“Oh, I see.”
But it was clear the woman had no idea what was happening.
Mr. Jones looked at Emily suspiciously. “Do you chits know each other?”
Emily nodded and tried to appear as innocent as possible as she said, “Why yes, we do. It is because of Mrs. Young that I thought of your fine establishment. She told me how patient you have been with her rent situation and I thought, Now that’s the kind of man I would want as a landlord.”
“I wh-what—?” Mrs. Young started to say, but Rose interjected before the other woman could finish.
“Excuse me, madam, is this your bag?”
Mrs. Young looked in surprise at the reticule Rose was holding out.
Emily felt a small twinge of guilt for their subterfuge about the bag. She had seen Mrs. Young’s pocketbook on many occasions, and it was not hard to find a duplicate. After putting a pound coin and a number of shillings in the bag, it was ready to play its part in their plan.
“It certainly looks like mine,” Mrs. Young replied uncertainly, “but I don’t see how that’s possible.”
She turned to look over her shoulder, presumably checking for her real pocketbook.
Not wanting to give her time to actually find it and thereby foiling their plan, Emily quickly said, “Well, isn’t it nice we found it? Who knows what kind of trouble you would be in if we had not?”
Rose shook the little bag by its drawstrings as she handed it to Mrs. Young.
“Every penny is precious these days,” Rose said with a smile.
Behind the frazzled woman, a clock chimed. Emily used it as the excuse they needed to vacate the premises.
“Oh dear, Rose,” she said anxiously. “I do believe we are late for our next appointment.”
“Are we?” Rose said, convincingly dismayed. “Then we had better be off.”
Emily and Rose said hurried “thank-yous” and “farewells” to the confused landlord and his equally befuddled tenant as they rushed down the hall toward the stairwell. They went to their hack and sat inside for a number of minutes, gathering their wits about them. When they thought they had calmed enough, they reemerged with baskets of food.
They wanted to go back and check on Sally immediately, but thought buying a little time for Mr. Jones to become otherwise occupied would be prudent. Distributing the baskets seemed the perfect solution.
Emily had already developed a story—thus allowing her to give without censure—that revolved around the local parish. She told those who asked, that St. Leonard’s had taken her in during a time of great despair. In a show of gratitude, she volunteered to deliver the donated goods to the community.
It had become Emily’s habit to meet with a young girl named Eleanor Cooper whenever she was handing out provisions. Eleanor was only fourteen but was already completely on her own, having lost her parents during a particularly brutal winter a year or so prior. She had found meager employment at a local pub and was given a small cot and cupboard to use at the same church from which Emily claimed sanctuary.
It was, in fact, how they had met.
Emily had stopped by St. Leonard’s before beginning her charitable endeavors to receive their blessing, and they had introduced her to Eleanor. When Emily had learned of her story and how she had ended up at the parish, she had asked if she could use it as her own. The younger girl had said yes, but with the condition she be allowed to help.
It was the beginning of a friendly relationship that had improved both ladies’ lives. Emily truly looked forward to spending time with the resilient and clever girl. The two had much in common, and Eleanor was a wealth of information regarding all the happenings in the less reputable parts of London. The pub promoted loose lips, it seemed.
In exchange for news, Emily was teaching Eleanor about how to run a household. She had dreams of getting a position in a fine home and leaving the pub far, far behind.
After meeting with Eleanor, the three girls walked up and down the streets, leaving their packages on various stoops. When they were left with only one, Emily and Rose said goodbye to Eleanor and returned to the Youngs’ building.
Looking around surreptitiously, they cautiously made their way back to the small family’s rooms. There was no guarantee that the landlord would have returned to his office by now, but they had to take the chance.
A light knock on the door and once again Mrs. Young stood before them.
“Emily! I thought you had left,” Mrs. Young gushed. “I have the most wonderful news.”
Emily’s heart leaped. It sounded as if Lady Lancaster’s plan had worked.
“News?” she replied. “May we come in to hear it?”
“By all means, yes.”
Mrs. Young ushered Emily and Rose into the small apartment. The family couldn’t afford much by way of living space and therefore only had two tiny rooms.
The main room was comprised of a kitchen area and a space for a couch, area rug, and a couple rickety-looking chairs. A worn table was pushed up against the wall between the end of the couch and the only kitchen counter. Four stools were crammed under the table.
Emily could only guess that the table would be pulled away from the wall during meals and pushed back in place after eating. There certainly wasn’t any way it could be left out permanently if they wanted to move around at all. A desk filled the other wall of the living space.
The door to the second room was ajar and Emily could see that the one bed and a trunk barely fit in the tight area. Sally and the children must share the bed, Emily surmised, and the stove from the kitchen looks to be all they have to keep both rooms warm.
Despite being sparsely furnished and surprisingly gray in atmosphere, the apartment was clean and tidy, with bursts of color here and there.
Sally certainly knows how to make the most of a small dilapidated space, Emily thought.
