Chapter Six
“B eggin’ yer pardon, ma’am, but if it’s to Walworth ye wish to go, might I ask that we consider takin’ along a footman?” John Coachman shifted uncomfortably in the gravel drive. “The area is likely safe enough in the daytime—in normal conditions. And ’tis early enough.” He glanced at the sun, just over the horizon. “But still, we ain’t operatin’ in normal conditions right now, are we?”
Kara looked to Niall. “Is that area really so bad?”
Her husband shrugged. “I have no experience with the place, but I trust John’s opinions. And he’s right about our situation.” He looked toward Tom, who stood at attention at the front door. “We’ll take one of the guards at the gate, but could you please send one of the footmen down to take his place?”
“Yes, sir.” Tom headed inside. John took his place on the bench. Kara allowed Niall to hand her into the carriage, and they started off.
“I’ll have to speak with Stayme about hiring a suitable man to accompany us, at least until this mess is over,” Niall said as they stopped to take up a guard.
“Better to be safe.” Sliding over to sit next to him, she leaned in, happy to absorb a bit of his warmth—and his strength. In her mind, she rehearsed the arguments they meant to make with Matthew Hanlin and his wife, Sarah.
After a while, Niall heaved a long sigh. “I’m sorry, Kara.”
“For what?” She tilted her head back so that she might see his face.
“Petra is a complication from my past. It’s just so damned frustrating. Even with the secrets of my family connections out in the open, still, they keep creeping in, stirring up trouble.”
She pressed against him. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve both had specters from our past rise up to cause trouble.”
“Yet somehow my specters seem to materialize larger, more solid, and armed with sharper teeth,” he said wryly.
“Nonsense. And do not forget, some of our exploits have originated with neither of us.”
“And yet we are sucked into the mists, just the same.”
Kara sat up. “Must I remind you of what you said to me at our wedding? Our life is sure to be a whirlwind.”
He raised her hand to his lips. “But the rewards are beyond worth it.”
“A thousand times worth it.” She reclaimed her hand and traced a finger down the sculpted line of his jaw. “Since we first met, you have shown me in a hundred ways your strength, your kindness, the courage of your spirit. I believe in you, Niall. Just as you believe in me.”
“As we are forced to believe in specters?”
She gave him a smile, but it trembled a little at the force of her emotion. “No one has ever made me feel so comfortable in my own abilities, so able to take on the world. Together?” She waved a hand. “Specters don’t stand a chance. We can move mountains.”
“A mountain might move more easily than Petra Scot,” he mused.
“Gyda was right. We’ve beaten her once. We will do it again.” Her eyes narrowed. “We must.”
“You are right.” He sighed again. “I was just hoping for a bit of peace.”
Kara sat back, thinking. “Perhaps we are not meant for peace.”
He groaned.
“It might be true,” she said. “Perhaps our lot is adventure and intrigue—”
“And madness. Don’t forget the madness.”
She pulled a face. “Madness might be too strong a word.”
He huffed out a laugh and began to tick off fingers. “Murder, mayhem, international conspiracies, fires, pistols, cemetery guns, poisoned artifacts—”
“Fine, fine!” She took his hand and kissed it.
“I wasn’t even finished,” he complained.
“Madness is just the right word, then. I concede it. But as long as it comes with love and the ability to do some good in this world…” She shrugged. “As long as it comes with you, Niall Kier, Duke of Sedwick, then I can accept it.”
Laughing softly, he kissed her forehead. “Very well, then, Kara Kier, Duchess of Sedwick. We will conquer the madness together.”
She leaned into his kiss a moment, then sat back, growing serious. “Although this bit with the girl is more than madness—it is vile.” She arched a brow at him. “I mean to help her, if I can.”
“I knew that already.”
“I’ve written to Rachel, at the coffee shop on Adams. She’s been looking for a bit of help. She might be willing to assist us.”
“It’s a good idea. We should hear the girl’s story before we decide, though.”
It was no short trip, but at last they reached Westmoreland Road in Walworth, south of London. Niall held her hand as she left the carriage and looked up at the Newington Workhouse. As he gave John and the guard some quiet instruction, she stared up at the imposing brick building. Plain, but stretched out long, it stood three stories high. “That is a lot of potential for misery,” she whispered with a shiver. “Is it as bad as they say, do you think?”
“I think there are likely degrees of bad,” he said quietly. “Let us hope this is a better one.”
A porter admitted them into a stark entry hall. “Just a moment, please. I’ll fetch the matron.”
Kara shivered again. The air was chilly, though this room looked spotlessly clean. The walls and floor were of white stone. The only color in the room came from two wooden doors on either side of the hall and the words etched in black on the forward wall. God is Good.
