Chapter 5
Five
The following morning, Amelia arrived at St. Hope's Charitable School to advise Aunt Margaret of what she and Henry had discovered about her friend, as well as the slightly more joyful task of determining where and how she might conduct a few experiments with the children.
The small school resided in a former merchant’s house near Blackfriars in central London, on the north bank of the Thames.
The building had arguably seen better days, but had been recently remodeled for its new purpose, and could accommodate approximately twenty students, most of whom were orphans and lived within its solid brick walls.
The girls resided in one dormitory and the boys in another on opposite sides of the building, with school rooms and a dining hall in the center, and the kitchen in the rear on the ground floor.
Amelia had been most impressed on a previous visit to be told how the ladies of the church who’d started the school had done all they could to make it warm and comfortable.
They even had a small vegetable garden to help supply food and teach the children how to grow plants.
The students had chores each day, which helped to run the school, and those tasks changed each month, allowing them to learn domestic service skills while furthering their education—for both the girls, and the boys.
Amelia often volunteered her time, but not as often as her aunt did.
Trepidation slipped through her ribs as she made her way along the street to the school. She hadn’t told Aunt Margaret that she and Henry were intending to visit Hollowgate Heights the previous day, though she had mentioned her concern about the sanatorium—a concern her aunt shared.
Though Louisa was a longtime friend of her aunt’s, Amelia knew Aunt Margaret hadn’t completely supported her friend’s decision to enter the sanatorium. Amelia and her aunt both thought it a somewhat drastic step.
A step which now felt all the more unpleasant, now that she knew they couldn’t see Louisa.
Amelia rang the front bell of the school, which remained locked to keep ruffians from coming in uninvited, the neighborhood not being the safest. It didn’t take long before one of the maids let her in, greeting her warmly and directing her to the kitchen where her aunt was helping bake biscuits for the children.
“Amelia, how delightful—I didn’t expect you this morning.” Her aunt wiped her hands on an apron as she moved toward her, blue eyes sparkling in her round face. “What brings you by?”
Miss Margaret Baldwin, a spinster and Amelia’s mother’s younger sister, had endless amounts of energy, a curious mind, and enjoyed travel. Volunteering at the school provided her somewhere to release that liveliness and also gave her purpose, something Amelia knew all too well was precious.
Amelia returned her aunt’s embrace. “I wanted to speak with you for a moment, and confirm what I should bring for the experiments next week.”
“Excellent. Would you care to help us finish baking, and then we can have a cup of tea and a proper chat?”
“Of course.” Amelia didn’t miss the puzzled look her aunt sent her, clearly curious about what she wanted to talk about.
But her questions would have to wait until they were alone, since the kitchen bustled with deliveries of supplies from the back door, and the cook shouting cheerful instructions to a frazzled scullery maid.
Amelia soon wore a similar apron to the others and was assisting with dropping dough by spoonfuls onto a baking sheet. Two other women, with whom Amelia was already acquainted, worked alongside them. Their task was quickly completed.
Aunt Margaret promised the ladies she would return to help chop vegetables for luncheon, then prepared a tea tray and led the way to a nearby sitting room reserved for the staff, which allowed them a modicum of privacy.
She sent Amelia a concerned look as she poured tea. “I must say your visit this morning surprises me…and worries me.” She set down the teapot with care. “Does this have anything to do with the...well. The matter in Folkestone?”
“Oh—no. Nothing of the sort.” Dismay filled Amelia. “I’m sorry to have caused you any worry.”
The matter in Folkestone. Well, it was rather simple. Her aunt had loaned money to a gentleman friend, who had promptly left for the Continent without repaying it. The scoundrel.
Good riddance, as far as Amelia was concerned, except it had been a substantial sum, and he’d hurt her aunt’s feelings.
Henry had alerted police stations along the English Channel to be on guard for the blighter’s return. Because of this, Mr. Tinton had been detained in Folkestone a few weeks ago. Though he denied any wrongdoing, saying it was all a misunderstanding, he had begrudgingly repaid the money.
It was all sorted, then—yet clearly her aunt didn’t feel the matter was finished.
Amelia studied her for a long moment. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Aunt Margaret looked everywhere but at her, smoothing the apron she still wore with trembling hands. “No, not at all. Why would you ask, dear?”
“Has Mr. Tinton contacted you?” Amelia asked persistently, hoping that wasn’t the case.
“No.” Aunt Margaret released a quiet sigh. “Though—well, I confess I find myself looking over my shoulder far too often. I worry repaying that money has put him in financial distress.”
“His taking it did the same to you,” Amelia protested hotly. “He’s the one who should be worried that you might decide to press charges after all.” She hoped he couldn’t sleep at night.
Her aunt gave a tremulous smile, then reached for her teacup with steadier hands. “I can’t help but wonder if he truly believes it was a miscommunication. That somehow I had it all wrong.”
“Aunt Margaret.” Amelia waited until she met her gaze. “You had the right of it. He is naught more than a charming conman. From what Henry learned, I am sorry to say you weren’t his only victim. I hope you don’t still hold any affection for him.”