The older woman motioned the girls to a frayed, but still serviceable couch. They sat down politely.
“What is your news?” Rose queried as soon as the woman had also made herself comfortable with the children once again positioned behind their mother.
“Only this,” Mrs. Young began, “the bag you found…the bag you handed me not more than an hour ago…it had enough money in it to clear my debt with Mr. Jones with some leftover besides.”
“Did it?” Rose replied, wide-eyed.
“Isn’t it a blessing we found it for you,” Emily added, jumping for joy on the inside.
“That is just it,” Mrs. Young said. “The bag isn’t mine. Mine is just over there where I always keep it.”
She pointed to a spot on the shelf where an identical bag to the one they had given her sat.
“Well now,” Emily gasped, “isn’t that something? Us finding a bag just like yours in the hall outside your door.”
“It is a remarkable coincidence,” Rose agreed. “Perhaps God is smiling on you today, Sally.”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Young exclaimed. “I just had the most horrible thought.”
“What, dear?” Emily asked, leaning forward with concern.
“Someone must be missing that money. Perhaps I should have turned it in to the authorities.”
“Now, now, Sally,” Emily replied quickly, “don’t fret about such things.”
“Emily is correct,” Rose concurred. “Was there anything in the pocketbook that could be used to identify its owner?”
“Well, no,” Mrs. Young said thoughtfully. “There was only the money.”
“Then there is nothing the authorities could do in any case. I think the money is rightfully yours.”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Young lamented. “You actually found the bag, Rose. By that thinking, the money should be yours.”
Emily looked at Rose anxiously. Surely they would not be defeated by their own plan.
Rose reached out and patted Mrs. Young’s knee.
“The truth is,” Rose said kindly, “you have two darlings to look after and I have only me. I would like you
to keep the coins for you and your family.”
The tears welling up in Mrs. Young’s eyes were evident, and Emily had to physically stop herself from hugging Rose. It was brilliant of her to mention the woman’s family. No mother would ever turn down help for her children if given the chance to take it honorably.
“Then I must thank you properly with some tea.”
Rose and Emily obliged themselves to the woman’s offering before making their leave.
Emily was looking forward to telling Lady Lancaster and the rest of her friends about their success. Mrs. Young had even talked about moving to a more reputable building with the money she had left after settling her debt with Mr. Jones. Emily, with all her trips to deliver food to some of London’s poorest areas, happily recommended some of the nicer tenements with which she had experience.
As she was unpacking the food they had brought, Emily’s eye was drawn to some papers sticking out from behind a battered old desk just opposite her. The placement looked suspicious. Who stored papers behind a desk?
Passing her task off to Rose, Emily went to investigate. Crouching over, she reached for the strangely placed documents. Only the corners were visible, but it was enough on which to get a grip. When they didn’t immediately become loose, she turned to Sally.
“Sally, dear. I believe something may have fallen behind your desk here.”
Sally looked over in surprise. “In back? How strange. I just moved that desk to clean behind it, and I didn’t see anything.”
The woman came over to investigate herself.
“That’s odd,” she said as she reached for the papers. “Perhaps when I moved the desk, it shook something loose?”
Sally was also unable to remove the pages, so she set about moving the desk away from the wall once again. Then she and Emily both examined the situation once more. It didn’t take long to see that the only way to get to the documents would require them to remove the back panel of the desk.
“Do you have a tool of some sort we can use to pry the back off?” Emily asked, looking around.
Sally walked over to the sink and grabbed a butter knife.
“Will this work?”
“I believe so. Let me see.”
Emily slipped the tip of the knife between the thin panel and the heavier wood that made up the bulk of the desk. With just the barest twist of the utensil, the panel came away easily, and a rather large packet of papers dropped to the floor. It was bound with twine and didn’t appear old in any way. No discoloration or signs of moisture were present. Someone had hidden the documents recently.
“Do you recognize these?” Emily asked, holding up the packet.
Sally took the papers and leafed through them slowly. “They seem to be drawings of some kind. My husband did enjoy scribbling pictures now and then, so these probably belong to him. There’s writing on this last page, but I can’t read very well. The truth is, I saw him with many papers prior to his death, but he had become very secretive toward the end. When I would ask what he was doing, he would tell me only that it was a plan for our future. For the future of our kids.”
“May I see them?”
“Of course. Maybe you can make sense of them.”
Sally handed the packet back to Emily before excusing herself to return to the children, who had begun bickering at the other end of the room over a well-worn toy.
“Rose, you should see these,” Emily said softly, walking over to her friend. Rose set the now empty basket on the floor, freeing up the counter for the papers.
Emily spread the pages out so that she and Rose could get a better look.
“They look like a rough drawing of some sort of contraption,” Rose said, leaning in for a closer look. “They are very crude, and I don’t see any measurements or notes anywhere. I am at a loss as to why someone would draw this…whatever it is.”
Emily had pulled out another sheet in the packet. “Look, Emily. This looks like a floor plan, doesn’t it?”
