never had to. He was not your responsibility, and yet you took care of him in the only way you knew how. Until now." Mrs Windham sighed and nodded once. "It is only right that Harry returns to his family," she decided. "Will you wait a minute?" she asked. "Harry is upstairs in the nursery."

Simon nodded and Mrs Windham left the drawing room. Simon looked down to Hannah, only to see an excited grin on her face. "I have always wanted a little brother!" she said gleefully. Clearly most of the conversation had gone over her head, and she had only retained a key piece of information. Harry was to be going with them.

Hannah was practically bouncing when Mrs Windham returned, holding the hand of a toddler.

Simon sucked in a breath as he saw his son properly for the first time. The boy was the spitting image of his mother. In a way, he was a glad that he looked like Helen and not the lover she had taken. He had loved Helen for a time, and he would love this boy for eternity.

Harry's hair was charcoal black, and it fell across his forehead in soft curls. His cheeks were rosy and chubby and he was dressed in a smart white shirt and a small pair of trousers. Then Harry looked up at Simon, and he was started by the pale blue hue of his eyes. Harry kept his eyes on Simon, and he cocked his head to the side. "Fanny, who is this?" he asked Mrs Windham.

Mrs Windham knelt down beside the boy. "Do you remember how I told you stories of your Papa?" she reminded him. "Your Papa the red coat hero?"

A smile teased Simon's lips. Mrs Windham had made sure that Harry knew who he was. She was such a good woman.

Harry nodded.

"Well, this man, here, is your father," she told Harry in a cheerful tone.

Harry immediately looked back to Simon inquisitively. "Papa," he whispered, before returning his attention to Mrs Windham. "Where is his red coat?" he whispered loudly.

Mrs Windham chuckled. "I am sure he left it in his wardrobe," she replied. "Go and say hello," she encouraged. "You have been wanting to meet him for a long time, have you not?"

Harry cautiously made his was across the room to where Simon and Hannah were standing. Simon immediately knelt down so that he could look Harry in the eye. The resemblance between Harry and his mother was startling. No matter how she behaved, Harry's mother had been beautiful.

"Hello, Harry," greeted Simon softly.

"Hello," replied Harry. Harry's eyes flitted to the ride side of Simon's face and she child seemed as though he could not stem his curiosity. He reached out to touch Simon's scar, just as Hannah had. So long as they both were comfortable, he was alright with their curiosity.

"Papa had an accident," explained Hannah.

Harry looked to Hannah, who was still very excited. "This is your older sister, Hannah," Simon introduced. "Hannah, this is your little brother, Harry."

Hannah practically launched at Harry, pulling him into a tight hug. After a moment of surprise, Harry returned the hug.  

The embrace was a sight to be seen. Simon suddenly had two children, two very dependent children, in his care. After everything he had been through, he finally felt as though his life was resuming.

There was only one last piece of the jigsaw. That certain Wilde woman. 

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Hope you liked it!

Had my team photos with my little girls yesterday, and then they're games, which they both won! My younger team is now 8 from 8, undefeated, and my older girls are 6 from 8. Great efforts! And then the Bombers won yesterday too, beat Carlton hehehe. Good sporting weekend lol.

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