by Abigail Agar
“No, no, no,” Lord Linfield said, his smile widening. He chewed the last of his bit of scone before passing the paper back to her, slipping it into place beside the others. “If that’s any indication of your talent, Lady Elizabeth, I can’t imagine that all of London won’t be in uproar. Truly. I haven’t read anything so insightful in ages. Not even in the previous speech you sent me.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “I feel most fortuitous that I ever discovered your writing, Lady Elizabeth. Being allowed to speak your words aloud has been a brilliant privilege.”
Peter gaped at both of them. Bess was unable to hold Lord Linfield’s gaze for long. No longer hungry, she pushed her scone to the side and tilted her head towards the door. She stuttered slightly, searching for words.
“I think, I mean. I believe it might be time for us to take that stroll,” she said, unable to find the words to thank him for his kindness. “If you’re still up for it, Lord Linfield.”
Lord Linfield ate the last of his scone, ensuring that Peter knew just how scrumptious it was before rising from his chair. Bess was conscious of her nerves, which seemed to wrap around her throat and make it difficult for her to speak. Peter had agreed to come along, and he wrapped the scarf Irene had recently knitted for him (during a night of panic and rage at someone at The Rising Sun offices) around and around his neck.
The three of them marched along the side of the road, in what was, admittedly, one of the rougher areas of London. Even seeing Lord Linfield amongst the people of the neighbourhood was a shock to Bess, as the contrast was so great. Lord Linfield was very much representative of her old life, her life of money and pleasure, of dancing and Society, whilst her new neighbourhood represented the hardships of her life.
“Where are we going, Lady Elizabeth?” Lord Linfield finally asked, breaking the silence.
Peter whirled around, giving Lord Linfield a big-toothed grin. “It’s absolutely incredible what you don’t know about Lady Elizabeth,” he tittered. “How is it you could have worked alongside her for these months and not known? Of course, I’ve known her for years. I suppose you wouldn’t have guessed that.”
Bess grinned sheepishly, loving the way Peter was taking over—trying to bolster her reputation in front of this man. Perhaps Peter sensed just how much Lord Linfield meant to her. Or perhaps Peter simply wanted to appear impressive to Lord Linfield, himself. Regardless, it was a tender operation.
“You’re making me feel rather foolish, Peter,” Lord Linfield said, although his voice was playful. His eyes turned from Lady Elizabeth, to Peter, and back. It seemed as though he was enjoying the show.
“My parents were both killed, unfortunately,” Peter said. “And I was out on the street. It was a tragic time, truly. But Lady Elizabeth opened a shelter within the larger homeless centre, for children like me and my sister.” He paused. A shadow flickered across his face.
Lord Linfield looked incredulous. He adjusted his hat as a carriage passed them, clunking along the cobblestones. “My goodness,” was all he could say. It was clear that whatever he’d felt was the “performance” was now finished.
Bess supposed there wasn’t much to say beyond that.
“But you must understand, Lord Linfield,” Peter offered. “She knows just what the children need to hear. She brought a remarkable comfort, in the wake of so much sadness. Especially after my sister, well.”
It was already clear what Peter was going to say. Lord Linfield just gave the boy a firm nod. An explanation was not necessary, especially as it seemed too difficult to verbalise.
They were arriving at the shelter itself. Bess halted just outside the doorway, watching as Lord Linfield peered in through the window. Suddenly, Peter bolted up the steps of the centre, waving his hands at the boys and girls he’d once known and grown up alongside, on the streets. Lord Linfield returned his gaze to Lady Elizabeth. It was one of confusion, of intrigue.
“You must be some sort of saint,” he offered.
Lady Elizabeth couldn’t help chuckling. “I can assure you, that’s not true,” she said.
“Then what led you to do this?” Lord Linfield asked, tilting his head. “I’ve known many women in my time in Society. Countless women who speak countless languages, who’ve read books and talked their way in circles around me with their intellect. Truly, they didn’t have the writing chops you do—but beyond that …” He paused for a moment, again peering in through the centre window. “Beyond that, you’ve saved the lives of so many, Lady Elizabeth. What on earth led you to do such an act?”
Suddenly, Peter peered back out from the doorway. He gestured, tossing his body back towards the large room behind him. “Lord Linfield, come along! Don’t you want to meet the others?”
Bess opened her lips to tell Peter that of course, Lord Linfield had much better things to do that afternoon than meet all of Peter’s friends from the street. But to her surprise, Lord Linfield hurried forward, dropping his boot against the first step.
“Of course, Peter,” he said. “I would like nothing more.”
Bess felt she was lost in some kind of dream. She followed behind Lord Linfield, into the smog of children and other homeless people. Lady Margaret was manning one of the soup stations and sent her hand waving towards Bess, giving her a wide grin.