“I thought it would be loud in here,” she said in a whisper. “You hear so much of the overcrowding.”
“The silence is a little eerie,” Niall agreed.
Kara jumped when the door on the right swung open. A plump woman, middle-aged and wearing a veneer of contempt above her dark gown, looked them over.
Niall bowed. “Good morning, ma’am. I am—”
“If you’ve come for the new babe, you’re too late. It’s been adopted out already.”
“We’ve come to speak with one of your tenants,” Niall began again.
“Tenants?” The woman laughed. “Inmates is what they’re called here.” She pursed her lips. “And they are hard at work. I cannot be allowing you to interrupt their labors.”
“We’ll only take a moment.”
The woman looked mulish. Kara gave a silent laugh. She hadn’t met stubborn until she met her husband. This matron didn’t stand a chance.
Niall merely smiled. “I am sure Mr. Cuthbert would not begrudge us a short visit, but I can have him summoned, if you require convincing.”
From the report they’d had, Kara recognized the name of the “guardian” who acted as administrator to this particular workhouse.
The woman considered. Finally, she gave a sniff. “I’m sure Mr. Cuthbert has better things to do with his time, successful businessman as he is. Very well. Which inmate do you seek?”
“A recent addition to your institution. Miss Rose Martin.”
“Her?” The matron looked surprised. “No better than she ought to be, that one.” She set her hands on her hips. “Well, in any case, you cannot go in, sir. I cannot be allowin’ a man to come into the women’s ward.”
“Can you bring the girl out to us?” asked Kara.
“No. She’s work to do, hasn’t she?” The matron thought she’d got around them. “Of course, you can go and speak to her while she labors, ma’am, but not for long.” Clearly, she expected Kara to decline.
“Thank you.” Kara nodded. “If you’ll show the way?”
The matron blinked. “She’s in the kitchens today.”
“I will wait right here, Mrs.…?” Niall ended on an expectant note.
“Mrs. Ash.”
“I will wait here, Mrs. Ash. And I will put my trust in you to be sure that my duchess comes to no harm…or inconvenience.”
The woman looked momentarily shocked at hearing Kara’s title. Her gaze raked over Kara’s gown of green wool and lingered at the embroidered cuffs and hem before she raised her chin. “I run a tight ship, sir. No women are harmed on my watch. There’s no coddlin’, to be sure. But no harm, neither. To inmate or visitor.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“This way, Your Grace.” Mrs. Ash opened the door and beckoned Kara through. They walked along a narrow passage before entering a cavernous room, illuminated only by the dim light coming in the high windows. A long table ran down the center of the room. Chairs surrounded it and lined the walls. Women and girls crowded in, some sharing seats or sitting on the floor. Over a hundred of them, Kara would estimate. They all wore the same uniform, and each of them had a bucket full of old rope before them. They were picking apart the ropes, fraying them with a spiked tool. Dust hung in the air, along with the scent of tar and too many bodies packed together. A few of the women glanced at Kara defiantly. Some shrank into themselves as if avoiding notice. Most ignored her completely as they worked silently, their faces slack or vacant. Just a smattering of whispers faded as they entered.
The matron ushered Kara quickly through. They passed a window through which Kara spotted a courtyard full of men, some pounding staffs into short casks, others using chisels to hammer rocks, before they went into another short passage that turned a corner and led to a series of more brightly lit kitchen rooms.
Women in the same uniforms worked here, sawing chunks of hard bread and stirring large vats of gruel. A younger woman swept the floor beneath a worktable.
“Where’s the Martin girl?” the matron asked her.
The young woman jerked her head toward an alcove in the back of the kitchen. “They set her to grindin’ barley for the pigs.”
“You’ll want some privacy, I expect?” asked Mrs. Ash.
“That might be best. Thank you.” With a nod, Kara headed toward the bent figure in the shadowed nook.
“I’ll wait here, then,” the matron said gruffly, before she turned to join the women at the stove.
Drawing closer, Kara could see a thin, young woman bent over a small hand mill. More a girl, really. She could not have been more than sixteen or seventeen. Her focus was on her work as she worked the cast iron wheel with one hand and dipped scoops of grain into the hopper with the other.
“Miss Martin?” Kara said quietly.
The girl jerked upright and turned to face her. So young. So very thin. Her skin shone pale. Great, dark shadows lay under her eyes. She looked Kara over with confusion. “I’m nearly done with this bucket. I’ll fetch another in a moment.”
“I’m sure you are doing a fine job,” Kara said gently. “I’ve come to speak with you, Miss Martin. Might you pause a moment?”
The girl’s confusion deepened. She cast a glance toward the kitchen. “I don’t think I should.”
“I see. Well, I’ll move over here, and we can talk while you grind.”
