The first thing Felicity noticed about London is that the air tastes different. She couldn't describe it of course, but unbeknownst to her, anyone who had traveled away after spending a long time at home could verify that it was the truth. Felicity didn't have long to think on it though as passengers pushed past her with their luggage, anxious to step aboard land again after the long journey. She decided it would be prudent for her to hurry down after them to find Mr. Alcott. She'd overheard some of the crew talking about how their ship had arrived slightly later than expected and didn't want to inconvenience Mr. Alcott any further after he had shown her family such generosity in accepting her arrival.
She put a hand up to shade her eyes and squinted, scanning every face in the crowd in front of her. She became discouraged after 10 minutes of her ardent searching produced nothing. She pulled the small photograph from her coat pocket and glanced at it again, trying to memorize the features: the dark, slightly receding hairline, the wrinkled eyes and kind grin. She'd spent at least an hour studying it aboard the boat in hopes of preventing this very happenstance. She spun desperately, studying every face. She began to draw some strange looks from the crowd. Even more so when she hurried over to a half-occupied sitting bench and stood on it to gain a better vantage point.
She was about to give up and sit down, feeling quite frustrated in her fruitless attempts and starting to worry now that Mr. Alcott had changed his mind or perhaps drawn ill and was unable to pick her up, leaving her very lost and alone. But suddenly she heard:
"Miss Franklin!"
She twisted sharply and in her haste, fell from her perch on the bench. A short, stout man with black, receding hair sprinted to her aide.
"Oh my Lord! Are you quite alright Miss Franklin?" His soft accent combined with a compassionate concerned face made her laugh. He gripped her elbow delicately and with his help, she stood, attempting to brush at least some of the mud off of her bottom and hands.
"Oh yes, I'm fine thank you Mr. Alcott." She grinned at him.
"Oh but you've stained your dress. It's my fault, I truly am sorry for startling you" He managed to look just as concerned for her dress as he was for her safety just moments before.
"A stained dress is well worth a sound body, wouldn't you agree?" Felicity merely smiled at him and he sighed, smiling back and reaching his hand out to her.
"Well, as eventful as it was, I am glad to make your acquaintance at last Miss Franklin." He said kindly, and she took his hand to shake it.
"Yours as well, Mr. Alcott. And please certainly call me Felicity." His hand was warm and firm in her small, cold palm.
"In that case, you can call me Herb then." He smiled, kindly. "Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, are you hungry Felicity? I know of the quaintest little cafe just a block or so from here." He added "Oh, but I suppose you'll be wanting to get out of those clothes first."
Felicity bent to study her muddy backside for a moment, "I don't see any harm in leaving my pride here at the port for a little. Unless you mind horribly being seen with a girl with a dirty bottom?"
Herb sputtered a little at the strange question but then giggled. "You really are so like your mother. I remember she used to tie her hair up with a shoestring to do the shopping when she couldn't find anything else." He sighed, and picked up her luggage, offering her his other arm. "Let's be off then, cousin!"