Her aunt’s cheeks pinkened, and she returned her attention to her tea. “Ridiculous. How could I?”
Yet Amelia didn’t believe her. She understood her aunt’s loneliness all too well, as it was something she felt, too. Widowhood before one reached thirty was a lonely place. She’d been lucky enough to meet Henry, rather than some man intent on stealing from her.
And while she wanted to reassure her aunt that she would meet someone else, someone better than Mr. Tinton, how could she?
Her aunt had been alone for decades now, and there were plenty of rogues like Mr. Tinton around.
Amelia couldn’t claim to understand why her aunt had never married, although Aunt Margaret did have a strong personality compared to most ladies.
Perhaps that put men off? They were an inscrutable race, after all.
“I don’t think you need to worry about him finding you,” Amelia said at last, desperate to reassure her aunt.
“You moved to London since you last saw him, and a solicitor handled the repayment of the funds. It would take effort on his part to locate you—and if he ever does, I hope he starts by apologizing.”
Aunt Margaret lifted her chin. “It would take more than that to sway my opinion of him.”
“Good. As it should.” Relief filled Amelia at her aunt’s words. “There are better gentlemen out there.”
“Yes, not that I need one to make me happy.” She smiled, and though it wasn’t entirely convincing, the genuineness of her effort further reassured Amelia.
“Yes. That’s true for both of us.” Amelia had slowly learned that in the months following her husband’s death. She was enough to keep herself company, to keep herself happy. And she now had Henry in her life, and he made her happier than she’d thought possible. She hoped the same for her aunt.
“What did you want to speak to me about?” Aunt Margaret asked as she took a sip of tea.
“Henry and I ventured to Hollowgate Heights yesterday afternoon.”
Her aunt’s eyes widened in surprise. “To see Louisa?”
“In part. A friend of Henry’s shared concerns about the sanatorium and its practices. When I mentioned I knew someone there, we decided to visit.”
“Oh. I see. And is she well?”
“Visitors aren’t allowed.” That still annoyed Amelia.
Her aunt sighed. “I do believe she mentioned that. In fact, I think correspondence of any sort is frowned upon, based on what she said. As you know, she sent me a letter upon her arrival advising me not to expect anything more from her until she completed her stay.”
“I did manage to convince an employee to pass her a message to which she replied, saying all was well.” Amelia couldn’t resist retrieving the note from her reticule, wanting reassurance that it was Louisa’s handwriting. If it wasn’t…
“Oh, good,” her aunt said after reading it. “I’m pleased to hear that.”
Amelia drew a relieved breath to have Louisa’s handwriting confirmed. Given the number of letters her aunt and Louisa exchanged, there could be no doubt.
Yet her aunt’s brow furrowed. “I confess, I still find the information she shared earlier about the place odd. It just seems like a drastic approach.”
“I thought the same. I respect her desire to improve her health, and that she feels like it’s holding her back from living her life. But still...”
“Yes. I considered writing to her parents to see if they had any news and see if they mentioned any concerns, but I wasn’t certain what to say,” her aunt admitted.
Amelia knew of Mr. and Mrs. Elmcroft, as they lived in the same town as her own parents.
“Please don’t do so on account of what I shared.
I wouldn’t want to alarm them when I have only suspicions—and we have her admission of health in her own hand.
” She took a sip of tea as she pondered the issue.
“In truth, the part of the sanatorium we saw was nice. Well-maintained, recently updated. The kind of establishment which would appeal to those with funds to spare.”
“Louisa did speak with another patient who gave a glowing report.”
Amelia nodded. That had to be enough. “Then we shall hope for the best and look forward to celebrating once she emerges transformed.”
“I hope it’s everything she wanted and more.”
The conversation moved on to other things, including the experiments Amelia intended to conduct at the school.
They finished their tea, and Amelia viewed the room the headmistress suggested she use.
The children already had aprons, which they wore for their chores, so those could be used to protect their clothing.
Amelia would need to bring beakers and other equipment, as well as the required chemicals.
“The children are quite excited at the prospect of conducting experiments, Mrs. Greystone,” the headmistress said with a smile, only to hesitate. “You…did say it wouldn’t be anything dangerous, didn’t you?”
“I did,” Amelia reassured her with a wry smile. “No need to worry. In fact, I have conducted one of the experiments with a child before with good results, for both the chemicals and the child.”
“I’m pleased to hear that. Perhaps we have a budding scientist amongst our students.” The woman shared an excited look with Aunt Margaret, who nodded in response.
“I hope so,” Amelia agreed. “It is a fascinating field, one that is advancing quickly.”
“Isn’t it? So many changes in our world these days, most of them for the better.”
Most, but not all.
Amelia had witnessed it with the mudlarks when a scientist had tested poisons on them. The thought was enough to make her shudder. Why some used their knowledge and skills for nefarious purposes was something she’d never understand—and hoped never to witness again.