The girl ducked her head and went back to work.
“For the pigs?” Kara indicated the grain. “I’m surprised they provide you with meat.”
“They provide the staff with meat,” Miss Martin corrected her. “The inmates get bread and gruel and sometimes a bit of cheese.”
Not surprising, as Kara had long heard that the intent of hard work and meager meals was not only to make the workhouse a profit, but to also make it unappealing, so that they might not be overwhelmed with sheer numbers of the poor. She moved slightly closer so that she could lower her voice. “I understand you used to attend a day school for young women. A school run by Mr. Matthew Hanlin?”
The girl flinched when Kara said his name. After a moment, she nodded.
Kara waited. She checked to be sure the other women were occupied. “I heard what happened to you there, Miss Martin.”
The girl’s knuckles turned white where they gripped the wheel handle. “Who are you?” she whispered.
“My name is Kara. I’d like to be your friend.”
“It wasn’t like that—not like what they say about me.”
“I believe you.” Kara lowered her tone. “Mr. Hanlin is no friend of mine.”
Miss Martin kept grinding.
“Will you tell me your story?” asked Kara.
“I don’t think I should.” The girl was whispering again.
Kara considered. “You were a student there for two years or more. I assume you are well able to read and write?”
The girl nodded.
“Can you make change? Add and subtract numbers?”
Miss Martin lifted her head and met Kara’s gaze directly for the first time. “I started there as a student, but I became a teacher at that school, ma’am. I wanted to be a governess. I can read and write. I know geography and history. I can speak passable French. I can do accounts.”
“I am very glad to hear it. I do not know of a governess position at the moment—”
The girl shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. No one will have me now.”
“Would you like to leave this place?”
Miss Martin shot her an exasperated look. “Would you want to stay?”
“No. Nor do I believe that you should. I have some rooms available above a coffee shop in the city. My friend runs the shop. She is looking for someone to help serve customers, help in the kitchen, order supplies, things of that nature.”
The girl straightened. “Are you offering me the position?”
Kara stepped closer. “Mr. Hanlin possesses information that I need. People that I care for are in danger. I need to find someone to prevent them from getting hurt. Hanlin could help me locate them, but has chosen not to.”
“That sounds like him.”
“I want that information. I want to protect the people I love.” Kara paused. “But I also think that Mr. Hanlin did you great harm.”
Tears filled the girl’s eyes.
“I believe he will do it again, as often as he wishes, as long as he can get away with it. I want to stop him from hurting more girls like you, Miss Martin.”
Fear tightened the young woman’s face and she began to work the wheel again.
“Did you know that he has found investors to help him start up a new school? A boarding school for girls, all younger than twelve years. He wishes it to become a feeder school for Queen’s College, where governesses are taught and certified. He has asked for Queen Victoria’s consent and patronage. If he gets it, the school will open. A great many young girls will be put in his charge.”
The grinding slowed.
“I don’t believe you belong here, Miss Martin. I would like to take you along with us today and introduce you to my friend, to see if you might suit her needs at the shop, at least until you can contrive something better. I will take you either way, if you wish to go, but I do hope you will choose to help me stop Hanlin from harming anyone else.”
The girl’s shoulders slumped. “What do you want me to do?”
“I need you to tell me your story. Here. Now. Today. That will help me to convince Mr. Hanlin to share the information I need. It will also allow me to send word of his true nature along to channels that will reach the court and prevent the queen’s patronage.”
“How will you accomplish that?” She sounded incredulous.
Kara lifted a shoulder. “I am a duchess, Miss Martin. It is not a title that I ever expected or sought, but I have it now. I might as well do some good with it.”
The wheel stopped. “A duchess?” Miss Martin stared. “You might actually be heard.”
“I believe the queen will listen, if I share your story.”
“And I must tell it to you now? Here?”
“I’m afraid so. Miss Martin, there is already a new young woman in the house at Pelton Road.”
The girl let go of the mill and covered her face with both hands. Long, shuddering breaths shook her thin shoulders. “Yes,” she said, the word muffled. “I accept your terms.”
“Thank you.”
“I think that is long enough.” They both jumped at the matron’s words, uttered close. “The girl has work to do.”
Miss Martin straightened and looked the woman in the eye. “I hereby give my notice, Mrs. Ash. I am leaving this place. I should like to have my own clothes back.”
The matron looked taken aback. “The customary notice—”
“I believe the minimum is three hours, yes?” Miss Martin raised a brow.
“I think we can shorten that, in this case,” Kara said firmly. “I doubt the duke will wish to cool his heels in the entry for that long.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” Miss Martin sounded utterly calm. She turned to the matron. “I will meet you in the dormitory, Mrs. Ash, where I will change and return the uniform.”
