Chapter 19
Reese woke early the next morning after a restless night. All she’d been able to think about was that poor child left behind in London. How long had he been on his own? She rose from the bed.
“Why are you up so early?” Jem moaned, but when she shot him a flat look, he sat up. “Are you worried about the prisoner? Catherine said he would be fine, especially with the help of Nellie’s potion.”
She tried to speak, but sudden emotion hit her hard, and she couldn’t. These stupid pregnancy hormones. Reese cleared her throat and tried again.
“The boy,” she croaked.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Jem asked, looking guilty. “I was sure I did, but maybe I forgot when you threw up. Do I need to get you some more of Nellie’s tea?”
Reese shook her head. What she’d taken last night must still be working.
“What didn’t you tell me?” she said, wiping her eyes.
“As soon as the guests left, Gareth took a couple of men with him to London in search of the kid.”
“Bless him.” Reese sank onto the bed. He could easily have just sent some men to search, but going himself meant more people were likely to cooperate with the searchers. “I wish I’d known. I would have slept better.”
“You were already asleep,” Jem said, massaging her shoulders. “I wasn’t about to wake you after you’d been so sick.”
“I don’t know what brought it on. I sure hope it’s not a sign of what’s coming with this pregnancy.” Reese shifted so that she could kiss him. “But I need to check on the prisoner.”
“Of course you do.”
When they slipped from their room, Reese was struck by the hush after all the noise from the Twelfth Night Ball. The hothouse flowers that had been vibrant the night before now drooped, their petals curling inward. A few servants moved through the corridors, their voices low.
A footman sat in a chair outside the servants’ sickroom and jumped to his feet when he saw them.
“It’s all right,” Jem said. “Did he have a quiet night?”
“Aye, sir. Nary a sound once her ladyship saw him settled.”
Reese opened the door, and she and Jem stepped into the small room where a fire crackled in the hearth. The room smelled of herbal remedies, vinegar, and... was that gin? It must be, since alcohol would kill the germs.
The prisoner lay on his side, pillows propped beneath his feet to keep them raised. Fresh linen had replaced the filthy rags he’d worn the night before, and clean bandages wrapped his ankles and insteps, already darkening where ointment had soaked through.
Catherine sat nearby in a simple morning gown, a writing board balanced on her knee. Papers were secured beneath a narrow leather strap.
“He’s stable,” she said. “Weak, but no longer in immediate danger. It will take time for his feet to heal, which is just as well.”
Reese nodded, understanding what the doctor wasn’t saying. There would be a push to turn the man over to the authorities immediately.
The prisoner stirred. His eyes opened, and panic flared in them briefly. When he recognized Reese, it receded.
“Good morning.” When she stepped to the bed, Jem grabbed the only other chair for her to sit on. “Thanks.”
The man inched away at Jem’s nearness, and his gaze darted to the door.
“There’s a guard outside,” Reese said. “So even if your feet could support you, it’s not possible for you to escape again.”
“My boy...” he said hoarsely.
“We understand.” Reese put a gentle hand on his.
“His Lordship has gone to London to bring your son here,” Catherine said.
She rose and came to stand by the bed, adding softly, “His pulse is steadier, and he’s taken well to soft foods.” Catherine pointed to a door in the corner. “When he needs to use the privy, just let the footman know.”
Catherine put her notes in what looked like a medical bag and left the room.
“My name is Mrs. Taylor, and this is my husband,” Reese said. “We’re guests of his Lordship. What’s your name?”
“William Cooper, and my boy’s Bertie. Wife and I named him in honor of the Prince of Wales.” His voice wavered. “And look at me now. Mary would be so ashamed.”
Jem poured water from the jug and handed the cup to Reese. She held it to William’s lips until he signaled he’d had his fill. When he finished, he leaned back against the pillows, and Jem took back the cup.
“Can you tell us what happened?” she asked. “Slowly, since there’s no hurry.”
“I’m a cooper, same as my father and grandfather before me,” William said. “Made casks for grain and water, ale when there was work enough. We did all right.” He closed his eyes. “Until the sickness came.
“Mary fell ill first with the cholera. Then the little ones followed. They were fine in the morning, but by evening all three were gone.” His breath hitched, his shoulders shaking. “It was as if her heart died with them. Two days later, she joined them.”
“So it was just you and Bertie left?” Reese asked, unable to keep the tremble from her voice.
“Aye.” William swallowed hard.
The door opened quietly.
Reese turned to find Gareth in the doorway, exhaustion etched on his face, one hand resting on the shoulder of a small boy. The poor child was thin, his coat too large for his frame, the cuffs turned back twice. His fearful gaze scanned the room until it landed on the man in the bed.
“Da,” the boy cried and threw himself at the man.
“Oh, thank the Lord.” William pulled the boy against him, crying again. “Bertie, my Bertie. I thought I’d lost you too.”
Blinking back tears, Reese glanced at Gareth, who had stepped fully into the room. He said nothing, his jaw set, but his gaze was fixed on the pair before him.
“His wife and three youngest children died of cholera,” she said softly, “and he’s been struggling ever since to keep himself and Bertie together.”
“Aye, my Lord.” William swallowed hard. “Though I was sick with it myself, I stayed on my feet as long as I could, tending them, hauling water. I cleaned what needed cleaning but didn’t sleep much.
” His mouth twisted. “When it was over, I thought I would be right again. Bertie was all I had left, and he needed me. But I never was.”
Reese passed him the cup, and he drank, slower now.
“My strength never came back,” he said quietly. “I could lift a stave one day, then the next I would near drop it. My legs would shake, my head swimming. And I was cold all the time.” William shook his head. “A cooper can’t work that way.”
