“What about now?”
“I’m not precisely visible since I am on house arrest by the Marquess’ authority. I had already served more than the seven years an apprenticeship required. All I need now is to reach my twenty-first birthday to be a free woman. That will be in just a few weeks.”
“That is an amazing story. I am glad I’ve always worked here and didn’t have to worry about a place. It is beyond belief that you were not captured and forced to be someone’s prostitute.”
“That is why I dressed as a boy. Even lads are not completely safe from the flesh trades, but are usually less at risk. Plus, it was more practical than skirts.”
There was a tap on the door, and Mrs. Twitchel stuck her head in. “Lights out by the time I come back down the stairs. You had best hurry, Miss Bentley. Do not sleep in your uniform.” Then she withdrew.
Sophie giggled, then she said solemnly, “The dragon has spoken.”
“She’s not so bad,” Tiffany replied. “Besides, I am so tired I think I could sleep on a bed of rocks.”
When the candle was out and Tiffany lay on the narrow little bed, sleep did not come at once.Why did I tell her all of that? Did not Samuel tell me time and again that I always said more than I should? I am sorry now that I showed her the knife, I hope she will not steal it. It is all I have …
Chapter 11
Percival sat beside the fire in his study and munched on the little pies. The picture Tiffany painted of life on the street was a dismal one. Would there be some way to fund a place for these youngsters to live and to develop some sort of trade? Tiffany was certainly a likeable person, and seemed well disposed toward most of the people around her.
It was amazing how much better he felt after visiting the kitchen. It was as if she breathed new life into everything.
He was just pondering this when McClellan knocked on the frame of his door. “My Lord, Michaels was observed giving alms at the kitchen door.”
“It is all right, McClellan. I know all about it, and I authorized it.”
“Oh.” The butler deflated like a spent aeronaut’s balloon as it came to ground. “Well, if you authorized it, Lord Northbury, I am sure it is unexceptional. But are you sure it is wise?”
“This is in the same spirit as taking part in developing an orphanage to help manage abandoned or parentless children.”
“I suppose. But it does seem just a trifle more personal.”
“It is, rather. But are we not told that we should not become weary of doing good?”
“I shall not debate the matter with you, My Lord. I shall simply bid you good night. I believe that Smithers is waiting up for you.”
“Very well, although sometimes it seems to me that I am being bullied by my servants.”
McClellan allowed himself a small smile. “That is quite humorous, My Lord. But I can assure you that we only want the best for you. And that would include that you get adequate rest.”
“Oh, McClellan, whatever would you do if I were the sort to junket about to jollifications until dawn?”
“I would adjust, My Lord, but I would not approve. Such a lifestyle is good for no one.”
When he reached his room, Smithers was, indeed, waiting up for him. “Are you ready to ring a peal over my head, as well, Smithers?” Percival asked.
“I would not presume, My Lord. Will you require a nightcap or tisane before you turn in?”
“No, I believe I shall sleep quite well tonight. Do go to your own rest, Smithers. I might read a while before I put out the candle, so leave it for me, if you would, please.”
Percival heaved a sigh of relief when his valet went out and closed the door. He picked up the book he had been reading for several days now,The Art of Husbandry,and continued to wade through the chapter on hunting dogs. He snorted a couple of times as the author made assertions which he knew were not true, and he strongly wished for a pencil so he could make notes in the margins. Since he had not provided himself with such a thing, he put the book aside and snuffed the candle.
He fell asleep to visions of rows of little white cots, with comfortable sheets and blankets. Lines of children, clean, well fed, and orderly, moved from bed to table, table to classroom. In the back of his mind he knew from his own experience that children are neither orderly nor well behaved, but that did not interrupt his pleasant musings.
Little did he know that by befriending one waif, he was opening the door to troubles unimagined and unimaginable.
Chapter 12
Elizabet, the charwoman, set aside her scrubbing brush, and hauled herself to her feet. “I does take in a youngling now and again. Trains um up in charrin’, chimney sweepin’, an’ tha like. Gives ‘um an honest trade, to keep ‘um off tha streets.”
