The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

“Is something wrong?” Mrs. C. studied him.

  “Of course not. Julia deserves to be happy.” Mentally switching gears, he leaned forward. “Mrs. C., is there anything I can do to repay you for all your kindness? Any work you need done around the house?”

  “Not at the moment.” Her eyes narrowed. “But there is one thing you could do.”

  “Name it.” Quinn itched to have something physical to do to keep busy. To keep his mind from dwelling on circumstances he couldn’t control.

  “Reverend Burke and I have an appointment with Mr. Hobday at Dr. Barnardo’s today. We want to talk to him about the harsh conditions some of the children are living in and demand he send more inspectors to check on them.” She paused, one brow raised. “We could use your testimony added to ours.”

  Instant tension seized Quinn. The thought of facing Mr. Hobday again was not something he looked forward to. Especially since Quinn had not only interfered with Harry’s position, he’d removed Harry from the farm altogether. Would Mr. Hobday be aware of this? Or would Mr. Wolfe have been too ashamed to report the boy’s absence?

  However, despite dreading the encounter, the thought of other boys—or worse yet, young girls—receiving such horrendous treatment at the hands of their employers made Quinn’s stomach clench. He owed it to Harry to report the incident to someone who could perhaps make a difference.

  Besides, Quinn owed a huge debt to Mrs. Chamberlain for helping both Julia and Harry in their time of trouble. It was the least he could do for her. “I suppose, if you think it will help . . .”

  “I’m sure it will.”

  “Then I’d be happy to come with you.” He held back a sigh. It’s not as if he had anything else on his schedule for today. Like seeing Julia.

  “Wonderful. Reverend Burke will be here in twenty minutes.”

  Quinn dredged up a smile. “Long enough for me to say a quick hello to Harry.”

  Half an hour later, in the back seat of Rev. Burke’s Model T, Quinn gripped the doorframe with white-knuckled intensity. How did a pastor afford his own automobile, anyway? And where had he learned to drive like a madman?

  When the automobile bounced over a rut in the road, Quinn barely kept from banging his head on the roof. He breathed a sigh of relief when the man pulled up to the curb and set the brake.

  Rev. Burke hurried around to help Mrs. Chamberlain out of the passenger seat, then waited while Quinn unfolded his frame from the cramped rear seat and climbed onto the sidewalk.

  Mrs. C. smoothed out her skirt. “Let’s hope Geoffrey’s collar will add a certain credibility to our visit. That, along with your witnessing Harry’s abuse firsthand, should be enough to convince the man to take action.”

  “We can only hope and pray, my dear.” Rev. Burke patted Mrs. C.’s arm as he led her up to the front door.

  “Good day,” Rev. Burke said to the receptionist. “We have an appointment with Mr. Hobday. Reverend Burke and Mrs. Chamberlain.”

  The woman eyed Quinn. From her scowl, Quinn determined that she remembered him and his persistence. “Is this man with you?” she asked.

  “Oh yes, forgive me,” Mrs. C. said. “This is Mr. Quinten Aspinall.”

  “We’ve met,” she said tersely.

  “Hello, Mrs. Allen.” Quinn doffed his hat. “Lovely to see you again.” He doubted his tight smile fooled the woman.

  She rose from her chair. “Please follow me.”

  Once again, Quinn followed her to the director’s office, this time joined by his two companions.

  Mr. Hobday looked up from his desk and removed his spectacles. When he spotted Quinn, he frowned. “To what do I owe this honor?” His expression said it was anything but an honor.

  Rev. Burke stepped forward. “Good day, sir. We have an important matter to discuss with you.”

  Mr. Hobday glanced warily at each of them, then nodded. “Please have a seat.”

  Mrs. C. took a chair, her purse perched on her lap. “Mr. Hobday, as superintendent of this home, we want to talk to you about the children and some of the situations they are living in.”

  Rev. Burke cleared his throat. “First, let us begin by saying that we appreciate the tremendous job you are doing and how difficult it must be to bear the burden of such a responsibility.”