“That would be my guess, but again this doesn’t contain any identifying information. It’s all rooms, squares, and circles. What do you suppose this all means?”
“I don’t know, but this last page is easy enough to understand,” Emily handed the note to Rose.
We have an agreement. If you want to see the money, you will get me what I need or you and your family will feel my wrath.
It was signed with only a letter: F
“Oh dear,” Rose breathed. “What had Mr. Young gotten himself into?”
Emily showed the drawings to Sally. There was no sense in revealing the threatening letter unless it was absolutely necessary.
“I have never seen those before. I can’t imagine why they were in our desk.”
“Could they be your husband’s?” Emily asked, placing her hand on the other woman’s arm gently.
“I suppose,” Sally replied with a frown. “He had started a second job recently—not even four weeks ago. Perhaps these have something to do with that?”
“What do you know about the new job? Where was it?”
“Oh, I am not certain. He was very vague about it. Night watchman for some place or another. I was more concerned about his working another job than I was about where he was working.”
“And why is that?” Rose asked.
“My husband was sick. He had contracted the white plague. He took the job so that he could leave a little something for the kids and me. But I was worried he would work himself into an even earlier grave.”
Sally looked at her children playing quietly in the corner.
“I was right, you know,” she said wistfully. “He died within a week of starting that new job. I told him his time would be better spent with us, his family, but nothing would change his mind.”
“He wanted to provide for you in the best way he knew how,” Emily said. “He loved you, clearly.”
Mrs. Young could only nod as tears threatened to overflow. She turned away as if embarrassed by her show of emotion.
“We have overstayed our welcome,” Emily said sympathetically. “Rose, have you finished with the food?”
“I certainly have. Thank you so much for the tea and hospitality.”
A more composed Sally faced them to say farewell.
“I cannot thank you enough for the basket. The children and I are sure to enjoy the fare.”
Emily leaned in for a warm hug.
“May I take these papers?” she asked Sally once the embrace had finished.
“By all means. They are nothing to me.”
With some final goodbyes to the children, Emily and Rose made their leave.
On the one hand, Emily was pleased with how the day went. The Youngs were enjoying the basket of food Rose and Emily had delivered, and the trouble with the landlord had been resolved. It was truly gratifying making a difference in a person’s life. On the other hand, the drawings and the letter they had found were troubling. What had Mr. Young been doing? Why was he being threatened? Did it have to do with his new job?
There were just so many questions.
Emily was still considering her next steps when she arrived home after stopping at Hannah’s once again to change back into her regular clothes, but that quickly came to an end when Alex burst through her front door while she was hanging up her pelisse, with nary a ring or a knock.
“Alexander Bredon! Whatever do you think you’re doing?” Emily exclaimed.
…
Alex looked around for the nearest room. He then dragged Emily forcibly to it and shut the door firmly behind them.
“Alexander, I demand you unhand me at once.”
Emily tried to snatch her arm away, but the Alexander wasn’t ready to let her go. He was so distracted by what he had seen he wasn’t thinking straight.
“I see you have put your fancy dress back on,” Alex ground out. “That’s good. We can’t let anyone know you have been to the city.”
Emily went pale. “Wh-what are you talking about?”
All the color came rushing back into Emily’s face.
“Were you following us?”
Alexander finally let go of Emily but only because he did not really want to answer her question. He began pacing around the room.
“Ah, well yes,” Alex replied slowly, “but it’s not what you think…”
“What right do you have to follow us like a common dog?” Emily nearly screeched. “We were perfectly safe. I go into the city nearly every week.”
Alex stopped and looked at Emily in horror. “By yourself?”
“Naturally.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that.”
How had he not known that Emily went to the city regularly on what he supposed were more charitable visits? He would have thought that would have been brought to his attention by one of his friends before now. Truth be told, he didn’t know the chit very well. Their mutual dislike did not inspire many long and informational conversations.
Emily sighed and walked over to the door. “What I do on my own time is none of your concern. And locking us up in this room alone is asinine. If someone were to find us here…”
“Leave it,” Alex said, taking two long strides to block the exit. “We need to talk about what I saw during your outing.”
“Mr. Bredon,” Emily said coolly, “as I have already stated, it is none of your business. Why should I care what you saw, in any case?”
“Because I think you and Rose may be in danger,” Alex exploded, turning back to grab Emily by the shoulders. “Serious danger.”
Emily looked at Alex in shock.
“What are you talking about?”
“As foolish as I may be for following you, I found myself in need of a hiding place in that hovel that passes as a place to live. Twice might I add, since you decided to wander around the blasted area for an hour. I tried all the doors until I found one that opened. It turned out to be a storage closet of some kind.”
“Why didn’t you just leave?” Emily interrupted. “You already admitted you were on a fool’s errand.”
Alex opened his mouth to tell her about his intuition, but he didn’t want to get her off on another tangent. Only David was familiar enough with his extra sense to take his word at face value.
A Rogue for Emily Page 7
