“Can I be of no further service?”
She smiled at him. He really was an engaging gentleman. “Can you mount a cavalry charge against prejudice? No? Then I suppose there is nothing else.”
“Very well, but I’ll see you home first. And if I might make a suggestion? Try enlisting your staff’s sympathy on Maddie’s behalf, rather than simply commanding them. A man will do as he’s ordered, but he’ll put his heart into a cause in which he believes.” The lieutenant glanced down at the weeping girl, whose sobs were at last beginning to diminish. “The end result may be the same, but I believe the difference to Maddie would be marked.”
“You’re right, of course. Win their hearts?” She thought of her butler Timms and Mrs. Woburn, her housekeeper, their exacting standards and the firm hold they maintained over the staff. “Well,” she sighed, not at all sure her persuasive abilities were up to the task, “I shall give it a go.”
As Maddie’s sobs dissipated to hiccupping shudders, she seemed at last to recall herself, and pushed out of Clarissa’s arms. “Excuse me, ma’am! I b-be so s-sorry…”
“Rest easy, Maddie. I’m taking you to my home, where we’ll get you some proper clothes and something to eat. Everything will look much brighter once you’re comfortable,” Clarissa reassured the girl to forestall the fresh bout of tears that threatened. The remainder of the short ride took place in near silence.
The lieutenant insisted upon helping her assist Maddie into the warm kitchen, where in front of the curious staff he treated the girl with conspicuous solicitude.
Having instructed her already-frowning housekeeper to find Maddie some decent clothes and the cook to rustle up some meat and bread, Clarissa left the kitchen to walk Lieutenant Standish out.
“I’m sorry our evening was disrupted. We must make up another theatre party, soon.”
“With the greatest pleasure.” Lieutenant Standish took her hand and kissed it. “You are a remarkable lady, Miss Beaumont. Most people would have had their coachman pull the girl free and drive on. Had I not been with you, I’m ashamed to admit, I should probably have done so myself. I am proud to claim your acquaintance.”
And so should I have done, a month ago. It pricked her conscience to accept a compliment of which she knew herself to be entirely unworthy, but though she trusted his discretion, the fewer who knew of the escapade that had elicited this night’s compassion, the better. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Though I suspect if our ‘good deed’ becomes public knowledge, we shall both be subjected more to ridicule than praise.”
The image of one hard, disapproving face sprang immediately to mind, and she sighed. “Thank you again for your help, and good night.”
When she returned to the kitchen, Maddie was in the storeroom changing clothes. Most of the staff, expressions ranging from surprise to dismay to disgust, idled about, clearly still discussing the precipitous arrival of this outsider in baud’s attire. “One of Miss Clarissa’s latest starts,” Clare overheard before that member of the group noticed her and fell silent.
Mrs. Woburn, her face set in disapproving lines, came forward.
“Begging your pardon, Miss, but the staff have asked that I speak with you about that…Young Person.”
“Please accompany me to the bookroom, Mrs. Woburn. I am most anxious to talk with you as well.”
As the housekeeper followed her down the hall to the room that stored the household account books, Clarissa rapidly reviewed what she knew about Mrs. Woburn, searching for a link that would lead from condemnation to compassion.
“Were you able to find Maddie suitable garments?” Clarissa asked once they were behind the closed door.
“Yes, miss. The under housemaid had an old dress I thought might fit. And what should you be wishful to do with her, once she’s decently dressed?”
“That’s what we must discuss. Molly, the upstairs maid, is your niece, is she not? Sent to you from your sister in the country?”
“Yes, Miss.” A look of alarm crossed Woburn’s face. “Do you find some fault with her—”
“No, of course not! Since you had the training of her, how could she be less than superior? I’m sure you and your sister are very proud of her.”
The housekeeper bobbed a curtsey. “We are, and thank you, Miss.”
“Which brings me to Maddie. She is not at all what her appearance might have led you to believe.”
Woburn’s warmth rapidly chilled. “Indeed?”