  “Thank you.” Mr. Hobday lifted his chin. “I’m glad you understand the daunting task I face each and every day.”

  “Indeed. However, we do have a concern about the conditions some of the children may be experiencing.” The minister turned to look at Quinn. “Conditions Mr. Aspinall’s brother, Harry, found out the hard way.”

  Mr. Hobday’s features tightened as he focused on Quinn. “It appears you were successful in locating your siblings. Or one of them at least. I received a letter this morning from Mr. Wolfe stating that Harrison has left his post and is in breach of his contract.”

  Heat blasted through Quinn, and he scowled. The utter nerve of the man to complain. “If anyone is in breach of a contract, it’s Mr. Wolfe. Unless physical violence is condoned by your organization.” He glared at the superintendent.

  A shuttered look came over the man’s face. “At times, the farmers find it necessary to use punishment to temper undesired behavior. If you recall, I did warn you about the potential consequences of your search.”

  Quinn curled his hands into fists, fighting his rising temper. How could this man be so glib about the type of violence Harry had endured? “You said the farmer would be annoyed. Not that Harry would be beaten within an inch of his life.”

  The color drained from Mr. Hobday’s face, his lips pressed into a grim line.

  Rev. Burke leaned forward. “We’re not blaming you, Mr. Hobday, but we hoped that by bringing the matter to your attention, we could find a way to rectify the situation and ensure the other boys in your care are safe.”

  Mr. Hobday looked at Quinn. “I’m sorry about your brother. Believe me, in no way do I condone that type of treatment.” He paused. “How is Harry doing?”

  “He’s improving slowly, after a stay in the hospital.”

  “Hospit . . .” The man swallowed.

  Quinn shook his head. “That’s not the worst of it. Harry was half-starved to begin with, living on a bed of straw in the barn.”

  Mr. Hobday closed his eyes, his hands folded on the desktop. On a loud exhale, he opened his eyes. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said again. “That is not how we want our boys to live. We brought them to Canada for a chance at a better life, not for mistreatment.”

  “Then, what are you prepared to do to ensure this isn’t happening to others under your care?” Mrs. Chamberlain asked. Her chin jutted out, her features hardened.

  Quinn had never seen her this way. Unforgiving, confrontational. Harry’s problems had no doubt brought back all the pain of her own childhood, as well as her sister’s tragic fate.

  Mr. Hobday’s expression remained sympathetic. “Unfortunately, there’s not a lot I can do other than lobby for more funds to hire additional inspectors. The few we have are hard-pressed to get in their yearly inspections.”

  “And clearly those visits are useless.” Mrs. C. bristled. “Do they even interview the children themselves to ask how they’re being treated?”

  “They do, however, the boys rarely say much. Only a few ever speak of harsh conditions, and when they do, the inspectors give the farmers recommendations.”

  “Does anyone follow up on these recommendations to ensure they’re being implemented?”

  Mr. Hobday shook his head. “Not until the next scheduled inspection.”

  “Then you need more frequent visits to the farms.” Mrs. C. fairly quivered with indignation.

  “Again, Mrs. Chamberlain, it’s a matter of funding. Unless you have an idea as to how to accomplish this on our limited budget . . .”

  “What if I told you we did?” Rev. Burke said evenly.

  The man’s brows rose. “Go on.”

  “I believe I could get a team of volunteers toge
ther who would be willing to help with these inspections. Some clergy, some laypeople.”

  Mr. Hobday shook his head. “That wouldn’t work, I’m afraid. We couldn’t have a bunch of random people with no authority invading the farmers’ domains.”

  “I see your point. But what about clergy? Surely there could be no objection to a minister paying the boys a visit? There would be authority in the position, and the children might feel more comfortable talking to a pastor rather than a man in a business suit.”

  Mr. Hobday stroked his chin. “That might be acceptable. But how would we find these clergymen and organize their visits? I do not have the time nor the manpower to do that myself.”