He lifted a hand, scarred and calloused. “I tried. Lord knows I tried. I took what work I could, but when you’re slow, they stop calling. The work dried up, but the rent didn’t.”
William wiped his face with his sleeve. “When I was arrested, I begged the landlady to take Bertie, but she said she didn’t run no charity, and he would have to go to the workhouse.
And after I’d fought so hard to keep us together.
” William looked at Gareth. “My Lord, I swear I was desperate. They separate the children from their parents at the workhouse. I was afraid I would never see him again.”
“Well, Bertie’s here with you now,” Reese said, touching the boy’s hand. “Will you watch out for your father while he gets better?”
The child gave an enthusiastic nod, and Reese rose. “We should see about having a cot brought in so he can sleep in here with his father.”
Jem had wondered when Gareth would mention the topic of their unplanned guests, thinking he might broach it at tea. But it wasn’t until after dinner, when the fire had burned down to a steady glow, that Jem sensed a change in the earl.
Gareth had been standing near the window, one hand braced against the sill, staring out into the darkness. Then he turned to face them. His gaze went to Catherine, and she nodded at him encouragingly.
The earl gave a brief explanation to the others of the incident with the escaped prisoner and the subsequent return of the boy to his father.
Reese clutched Jem’s arm. He understood how worried she was about William and Bertie. Gareth was a man of high standards, and the current laws would demand that he return the escaped prisoner to serve out his sentence, likely with an additional penalty for the escape.
“The man stole and later escaped lawful custody. These facts remain regardless of circumstance,” Gareth said.
Reese shifted. Worried she might speak up too soon, Jem made a soft shushing sound and nodded toward Catherine. She didn’t look alarmed at all.
“What occurred last night cannot be allowed to become a precedent,” Gareth continued.
“Precisely.” The Colonel gave a firm nod. “If exceptions are made, the law becomes optional, and society will fail.”
“And yet...” Gareth held up a finger, his gaze moving briefly to his wife before returning to the group. “Neither should we pretend our laws exist in a vacuum. As we are reminded in the Gospels, the law was made for man, not man for the law.”
The Colonel narrowed his eyes. “With respect, my lord, that is sentiment.”
“I disagree,” Gareth said quietly. “I would call it stewardship.”
Reese spoke then. “People who live in glass houses should not throw stones. None of us is perfect.”
“What are you suggesting?” the Colonel asked, his voice sharp. “That we excuse criminal behavior because misfortune exists?”
“I’m suggesting we consider outcomes,” Reese replied with calm firmness.
“In William Cooper’s poor health, returning him to London to complete his sentence will probably kill him.
And with no family to care for him, little Bertie will end up on the streets or in a workhouse, where he’s likely to join his father in death.
That’s not an appropriate penalty for theft. ”
“I agree with Clarisse. I am certain that Mr. Cooper will not survive imprisonment.” Catherine held the Colonel’s gaze. “I know what I’m talking about, and you have seen it. That is not speculation.”
“Ellen and I agree,” Michael said. “I’m no doctor, but cholera’s a bad one. Just ask Granddad.”
“It’s a cruel disease,” George agreed. “I’m sure you saw it in India.”
The Colonel nodded, but the crease between his brows grew deeper.
“I have made my decision,” Gareth said. “As Clarisse said, it is a case of considering outcomes. Not only what is best for Cooper and his son but also for my people.”
Reese tightened her grip on Jem’s arm and barely contained her excitement.
“On the Kellworth estate, I already possess a framework for men such as William Cooper,” Gareth said.
“I provide homes and opportunities for tenants who are injured or diminished in some way. Clarisse, during her first visit, demonstrated to me that those people are not without worth. Nearly all are still capable of work, though not as they once were.”
“You propose placing a convicted thief among them?” the Colonel blustered.
“No, I propose,” Gareth replied, “to place a skilled cooper there under supervision and with conditions.”
Reese’s breath caught, but she said nothing. Jem liked where this was going.
“It is clear to me that Mr. Cooper’s interest is in caring for his son. For me, that is incentive enough. He will be housed in one of the new cottages,” Gareth went on. “Working under oversight, his wages will be modest but sufficient for sustenance and the care of his child.”
“And the theft?” the Colonel pressed. “What of justice?”
Gareth met his gaze squarely. “He will make restitution.”
The room stilled.
“Every penny he can spare beyond basic living will be set aside to repay what was stolen,” Gareth said. “I will see that the injured party in London is compensated.”
“So, mercy won’t rob justice,” Reese said. “I like it.”
“As do I,” Ellen agreed, glancing at Evangeline and Beatrice, who both nodded.
“As Catherine has said, repentance is a good thing,” George mused. “As I would know. Desperation drives people to do desperate things, especially if they feel alone. I believe your village would provide this Cooper fellow just what he needs: a place to do good work and raise his son.”
“I agree,” Beatrice said shyly. “Your cottiers are devoted to you in their gratitude. I believe the Colonel might be surprised that, in time, Mr. Cooper could become one of the most loyal.”
“I am not doing it for loyalty,” Gareth said a little gruffly. “It is a measured response that preserves order without discarding humanity.”
The Colonel leaned back, studying Gareth for a long moment. “You will be watched closely for this decision.”
“I am always watched.” The corner of Gareth’s mouth curved up. “Even before I became involved with reformers from the future.”
“But you were watched then for the wrong reasons,” Evangeline said flatly, then perked up. “I like this much better.”
“In the morning,” Gareth said, “I will present the terms to William Cooper. He may accept them or refuse them. The choice will be his.”
“I think he’s a good man and wants to do what’s right.” Reese gave the earl an approving nod. “I’m grateful you’re giving him a chance.”