“Truly. She, too, came from the country a few weeks ago, intending to go into service at her cousin’s household. But she never arrived there. Being country-bred yourself, you can imagine how noisy and confusing London must have seemed to a young girl straight out of Hampshire. At the posting inn where the stage put in, she was offered tea by what she took to be a kindly older woman. Only to awake later in a brothel. Now you may think ’tis a Banbury tale,” Clarissa waved a hand to counter Mrs. Woburn’s raised eyebrows, “but I believe it the truth. Somehow she managed to escape tonight, and threw herself under our passing carriage. Aye, and you may ask John Coachman yourself, ’tis a miracle she wasn’t trampled outright. She told us, when the procuress chasing her tried to wrest her free, that she’d rather die than go back. She begged us to take her to London Bridge, that she might end her life, believing no decent soul would ever again befriend a girl who’d been disgraced and ruined.”
Clarissa fell silent, watching the progression from disbelief, to horror, to grudging sympathy on the housekeeper’s face. “If she’s truly an innocent, why don’t she find her kin here, or return to the country?”
“Can you imagine how Molly would feel if such had befallen her? Do you think she would have dared seek you out? Or be able to bear returning home to tell her mama what happened to her in London?”
Once again she allowed the housekeeper to mull over her words. “No, I expect she’d be too ashamed,” Mrs. Woburn admitted at last.
“Ashamed enough to die of it. But that isn’t right, is it, Mrs. Woburn? What happened was not her fault. She’s a good, honest, upright young girl who wanted to better herself and be a credit to her family. ’Tis only fair she have such a chance, don’t you think?”
The housekeeper gave her a shrewd look. “Here, you mean, Miss?”
“Here, Mrs. Woburn. But her situation is, as you well know, especially delicate. The staff received a rather negative first impression of Maddie.” Pleased with her progress so far, Clarissa proceeded to deliver her final salvo. “I might have confided her story to Timms, but your influence with the staff is considerable, and I felt there are some things only another woman could best understand.”
Since the two household giants who ruled the staff were in constant, subtle rivalry, her approach produced exactly the results Clarissa had hoped. “Menfolk seldom understand anything,” Mrs. Woburn said with a sniff.
Cautiously Clarissa pressed her advantage. “You agree to take her in service, then?”
“I expect I can train one more maid,” Mrs. Woburn allowed.
“And you will ensure she is treated fairly?”
“If I treat her so, the others will also.”
“Excellent. Make no mistake, she is to mind and do her work, just like any other maid. If she does not, she’ll be turned off, regardless of the misfortune of her circumstances. But I suspect she will work twice as hard.”
“Can’t say as I like having such as her here hangin’ about the footmen, but I’ll train her proper.”
Clarissa felt a surge of satisfaction. With Mrs. Woburn an ally, Maddie need not fear her reception by the rest of the staff. Lieutenant Standish was right—persuasion had worked much better than a flat order.
“After she’s been clothed and fed, send Maddie to my chambers, Mrs. Woburn. I should like to ascertain more of what happened when she was abducted.”
Some half hour later, a knock sounded at her sitting room door and Maddie entered, garbed now in a sober gray gown and crisply starched apron. She’d scrubbed hersel
f from top to toe, revealing under the grime and desperation a cream-skinned, fresh-faced country girl whose obvious innocence was so at odds with the circumstances under which they’d found her that Clarissa’s rage stirred again.
This tender young maid should be looking forward to walking out with a handsome young footman, to courtship and weddings and babes. A future that, even if the staff finally accepted her, would now probably never be hers.
She tried to set aside the ache in her heart. “You’re looking much refreshed, Maddie.”
After sinking into a curtsey deep enough to have honored a Royal, the girl rose to fix on Clarissa adoring eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“Oh, Miss, how can I ever thank ye? Mrs. Woburn says ye’ve offered me a place here in yer own household. ’Twas mercy enough to save me from that—but to do this too, and for one such as me…” the girl’s voice broke. “Why, ye be a blessed saint.”
“Nonsense,” Clarissa said, uncomfortable with the novelty of being worshiped. “I simply thought you an honest maid who will be an excellent addition to my staff.”
“Aye, Miss, ye’ll never regret takin’ me on, I swear it! I’ll work for ye twenty hours a day, I will, doin’ whatever ye wish of me.”