Lord Linfield lowered his head to Bess’ ear, remarking on Lady Margaret, “Why, I didn’t know that Lady Margaret was also a member of staff?”
Bess grinned. “It’s how we met, actually.”
“There’s so much I don’t know about you, Lady Elizabeth,” Lord Linfield said. “You’re eternally a mystery.”
Peter introduced Lord Linfield to several of his friends, the girls and boys he’d grown up with on the street. Bess was surprised to note how humble Lord Linfield was as he spoke to them, frequently falling to his knees and shaking the younger ones’ hands. In turn, the children took to him, frequently passing their bowls of soup to him in offering.
“No, darling,” Lord Linfield said. “In fact, it’s terribly important that you eat all of this soup yourself, so that you can grow big and strong. I myself am already big and strong.”
Peter beamed at Lady Elizabeth from the far end of the room, tilting his head towards Lord Linfield as he made his way through the ranks of the shelter. Lady Margaret blushed wildly when he addressed her, his voice familiar. The children were impressed that she’d met him before they had, and they crowded around her, whispering. “How did you come to know Lord Linfield?” they asked. “Is it true that he’s going to be in Parliament?” “Do you think he’ll ever come back to see us?”
The children were certainly thrilled to see Bess, although, of course, her appearance wasn’t as much of a surprise. “Hello, my darling,” Bess said to Charlotte, a girl of around eight, who’d been coming to the shelter for the past two years. “I expect you’ve been keeping yourself warm?”
Charlotte shivered against her, drawing her arms tight around Bess’ legs. “It’s really quite marvellous to see you.” Charlotte sighed, sounding more exhausted than an 85-year-old woman. “I wait for you to come every week, Lady Elizabeth.”
Lord Linfield moved towards Bess and Charlotte, his smile broadening as he approached. “What on earth have I found here?” he asked.
Charlotte sneaked her head out from Bess’ skirts, sniffing. “It’s only that I love her very much, My Lord.” She sighed.
Bess pressed her lips together, feeling her heart surge against her ribcage. The children were falling into their after-dinner routine of dancing, singing, laughing louder than they ordinarily were allowed to on the street. Bess knew it was time to duck out of there, to leave Lady Margaret and the other workers to the task of clean-up. Still, several children scampered forward to grip Lord Linfield’s hand and swing on it. They giggled, lost in the feeling of excitement Lord Linfield offered them. Newness. A fresh perspective. A tall, broad-shouldered man—one that, perhaps, filled the “hole” their fathers had left, after they’d been killed
.
Which led to Lady Elizabeth’s next mission.
She had to make Lord Linfield understand.
And she had to do it as soon as possible.
“Are you ready?” she whispered, her voice cutting through the chaos to find Lord Linfield’s ears.
He nodded, although his eyes glittered with hesitation. It was clear he wanted to remain with the children. But he leaned down, giving as many individual goodbyes as he could. In the meantime, Bess knelt and dropped a kiss on Charlotte’s forehead. “I’ll see you soon, my darling,” she offered. She blinked once in an attempt to rid the image of Charlotte’s face crumpling at her absence. It was remarkably difficult, finding reasons to leave them. Bess had always felt that way.
Chapter 24
Nathaniel struggled to leave the homeless shelter. It seemed that every which way he turned, he found another child squeezing at his coat jacket, tugging at him. Their eyes were far too big for their hollowed out faces, and each seemed to have endless amounts of humanity and excitement and soul. He dropped his hand across many of their shoulders, giving them partial if not full hugs. “When will you come back, Lord Linfield?” another little girl asked, sounding more sure of his new position in her life than many members of Parliament felt about his potential seat.
“Very soon, darling,” he told her, and he was surprised to feel that he meant it—totally, completely. He hadn’t a clue where his life was going, yet he made up his mind, at that moment, to begin volunteering at that shelter, and perhaps others. He didn’t want to do it for the votes it would inevitably give him, nor did he wish to commit such time in order to spend more time with Lady Elizabeth (although, of course, that was an added benefit).
He wanted to do it for the humanity of it. He wanted to do it to hold people up. He realised, with a strange jolt in his stomach, that he’d spent the majority of his life lost in the woods—either metaphorically or physically. He’d been hunkered away from the world, trying to make sense of his own mind, rather than assisting those most in need.
It disgusted him that he hadn’t tried.
Finally, he followed Lady Elizabeth out onto the streets. Peter scampered up behind them, narrowly missing being pulled back into the chaos. From steps down the road, the three of them could hear the wild yelps of the children, all of them tittering about the arrival of their new guest and “friend.”
“My goodness, Lady Elizabeth,” Nathaniel said, after they’d marched a bit down the road. “I am simply speechless.”
Nathaniel couldn’t get a read on Lady Elizabeth’s response. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, parted her lips. Her eyes shimmered as if she was trying to keep back tears. He couldn’t imagine what the tears would be for.