“Well. That sounds satisfactory, doesn’t it? Lead the way, Miss Martin.” Kara stepped past the gaping matron and followed the girl down the long passageway to a huge, empty dormitory, lined with many beds. The girl settled on one halfway down the back row. Kara perched beside her.
“I will tell you all, but quickly. Before the matron returns.”
Kara merely waited.
Miss Martin let loose a long, slow breath. “My father scrimped and saved to send me to the Hanlins’ school. He thought me quick enough to go into service as a governess. A bright future for me. I loved the idea. I worked hard and did very well in my studies. It gained me favor with both the headmaster and the headmistress. They invited me to become a parlor boarder and to help with the younger girls as I finished up my own lessons.”
“Did they ever speak of their former pupils? Receive visits from them?” Kara asked.
The girl frowned. “They told us often that they had taught the brightest minds in the realm, but they never had letters or visits.” She paused. “Except for one man, but it was always just a guess that the man ever studied with them. He never came to the front, but to the kitchen. The headmistress would go down to meet him there. Always just Mrs. Hanlin, never the headmaster. They would visit and she would send him away with a basket of food and sundries. He looked…odd. Tall and strong. He didn’t wear workman’s clothes, but his hands looked rough. He was often dusty, with bits collected in his hair. His suit was decent, but not fine, do you know?”
Kara nodded.
“I thought that’s why the headmaster didn’t meet with him—as if he were a former student who did not live up to his education. A failure the headmaster didn’t want to acknowledge.”
Kara wondered if that was how Hanlin felt about this young woman. Failure was not the word she would use—but she was going to see to it that he paid for what he’d done to a young girl in his care.
Miss Martin turned her head away when she continued. “He touched me the first time when the school scheduled a trip to the Tower of London. I had a head cold, and Mrs. Hanlin gave me leave to stay behind and work on my own studies. After the rest of them had been gone a while, the headmaster came to my room. He said he came to inquire if I was feeling better, but he locked the door behind him.” She bit her lip.
“He kept coming back?” Kara asked gently.
“Many nights. Most nights. I…I didn’t know what to do. My father, having settled me, had taken a position in York. I tried to tell the headmistress, but she turned the subject. She didn’t want to hear.”
“I’m so sorry,” Kara whispered.
“I felt trapped. My room and board were considered my pay. I had no money. Nowhere to go.” The girl’s eyes closed. “When I discovered I was with child, I wrote to my father, asking for help.”
Kara dreaded hearing more, given that the girl had ended up here.
“He wrote a scathing response. Called me a whore. Said I’d wasted his money and my own opportunity for a better life. He washed his hands of me.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I lived in dread, waiting until the inevitable happened and my secret was discovered. The students began to whisper about my expanding belly, and the headmistress was forced to deal with me then. She shouted at me. She cried. She cast me out.” Miss Martin gave Kara an agonized look. “I had nothing. Just the clothes I wore. Not even my books. I just stood there on the pavement, numb. Terrified. Alone. I had just resolved to go and throw myself in the river when one of the footmen came out. He took me several streets away, to a tiny little house on Pelton Road. He had the key. He let me in and told me I would be staying there, then he just…left.” She put a hand over her eyes. “I sat down, waiting. The rest of the afternoon, I sat there alone. The headmaster arrived that evening. He carried on as if nothing had changed. All the way up until the baby came.”
“But how did you end up here?”
“I think something went wrong with the birth,” she said, low. “The headmaster was ready to resume his activities right away, but I was still in pain. Perhaps something hadn’t healed? I don’t know. There was a servant who came in most mornings, but she wouldn’t speak to me. Never. Not once. Not a word. So I had no one to ask. I started to cry every time he came to the house. I fought him, pleading and screaming. I think the neighbors heard. One night, I ran crying into the street.”
“What did he do?”
“He left. But he showed up in a carriage the next morning. He hustled me and the babe inside it and brought us here. He left us. That was a month ago.”
“Miss Martin, what of your child? Where is it? In the nursery here?”
She shook her head, staring ahead, her face blank. “A couple came to talk to me. They wanted to adopt him. They were barren. The gentleman was a barrister.” She shrugged, but tears shone in her eyes. “They could give him a real life. What should I have done? Allowed him to be raised in all this?”
“No. No, of course not.”
A door slammed, and the matron hustled toward them, complaining as she came. “This is all very irregular. Very unusual.”
Kara stood. “No, Mrs. Ash. It isn’t, is it? And that is the problem.” She tugged the woman away. “Come, let us give Miss Martin some privacy to change, and then she will be coming away with us.”
Kara and Niall would deal with Matthew Hanlin. Afterward, they would see to Petra Scot.
And then…then she would see.