Once Dishonored

by Mary Jo Putney

  They stopped in front of a door. Squeals and giggles sounded on the other side. “Prepare yourself,” Laurel said with a grin. “Can you tell stories? That’s always popular.”

  “I told stories to my son,” Kendra said cautiously. “I’m willing to try.”

  Laurel opened the door to reveal a sunny room with a dozen or so children ranging from toddlers up to about age five. The walls were painted a cheerful yellow, and shelves at the left end held toys and dolls. A large oval rag rug covered the center of the room, and small chairs and tables were clustered at the right end of the room.

  A rather harried girl of fifteen or sixteen was watching over the youngsters. She looked up with relief when Laurel and Kendra entered. “I’m glad to see you, ma’am!”

  “You go down to the kitchen and get a cup of tea, Emma,” Laurel said. “Miss Kendra and I will be here for a while.”

  As the girl gratefully escaped, Laurel said to the children, “Good day! Would you like to hear a story?”

  “Oh, yes!” They squealed and gathered around Laurel, clutching her skirts and demanding attention. Laurel laughed and greeted them by name. As the group settled down, Laurel said, “Say hello to Miss Kendra. She’s the one who will be telling you a story today.”

  “Hello, Miss Kendra!” exclaimed the children in a ragged treble chorus as they examined the new visitor.

  They were as adorable as a box full of puppies. Kendra wanted to hug them all. “Would you like to hear the story of Dick Whittington’s cat?” she asked. She had told that one to Christopher so well that she knew it by heart.

  A chorus of approval sounded. Laurel indicated a low chair in the center of the rag rug. “A good choice. I look forward to hearing it, too.”

  Knowing her ability to deal with small children was being evaluated, Kendra settled on the chair in a flurry of skirts and started in the traditional way. “Once upon a time . . .” The children folded onto the floor around her, entranced.

  Kendra acted out the parts, including the sounds of Bow Bells summoning Dick to stay in London because some day he would become Lord Mayor. She thought her meow for the cat was quite fine—it made the children laugh.

  As Kendra recounted the old tale, she studied her audience. Some were too thin. A couple had fading bruises. Many wore clothing that was clean but patched and worn.

  One little redheaded girl hung shyly at the edge of the circle. Not breaking the rhythm of the story, Kendra extended an arm and beckoned her closer. When the girl approached, Kendra put an arm around her thin shoulders and drew the child to her side. The little redhead gave a small sigh and relaxed against her.

  When Dick Whittington and his cat had triumphed, Kendra started another story about a princess who would rather ride her pony than dress up in princess clothes. There was some autobiography in that one!

  Laurel watched from her place by the doorway, approval on her face. As Kendra finished the princess story, young Emma returned, looking fortified by her tea.

  Laurel said, “It’s time for your naps, my little friends. Say thank you to Miss Kendra!”

  There was a chorus of thank yous and a number of hugs around Kendra’s lower legs. Then the children pulled ragged but clean blankets from a box by the toys and curled up on the floor under Emma’s watchful eye.

  Kendra was smiling as Laurel guided her from the room. “You’ve a talent for working with the young ones,” Laurel said. “I hope you have lots more stories!”

  Kendra laughed. “I’ve always been good at making them up. Besides, in my experience, small children usually like hearing favorite stories over and over.”

  “Dick Whittington’s cat is destined to become a favorite,” Laurel said with a smile as she headed to the stairs that led to the building’s middle floor. “Now it’s time for the rest of the tour. After we go by the classrooms, we’ll visit the kitchens and dining room on the ground floor. All meals are prepared there and aspiring cooks are trained.”

  The more she saw, the more impressed Kendra was. “You’ve really created something very special and valuable here. Have you thought of establishing other Zion Houses in other cities?”

  “Actually, the first one was in Bristol, where I grew up. I set up Zion House in conjunction with my brother’s free infirmary when I saw abused women who desperately needed sanctuary. It’s still thriving.” Laurel smiled impishly. “Once I was able to start plundering my husband’s deep pockets, additional Zion Houses were established. With more on the way!”

  The woman was a living saint, Kendra decided. And would surely deny the idea if Kendra said so out loud. “I’m honored to be part of this.”

