Chapter 13 #2
Until then, Cassie hadn’t thought of it. But Grant hadn’t uttered a word about his clinic.
She shook her head, and Elyse sighed. “What is his game then?”
The midwife had never been very open about her private life, but Cassie could tell she had reservations about men and their intentions. But then, she huffed a laugh.
“A lord with a charity clinic and a nom de guerre.” She arched a brow at Cassie. “How much you two have in common.”
She nudged Elyse, refusing to rise to the bait.
But her friend had a point. The clinic was of paramount importance to him, just as Hope House was to her.
And it wasn’t the clinic itself he cared about; the people it served were important to him.
He’d shown that clearly with Mr. Mansouri and his son, Amir.
Cassie was thinking of the riddles he’d put to Amir, to distract the boy from the pain of his injury, when they arrived at Church Street.
Patrick let them off down the street, out of caution, since they couldn’t be sure if Mr. Young had still been watching the Crispin Street building.
She and Elyse walked to the corner of the block, then went around and onto the mews lane.
When Elyse knocked twice, then three times more, they heard footsteps approach.
Tris appeared and ushered them inside before he shut and locked the door again.
“You’re in time for stew,” Isabel said gaily as she stood at the stove, stirring a steaming pot. Her flushed cheeks appeared fuller, and her eyes fairly sparkled when Tris joined her.
He had doffed his hat, allowing his black curls to spring unrestrained. “It’s the rabbit stew my mum used to make,” he said, leaning over the pot. “Though I think this smells even better than I recall.”
“I thought you said I couldn’t even boil water,” Isabel replied.
He shrugged bashfully. “I suppose you’ve learned a thing or two since then.”
The two of them looked at each other for a moment longer than strictly necessary, and Cassie exchanged a glance with Elyse.
They both suppressed their grins. It appeared Tris was completely smitten with Isabel, and she with him.
And here they’d been, alone together all week, allowed the freedom to converse and get to know each other.
Cassie didn’t want to think anything untoward had occurred between them.
However, she easily recalled the moment in Grant’s office, when the intensity of his closeness nearly stole away her good sense.
Imagining a whole week alone with Grant in this house, with no one to interrupt them, made her belly flutter.
“The stew smells delicious,” Elyse confirmed. “How are you feeling?”
Isabel let out a small laugh. “Mostly just tired.”
Tris took the spoon from her hand. “Sit, and I’ll stir.”
She sighed as she sank into a chair, a look of appreciation cast toward Tris’s back.
“Isabel,” Cassie said after a few quiet moments. “I regret having to bring it up, but we spoke with Sister Nan yesterday. From St. Paul’s in Shadwell.”
The young woman frowned and nodded. “She told me of Hope House.”
“Yes, and she thinks she knows how the father of your child came to find you there.” Cassie briefly explained about the woman pretending to be with child and the man Sister Nan saw her meeting with immediately after.
Isabel paled, the healthy flush of her cheeks draining. “It must have been my aunt.”
At the stove, Tris put down the wooden spoon. “How did that horrible woman know to go to Sister Nan?”
Elyse sighed. “The more women we help, the more risk we face. One whisper is barely audible. One hundred whispers together become a roar.”
“Elyse is correct,” Cassie said, knowing that something would have to change if they were to continue offering a safe haven. She then peered at her driver. “Tris, you know about Isabel’s aunt?”
“I’ve told him everything,” she said. Then blushing, “I should have told you too.”
“You only have to share what you want at Hope House,” Elyse assured her.
She looked to Tris, who nodded. Then, Isabel explained. “My aunt was the only family I had left after my parents died, so I had to go live with her, even though my mother had deliberately cut her out of our lives. Lydia…well, she…”
Tris settled his hand on her shoulder, encouragingly.
“She supplies men with companions. High quality ladies,” she continued.
Cassie tried not to let her shock show. How awful it must have been for Isabel, to be made to live with such a woman. No wonder her sister had cut her out.
“One of her clients saw me one day. He was charming, bashful almost. Or so I thought, at first.”
Cassie nodded. “Mr. Young?”
Isabel sat up straighter, surprised that his name was known. But then, she corrected Cassie. “Mr. Youngdale. My aunt warned him that I was not an option, but he would not accept it. His offers for me became exorbitant. And at last, my aunt was too tempted.”
Cassie gasped in revulsion. “She sold you to him?”
Isabel nodded. “In a fashion, yes. With the stipulation that he marry me. He was obsessed, though I cannot account for why. He didn’t know me at all.”
She was pretty and young, but perhaps it had been the quest for her, or for her innocence, that had held him in her thrall, not actual affection.
“The witch didn’t even ask Isabel before agreeing,” Tris put in, his hand still on her shoulder. Isabel covered it with her own.
“Lydia said I was her burden to do with as she wished.”
It was barbaric and cruel. How someone could be so twisted as to do such a thing to a family member left Cassie grasping.
“Who is this Mr. Youngdale?” Elyse asked. “Is he gentry? A peer?”
Isabel took a bracing breath. “He is the third son of a baronet and quite wealthy. At first, he didn’t seem so awful, and I did want to be free of my aunt, so I didn’t put up a fuss. But…” She shook her head forcefully. “He is no gentleman.”
Cassie peered at Isabel’s left hand. She wore no wedding band. “Did you marry?”
“No. He found excuses to delay the wedding, as well as to pay Lydia. But that did not stop him from…” Her chin quivered. “From treating me as if we had married.”
The poor woman. She’d been manipulated and used, and she’d likely felt as though she had no one to turn to for help.
“He was already married once before,” Tris said. Then gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Tell them, Isabel.”
She nodded. “She died. He said she fell down the stairs and broke her neck, but he’s said other things to me, warning me that if I disobey him or make him angry, I might just find myself at the bottom of some stairs too. I think… I think he pushed her.”
From his anger in the alley, Cassie didn’t doubt Mr. Youngdale was a violent man. But if his wife died in such a manner, it had to have been investigated. Cassie thought of Hugh and Audrey, and wondered if they might be able to find out more.
“I hid the fact that I was with child for as long as I could, but then, he noticed my growing middle. After accusing me of being unfaithful, he said he was going to marry me at last and keep the child.” Isabel frowned.
“But he made it sound like he wasn’t going to keep me.
I got scared. So, I ran. I’d been moving around for a week when I heard of Hope House and…
” She shrugged. “And here I am. I won’t marry him.
And I won’t allow him anywhere near my child. ”
Cassie reached across the table and clasped her forearm. “You won’t have to. We’ll protect you.”
They would find a way.
“We’ll make sure you’re safe,” Elyse agreed.
“And we can arrange for you to leave London before your baby is born,” Cassie adds, thinking of Fournier Downs or Greenbriar. She had resources, and she wanted to share them with Isabel more than anything.
Isabel’s eyes shone with tears. Tris stood beside her, and Cassie knew he would not yield. He cared for Isabel, even if the affection was new and formed under difficult circumstances.
As she and Elyse took their leave, a weight settled onto Cassie’s shoulders. This was becoming more complicated. And dangerous. Mr. Youngdale was wealthy, and he likely had many connections to people with power.
Well, so did Cassie. Yet only one such connection knew of her ties to Hope House and her involvement with Isabel. She had no choice—she had to ask Grant for his help. As much as she dreaded seeing him again, Isabel’s safety was more important than her own damn pride.