“Following Mrs. Woburn’s orders and learning your job well is more than enough. But I would try to do something else for you. If you can describe to me the place where…that woman kept you, I will see if we cannot at least recover your belongings.”
Maddie’s joyous look faded. “Thank ye kindly, Miss, but I dunno about that. There was two other girls she done tricked into coming there and they said likely she sold all me things immediate. So’s we had nuthin’ to run off in but…such as what I was wearin.’”
Cunning logic, Clarissa knew, having observed the results firsthand. Dressed as Maddie was in whore’s garments, none of the crowd had believed the girl’s story. Nor, had Clarissa not chanced by, would any have helped Maddie escape. Once again Clarissa recalled her attacker in the freize coat. He’d likely have haggled with the baud over price and then pulled the girl free to use himself.
Clarissa was mulling over that when the first of Maddie’s words finally struck her. “Did you say there were two other girls abducted in the same manner as you?”
“Aye, Miss. Jest like me, they’d come down to Lunnon to find work, and met…her…at the postin’ inn, acting so kind and helpful. Next thing they knows, they wake up at…her house. They’re good girls, Miss, I swear to ye! But neither of ’em had any kin here, and no money to get ’em nowheres else, so what good would it do for ’em to try escaping? Anyone what found ’em wouldda jest sent ’em back to Maisie’s, like that gent tonight wanted to do with me.”
“But that’s abduction, kidnapping, and entrapment into vice! Surely the law can do something to stop it!”
Maddie shrugged with the fatalism of the powerless. “Dunno, Miss. But sure as sure, Maisie’d swear the girls come into it willin.’ Who’d believe otherwise from the likes of us, or even care?”
“Still, something should be done. I shall look into it immediately. But it’s late now, and you must be weary. You’re safe now, Maddie. Mrs. Woburn will show you where to sleep and begin your training tomorrow.”
“Yes’m.” Once again Maddie curtseyed and walked to the door. She hesitated on the threshold and then, to Clarissa’s surprise, ran back, seized Clarissa’s hand and kissed it. “Thank ye, Miss. I’ll never fergit yer kindness. If the Lord truly does reward them what cares fer the meek, ye’ve earned yerself a crown in Heaven.”
Though she knew she in no way merited the accolade, Clarissa was still touched. “I shall call on you when I meet St. Peter! Sleep well, Maddie.”
After the girl withdrew, Clarissa donned her night rail and let her maid braid her hair. But the horror of Maddie’s ruin, so painfully close to her own experience, kept her from sleep.
She stood at her window overlooking the London night and thought of the heavyset baud, the glimmer of the knife in her attacker’s beefy hands, the river that beckoned in Maddie’s despair. A glass of wine later, she’d not yet figured out how to right the wrong done Maddie and the other two girls in Maisie’s bawdy house, but she had formulated the beginnings of a plan that might prevent the ruin of other innocents.
Though doubtless some would call her “reckless” to intrude upon a dangerous world whose workings she little understood, she simply couldn’t let the outrage done to Maddie go unchecked. Early tomorrow morning, she would visit Bow Street.
Chapter Fourteen
Sinjin sat stiffly on the well-padded squabs of Mr. Motrum’s luxurious carriage and told himself everything was going perfectly. The day was cool but fine, with bright sun and just the hint of a breeze. During their walk in the park he’d be able to detach Miss Motrum from her chatty chaperone, who’d not ceased talking since the equipage left Mr. Motrum’s townhouse, and get to know better the young woman who very probably would become his wife. An idea with which, he told himself firmly, he was becoming increasingly comfortable.
Well, if not comfortable, at least resigned.
After reaching the park, the necessities of handing out Miss Motrum and her duenna caused a merciful if momentary lull in that lady’s conversation. Then, with suitable comments on the beauty of the morning, the freshness of the air and the pleasing arrangement of the shrubbery, the threesome set off down one of the pathways.
This is your chance, so use it. Abandoning the protection of silence, Sinjin forced himself to converse.
“The arrangement of park is very like the one at my home, Sandiford Court. You enjoy the country, Miss Motrum?”