  “I know you’ll contribute a great deal, and it works both ways. You’ll find great satisfaction and wonderful friends here.” Laurel’s tone became more businesslike when they reached the bottom of the stairs, then turned and stopped in front of a door with an elegant silhouette of a fashionable woman on the door.

  “All the adult classrooms are on this floor,” she explained. “Most women know basic sewing, but here we teach tailoring and professional-quality dressmaking.”

  Laurel opened the door a few inches. Inside, a woman standing on a platform was having a morning gown fitted to her under the supervision of a very grand older woman. Voice low, Laurel said, “We’re fortunate that some of the best modistes in London volunteer their time here.” Her voice turned musing. “Women who have gone through hard times are the backbone of all the Zion Houses.”

  Kendra was one such woman, so that made perfect sense to her. This was a place where women who had been broken could be rebuilt. “What other skills are taught here?”

  “It depends on who joins our community. A milliner whose husband destroyed her business and stole all her money took refuge here, and she taught very popular millinery classes. Now she has her own shop again in another town far from her horrible husband, but one of her best students teaches millinery classes in her place.

  “We also have classes for women who want to become housekeepers since that’s a secure, well-respected position. Some residents take housekeeping along with lady’s maid classes so they can present themselves as multitalented servants who can be employed in smaller households.”

  Kendra asked, “How do the women trained here do after they leave?”

  “Generally they do very well. We’ve established relationships with several agencies that supply servants.”

  “There’s no end to the wonderful work you do!” Kendra exclaimed.

  “If someone comes up with what seems like a good idea, we give it a try if it’s possible.” Laurel stopped at a door marked with the image of a fashionable woman’s head and shoulders and opened it partway. “This is the lady’s maid classroom.”

  Kendra peered in and saw a slim blond woman demonstrating how to style hair. It was past time for Kendra to hire a lady’s maid herself. Perhaps Laurel could suggest a suitable woman who had trained here. This woman’s deft hands looked very capable.

  The woman teaching the class turned so Kendra could see her face. She was slender, blond, pretty, and in her early twenties. Kendra gasped in shocked recognition.

  Jerking away from the door, she pressed her back against the corridor wall, shaking. She’d just seen a woman she’d thought was dead.

  CHAPTER 29

  Swiftly Laurel closed the classroom door. “Kendra, what’s wrong?”

  Kendra closed her eyes and tried to stop shaking. “The woman teaching the class. She’s my maid, Molly Miller. She disappeared from Denshire House the night my husband drugged me and created the false scene that painted me as a disgraceful slut.”

  Kendra’s mind was swamped with the nightmarish memory of an increasingly frantic Molly trying to shake her awake, but Kendra couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. As she sank into blackness, she’d known that she was dying.. . .

  Kendra opened her eyes and drew a deep, steadying breath. “More recently, one of your husband’s agents briefly joined the Denshire house
hold and reported that Molly had run away in panic that night, but even though she wasn’t murdered then, I feared that a young woman alone in London with no money or friends might be dead by now.”

  “She obviously found her way here,” Laurel said in a soothing voice. “She calls herself Polly Miller.”

  “That makes sense because Molly and Polly are both nicknames for Mary, which is her real name,” Kendra said as she felt her shock fade. “She must have been afraid of being found.”

  Laurel’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “She was certainly terrified when she arrived. She had nothing but the rather ragged clothes on her back. She barely spoke at first and she wouldn’t set foot outside except in the walled garden. In the beginning, she worked in the kitchen, but after several weeks, she said that she’d been a lady’s maid who fled when her mistress’s husband threatened her. When I learned that, I asked if she’d teach in the lady’s maid course. She’s a good teacher. She’s settled down here and seems content.”

  “I’m so glad to know that,” Kendra said. “But I need to talk to her.”

  “Of course.” Laurel cocked her head at the sound of church bells in the distance. “This class is almost over. Do you want to go in now, or wait till she comes out?”

  “I’ll wait.” Kendra used the time to calm her nerves. She’d tried not to spend too much time worrying about Molly’s likely fate since nothing could be done to help the situation. Now she felt an enormous relief, and intense curiosity. She needed to hear Molly’s account of events because the girl might make a good witness at the Duchesses’ Ball.

