***
Victoria pushed through the door to the dilapidated hospital that sat nestled in the slums on the south side of London. If her mother knew she was here, she’d collapse in an apoplectic fit. As it was, Lady Grantham believed her daughter to be visiting the sick and elderly Lady Hartswell in Cavendish Square.
Ha! Sick was an interesting term to apply to Lady Hartswell. The woman was barely fifty years old, and the only sick thing about her was her mind. Never had Victoria met such a martyr. Her woe-is-me personality was pathetic. If she spent five minutes in this place, she’d realize what true suffering was. But someone like Lady Hartswell wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.
“Sarah?” she called out as she hung her coat and hat on the hooks in the entryway.
“In here, miss!”
Victoria followed Sarah’s voice to the end of the corridor. “You’ll never believe how much—” She broke off when she took in the scene before her.
Sarah pulled a white sheet over a body that lay on a rustic wooden table. Victoria had come upon this scene too many times, and it made her sick all over again.
“Mr. Cole,” replied Sarah to Victoria’s unspoken question. “There was nothin’ to be done.”
Victoria shook her head. “Of course not. Consumption claims all its victims, eventually. I just wish I could have said goodbye. Poor man. Does he have any family?”
“None that we know of, miss.”
“Possessions?”
“Just the clothes on his back.”
“I will see to a proper burial. Send for the undertaker, won’t you?”
Sarah left to do Victoria’s bidding while Victoria made her way to the dead man’s side. She lifted the sheet just enough to see his pale face and wide eyes, frozen in terror.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Cole. You didn’t deserve to die this way.” With a silent prayer commending his poor soul to God, Victoria shut the man’s eyes, replaced the shroud and then left to find Sarah.
“I sent for the undertaker, miss,” she said as Victoria joined her in the next room.
“Thank you, Sarah.” She turned to a woman lying on the cot in the corner of the small room. “How are you today, Nancy?”
“Better, Miss Vickie,” came the woman’s raspy reply. “I’m sure I’ll be barkin’ orders at my no-good husband again in no time.” She tried to laugh, but it proved too much and she dissolved into a fit of coughing.
“I’m sure you will, Nancy. And I’ve secured the funds to pay for your medicine.”
“Oh, miss! Another donor?” Sarah exclaimed.
“Yes, but he—or she—prefers to remain anonymous.”
“Don’t know why all these donors wish to remain anonymous. If I were doing good, I’d want everyone to know it.”
“Well, Sarah, not everyone is as modest as you,” Victoria replied with a wink.
“They don’t mind flautin’ their wealth with clothes and parties, but when it comes to makin’ real contributions, they don’t want anyone to know. Ain’t modesty, miss, it’s embarrassment.”
“Well, let’s not spend all day making judgments on the character of anonymous donors.” Victoria wanted desperately to change the subject. It would be too easy to get caught up in the conversation and say something to incriminate herself. Not that Sarah would rat her out, but Sarah did like to talk, and accidents did happen. Victoria couldn’t take the risk.
“Here,” she said, handing over the purse full of coin that she’d pilfered the night before, “take this to Mr. Porter. Did you make a list of what we need?”
“I did, miss. This should be more than enough.”
Sarah left for the apothecary and Victoria set to visiting the patients in their little hospital. She’d discovered this place years ago on one of her many ventures into this part of town. The run-down building with its makeshift sign had caught her attention. A hospital was somewhere she could really do a lot of good, she’d thought. So she had introduced herself to Sarah and volunteered to help raise funds for medicines and supplies. Of course, Sarah and the others had been more than grateful to accept her assistance. Ever since then, Vickie had been robbing the rich and giving to the hospital, as well as others who found themselves down on their luck.
She supposed there was probably a better way of going about raising funds for the poor, but people were much more willing to part with their money when there was a gun pointed at their heads. Never mind that the gun wasn’t loaded.
Somewhere along the way, though, the hospital had become more than simply a place she donated money to. She’d learned from Sarah how to care for certain ailments, and she’d started to form relationships with the patients. Aside from the fact that they were all sick and in need of comfort, they were also profoundly human in a way that was unfamiliar to Victoria. They spoke plainly and laughed openly. Their goals in life did not amount to the acquisitions of more money or higher social statuses—they amounted to being happy, providing for their families or simply being able to pay for their next meal. Though Victoria could never be one of them, she could learn from them.
Sarah returned a short time later from the apothecary, and Victoria helped to administer medicine to the patients. By the time they were done, the undertaker had arrived to retrieve Mr. Cole’s body. They quickly discussed fees and then the man was on his way again, Mr. Cole in tow.
“Well, Sarah, I must be on my way before Mother becomes suspicious. I’ll be back on Wednesday.”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.” Sarah smiled wide, her gratitude clear on her face. “Wednesday it is.”
There was a rather high-profile gathering on Tuesday evening, and Victoria knew exactly which pompous ass she would rob that night.
The Robber Bride (Regency Historical Romance) Page 3