The young lady opened her lips, but before she could answer, Mrs. Cartwright said, “Oh, Anne delights in the country! She fair rhapsodizes over it every time we visit. Though to be sure, she’s town-bred, and the country can be a bit…savage for one of such delicate sensibilities.”
Sinjin wondered with wry amusement what would, from this quiet girl, be considered “rhapsodizing.” Producing two complete sentences together, perhaps?
“You attended school in the country, Miss Motrum?”
“Oh no, Anne’s papa couldn’t have borne having her so far away,” the duenna once again answered. “She’s quite the apple of his eye, aren’t you, my pet?” Mrs. Cartwright patted her charge’s hand. “Anne attended a select ladies’ academy here in London.”
Irritated, Sinjin cast a glance at Miss Motrum, but she seemed unperturbed at having her part of the conversation usurped. Turning pointedly toward the young lady, he asked, “And what did you find of most interest during your studies, Miss Motrum?”
“Dear Anne is quite accomplished! Not a bluestocking, of course, but excessively skilled in all the ladylike arts. She sings like a lark, plays the pianoforte splendidly and her embroidery—ah, such fine, tiny stitches she makes!”
Gritting his teeth, Sinjin hung on to his patience, refraining with some difficulty from giving Mrs. Cartwright the set-down hovering on his tongue. When the lady finally paused for breath, he once again addressed her charge.
“I admire a skilled needlewoman, Miss Motrum. On several occasions in the Peninsula, my lieutenant’s wife, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, saved me on parade day by reattaching a button or stitching up a tear.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Cartwright gave him a sharp look, as if affronted. “Dear Anne does fine work only. We have maids to handle the mending.”
So simple stitchery was beneath her? Though disconcerted, he persevered. “I’m sure your fine work is, um, fine. Are you skilled in the kitchen, Miss Motrum?”
“Anne handles all her papa’s entertainments, though of course she wouldn’t stoop to actually preparing food her—”
“Mrs. Cartwright,” Sinjin interrupted, his patience finally exhausted, “I should like to hear Miss Motrum’s reply from her own charming lips, if you please.”
Halted in midsentence, the older woman gaped at him, mouth open like a beached trout. In the silence that ensued, Mi
ss Motrum at last spoke.
“Mrs. Cartwright, I fear I left my muff in the coach. Would you be so kind as to fetch it?”
Sinjin could see in the expressions crossing the duenna’s face a battle between her desire to succor her charge and a dislike of losing control of the conversation. After a short struggle, protection won. “Yes of course, Anne dear. I shan’t be but a minute.”
Once the woman was out of earshot, Miss Motrum turned to Sinjin. “You must forgive her. She’s very nervous.”
“That makes two of us,” Sinjin said with feeling.
Miss Motrum smiled. “Three. We’ve never entertained an aristocrat before.”
“I’m just another man of your father’s acquaintance. Please, treat me as you would any other of his friends.”
That wasn’t precisely the case and they both knew it. Reflecting upon how silent Miss Motrum had been at both their meetings, Sinjin felt a pang of unease. “You did consent to receive me, did you not? You were not…coerced.”
“Oh, no, Papa would never do that! Of course, he thinks me fit to become a princess royal, though I do not aspire to such heights.”
“To what do you aspire?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“To wed a kind husband who values me,” she replied. “I fear I have no skills at mending or cooking, nor am I clever about finances. Papa has always taken care of that. And I regret I know nothing whatsoever about farms.”
His cherished image of a hardworking, skillful helpmeet like Mrs. Trapper was beginning to crack. A hitherto suppressed doubt about the wisdom of this whole enterprise struggled to emerge. Could his plan be mistaken?
Before he could reassemble his rattled thoughts, Mrs. Cartwright approached, her face set in rigid lines as a young man marched determinedly after her.
“Jeremy, what are you doing in the park?” Miss Motrum exclaimed. “Oh, forgive me. Lord Sandiford, this is Jeremy Wickham, from my father’s London office. Colonel Lord Sandiford is a…friend of Papa’s, Jeremy.”
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