  “I understand.” Rev. Burke nodded. “And I am willing to take this on. I’m sure Mrs. Chamberlain, as well as some of my other parishioners, would be happy to volunteer their time to organize such an undertaking. Perhaps once we have a list of willing participants, we could meet with your administrator here and work together to set up a schedule.”

  Mr. Hobday studied them. “It’s definitely worth a try. And if it won’t cost us any more, I can’t see why anyone would object.” The director rose. “Let me propose it to the other board members while you begin contacting the clergy. We’ll be in touch and go from there.”

  Rev. Burke rose as well, stretching out his hand to the director. “That sounds like a good place to start. Thank you for listening to our concerns.”

  Mr. Hobday shook the minister’s hand. “And thank you for the information. I assure you I’ll do my best to rectify the situation. We are committed to keeping Dr. Barnardo’s dream alive and maintaining the level of quality he always insisted upon.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Chamberlain’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Tell me, sir, did you ever meet Thomas Barnardo?”

  The man frowned. “No, unfortunately he passed away before I had the privilege. Why do you ask?”

  “Because many years ago, I was one of his orphans. I lived in one of his homes in London, and yes, the man had good intentions. But once the children left his residence, he often had no idea what was happening on the other side of the ocean. I only wish I’d had the courage to do something about it a lot sooner.” She inclined her head. “Good day to you, sir. Be assured you will hear from us again.”

  The man blinked, seemingly unsure how to respond to her heated words.

  Quinn started to follow them out, but the director stepped forward.

  “Mr. Aspinall. A moment, if you will.”

  Quinn stiffened. “Yes?”

  “May I ask what you intend to do now?”

  Quinn regarded him coolly. “If you’re asking whether I am going to press charges against the man who beat my brother, I’d like nothing better than to see the cretin behind bars. However, I have no real evidence other than Harry’s testimony, and I’ll not put him through the horror of reliving the experience again.”

  “I understand.” Mr. Hobday stroked his chin. “What I meant is, what do you intend to do about Harry? He is still bound by his contract. When he is recovered, he will have to return for a new placement.”

  Quinn’s chest muscles tightened, and he fought to contain the anger that crept into his voice. “Harry may never get over the trauma of his assault, and I certainly won’t subject him to the possibility of it occurring again. I intend to take my brother home.” He pinned the man with a hard stare. “Now I must ask what you intend to do in light of my plans for Harry?” He held the man’s gaze, his challenge unmistakable. If Mr. Hobday desired, he could create a lot of trouble for the Aspinalls.

  The man paused for a moment, then walked back to the desk. He pulled a sheet of paper from the blotter and went over to toss it in the fireplace. “I believe Mr. Wolfe’s correspondence must have gotten lost in transit. By the time another letter reaches our office, I won’t have any idea how to find Harry.” He gave Quinn a pointed look.

  “Good.” Quinn put on his cap and nodded. “Just make sure you never send another boy out to that man’s farm again.”

  Mr. Hobday’s features turned grim. “On that you have my word, sir.”

  “Thank you. I trust you’ll do your best to ensure no other boys suffer a similar fate. Good day.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “There’s a man at the door for Miss Holloway.” The housekeeper stood in the dining room doorway, her face twisted in a grimace as though the mere thought of Julia speaking to a man was an unpardonable sin.

  Julia set aside her bowl of oatmeal, her heart thumping. With the issue of her uncle’s farm ever-present on her mind, she had sent word via Mrs. Chamberlain that she wished to speak with Quinn. Though she hated confrontation, this was not a subject she could avoid. She needed to settle the matter once and for all.

  Mrs. Middleton lowered her cup. “Did the man give a name?”

  “A Mr. Aspinall, ma’am.” The housekeeper shot Julia a sour look.

  “He’s a friend of mine from back home,” she said, rising from the table. “Do you mind if we use the parlor for a few minutes, Mrs. Middleton?”

  “Not at all. But I’d like to meet this young man if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.”

  Julia moved past the housekeeper into the hall, smoothing any stray hairs as she walked. Her pulse rioted through her, and she had to force herself to walk sedately.