Lord Linfield was grateful that Peter walked just behind them, muttering to himself, not paying attention to the wild attraction that sizzled out from Lord Linfield’s heart.
“I’m glad you showed me,” he continued, his voice lowering. “As you probably know, it can become very easy to just—fall away in whatever world you’ve created for yourself at your estate.”
“I know that all too well,” Lady Elizabeth offered. She tore her eyes back towards him. They almost burned with meaning. “You know I was part of Society. You know that I had all the money you could ever hope to have.”
Nathaniel balked for a moment, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He paused, turned his eyes to the ground. A carriage clunked along in front of them, causing them to pause. Nathaniel’s hand accidentally grazed Bess’s upper arm. She shifted away from him, although he sensed (perhaps incorrectly) that she craved his touch, just as much as he wanted to touch her.
How ridiculous it was that he actually had those thoughts buzzing around his head. They meant nothing. They couldn’t.
The carriage eased aside, giving them space to keep going. Nathaniel swallowed hard before taking a step into the cobblestones, which crumpled off into the mud around them.
“I remember Everett saying that he danced with you. I regret never seeing you at one of these affairs.” He paused for a moment. “I feel certain that I would have asked you to dance.”
Lady Elizabeth blushed. But immediately she seemed to shake the emotion off. “It’s impossible to know that for certain, Lord Linfield,” she said. “And I’ll ask you not to say something so foolish like that again.”
They continued to walk through the wretched neighbourhood. Nathaniel recognised the horrific smells, the swirling pits of mud, the angry-looking people as sights that Elizabeth surely saw each and every day. He couldn’t understand quite what had happened in the days since Lady Elizabeth had been a debutante. Clearly, her path had been far different than the other, tittering, anxious girls at his various Society balls.
Of course, he could never compare them. She was far and away better than any of them.
“Those children back there,” she began, her voice lowering. “And Peter. We all have something in common.”
“What’s that?” Nathaniel asked. His voice caught in his throat.
There was a heavy pause between them. Nathaniel could almost feel Lady Elizabeth actively collecting and organising her thoughts. “Well, they’ve all lost at least one or both parents, as have I,” she continued. “Although, with them, their parents were killed due to punishment for non-violent crimes. They committed acts that, in general, didn’t hurt anyone beyond their pocketbooks. And yet they were murdered.”
Lord Linfield now recognised where the course of the day was taking him. His throat felt raw.
“And thusly, their children are out on the streets, completely abandoned. And you know what? The state itself doesn’t care at all. They care only that they took action against thieves, not recognising that they’ve created a system in which those thieves will constantly be created, grow up, and then be murdered. Again and again and again. Those children back there, they haven’t known a day of love in years. That was the point of the shelter. To try to create that love, to lend as much of it as I could. But I know it can never replace the love they might have received from their parents. And I know that many of them are learning to steal and rob and thieve out on the streets, as they get older, because there isn’t another option. That’s simply what they do; it’s what their mentors do. It’s the only true option they have to survive. And do you know what will happen to them? When they’re inevitably caught and proven guilty of their crimes? Do you?”
Lord Linfield hunted for the proper answer. But how could he say the right thing when everything seemed to swirl with the worst kind of reality?
“They’ll be murdered. Those children, wrapping their arms around you and calling your name? They’ll be taken from this world. Perhaps it won’t happen in the next five years, or even in the next ten. But by that time, they might have had children of their own. And then …”
Lady Elizabeth had worked herself up. Tears streaked down her cheeks. Lord Linfield reached forth and dropped his finger against the softness of her cheek. He hardly noticed that he’d done it. In the back of his mind, he sensed it was inappropriate. But Lady Elizabeth’s eyes closed at his touch. Her lips parted slightly. Around them, the rest of London swirled. Even Peter clunked around the side of a building several feet away, amusing himself with the dogs that ran around the neighbourhood pubs.
After perhaps a half a minute, Lady Elizabeth found ground behind her and stepped away. Her eyes flashed. Neither of them mentioned the big wave of intimacy between them. Perhaps neither of them would ever admit the insane attraction that sizzled in their hearts.
“And what is it you have in common?” Lord Linfield asked. “Why do you hide yourself from Society? If you don’t mind me speaking out of turn, Lady Elizabeth, you have far more to offer the world than most of the debutantes I know, all added together. You have a brain and a passion. You have such life.”
Lady Elizabeth’s eyes met his for a long moment. Lord Linfield found it incredibly difficult to read her expression. How he longed to reach
behind her swimming eyes, to read her seemingly-constant string of thoughts. Everything she’d told him, thus far, made his heart ache. He hadn’t known about these children, living alone in the midst of London. He hadn’t given them a single thought. And with this, he hadn’t allowed himself to link the fact of his father’s death—and the fact that he so wanted to give complete and total judgement to the men involved—with the shivering, starving children at the centre of the city.