  It had been over a week since she’d last seen Quinn. A week since she’d learned of his duplicitous reasons for wanting her to go back to England. And she still hadn’t sorted through all her feelings about the issue. Part of her held out hope that Harry had misunderstood what Quinn had told him. Until then, she would give him the benefit of the doubt and hear his side of the story.

  She paused before entering the foyer and took a calming breath. Then she lifted her chin and moved forward.

  Quinn stood inside the front door.

  “Hello, Quinn,” she said.

  His whole face lit with a smile. “Julia. It’s good to see you. You look beautiful, as always.”

  “Thank you.” Her cheeks heated, though the compliment didn’t sway her as it once would have. “Can you come in for a minute?”

  “Of course, as long as it won’t interfere with your duties.”

  “I believe I can spare her for a few minutes.” Mrs. Middleton hobbled forward on her cane.

  “Mrs. Middleton,” Julia said. “This is Quinten Aspinall.”

  “Lovely to meet you.” Quinn gave a bow. “Thank you for giving Julia this position. Knowing she has somewhere decent to live is a great relief.”

  The elderly woman gave him an appraising look. “I was happy to do so since Julia’s presence here allows me to continue living in my home. Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I’ll be in my study, catching up on some correspondence.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Quinn bowed once more.

  The sound of the cane echoed through the hall as she walked slowly away.

  “Please, come in.” Insides churning, Julia led Quinn into the parlor, searching for some sort of normal conversation before broaching the difficult topic that weighed on her heart. “How is Harry doing? I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get over and see him.”

  She took a seat on the sofa, somewhat surprised when Quinn sat down beside her. She shifted slightly away so she could see him better.

  “He’s much improved,” he said, “and dying to see you. I couldn’t tell him I was coming here today or he would have insisted on tagging along. I didn’t know if your employer would appreciate that.” He gave a warm chuckle.

  “She wouldn’t have minded, I’m sure.”

  Quinn laid his cap on his knee. “This position must agree with you. You’re positively glowing.”

  Julia fought the instinct to cover her abdomen. Wasn’t that a term applied to pregnant women? Though she’d let out the seams in her skirts, she didn’t think she could be showing already. She managed a stiff smile. “So far, I’m quite content here. Mrs. Middleton has been very kind.” It
was true. Other than the hostile housekeeper, who apparently disliked anyone hailing from England, Julia had not one complaint.

  “I’m glad.” Yet there was a hint of wistfulness in his voice. “Before I forget, a letter came for you today at the boardinghouse. Mrs. Chamberlain asked me to deliver it to you.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket and handed it to her.

  Scanning the penmanship, she frowned, then stuffed it in her pocket. “Thank you. I’ll read it later.” She fought to put all distractions aside except for the issue she needed to discuss. “You’re probably wondering why I asked to see you.”

  “I am, but before we get into that, I must tell you my news.” A smile creased his cheeks. “Becky has agreed to come back to England with us. Only for a visit, but it will have to do. For now, anyway.”

  “That’s wonderful.” And it was. Despite everything, Julia still wished the best for Quinn’s family.

  “Now all I need is for Cecil to agree. I’m going to see him again before we leave. Which is another reason I was glad you asked me here.” He hesitated, rubbing his palms on his pant legs nervously. “I wanted you to know that if Harry continues to improve, I plan to leave for England at the end of the month.”

  “I see.” She should be relieved to know he would soon be gone, but she couldn’t shake the wave of sadness that engulfed her. “That leads me to the matter I asked you here to discuss.”

  Quinn frowned. “From your expression, it must be something unpleasant.”

  “That will depend on you.” She squared her shoulders. “Harry told me that when you return to England, you and your family will be living on a farm.” She pinned him with a pointed stare. “A farm my uncle is apparently going to give you in return for bringing me home.”

  The color drained from Quinn’s face, but he didn’t flinch or look away.

  “Is this true? Or did Harry misconstrue what you said?” She held herself very still, awaiting his response.

  Please let him have misunderstood.

  Quinn closed his eyes briefly, then let out a slow breath. “It’s true. Although it’s a moot point now.”