  The classroom door opened and students from young to middle-aged streamed from the room, chattering happily about the lesson and speculating on what was for dinner. When the stream ended, Kendra entered the room, with Laurel behind her.

  Her former maid was collecting the materials she’d used for the class. Voice under control, Kendra said, “Molly?”

  Molly looked up and gasped with shock, dropping the hairbrush she’d been holding. “Your ladyship!” She backed away, looking on the verge of tears. “I’m so sorry!”

  “For what?” Kendra asked. “I’m delighted to find you well! When you vanished from Denshire House, I feared you were dead.”

  Molly sank into a chair and began crying. “I abandoned you to those horrible men! You were unconscious and I couldn’t wake you. I found Lord Denshire and told him that you were very ill and a physician must be called. He gave a nasty laugh and said it was none of my business and not to say anything or I’d regret it.

  “Then he called over Brody, his big brute of a footman, and ordered that I be locked up in the cellar.” Molly swallowed convulsively. “He . . . he said that Brody could have me later. Brody was dragging me to the cellar by my wrist. We were on the steps when I managed to yank free, then give him a shove that knocked him the rest of the way down the stairs. I bolted from the house without stopping for anything.”

  “Good for you!” Kendra rested a soothing hand on Molly’s shoulder. “If I’d had the chance, I would have pushed that brute down the stairs myself!”

  “But I abandoned you to be assaulted when you’d always been so good to me!” Her tears intensified. “Later I heard what happened. They said that three of Denshire’s friends swore you’d bedded them that night, and that Denshire divorced you because of what you did. But you were unconscious! You didn’t choose to let those men lie with you. And I did nothing to help you!”

  “Molly, look at me.” Kendra raised the girl’s chin and looked into her tear-washed blue eyes. “What could you have done? You’d just come to London with me and didn’t know anyone. Would pounding on a neighbor’s door have brought help or more trouble? You did the only thing you could. You saved yourself.” She gave a twisted smile. “I’ve been feeling dreadful because I believed I was the cause of your death. I’m so relieved that you’re here and well!”

  “But I abandoned you there to be ravished!”

  “Actually, I wasn’t ravished,” Kendra said. “Denshire drugged me so I couldn’t interfere with his wicked scheme. He got his friends drunk, then sent a courtesan he’d hired who looked like me to seduce them. When they swore in court that they’d bedded me, they believed they were telling the truth.”

  Molly blinked through her tears. “That’s . . . very strange.”

  “Denshire is a very strange man. Much stranger now than when I married him,” Kendra agreed. “How did you come to Zion House?”

  “With no money or friends, I was afraid I’d have to turn to the streets to survive.” She shuddered. “After two days sleeping in the corner of a cemetery while I looked for work, I went into the church to pray for help. I was weeping in the lady chapel when a woman who had been arranging flowers came to ask me what was wrong. When I told her, she said that I should go to Zion House and told me how to get here. So . . . I did.” She wiped her eyes with her wrist. “The people here have been everything that is kind.”

  “We try our best,” Laurel said quietly.

  The classroom door opened and Lucas entered. “Kendra?” He halted when he saw the three women clustered together. “Is something wrong?”

  Kendra straightened. “Something’s very right, actually. I’ve found Molly Miller, my maid. She made her way here after escaping Denshire House, and she’s now teaching classes on how to become a lady’s maid.”

  After a startled moment, Lucas crossed the room with a warm smile for Molly. “What wonderful news! Kendra has worried about you.”

  Molly was watching him warily, so Kendra made a quick introduction. “Molly, this is Lord Foxton, an old friend of mine. He’s been extremely helpful. We’re trying to find a way to clear my reputation.”

  “You could be very helpful in that, Miss Miller,” Lucas said as he took a seat, not too close since he’d seen Molly’s nervousness. “We’re assembling witnesses to prove that Denshire falsely accused your mistress of adultery in order to divorce her.”

  “Tell him what happened to you that night, Molly,” Kendra asked.

  The maid repeated her story as before in halting words. When she was done, Lucas said gravely, “Your evidence could be very useful. Will you describe the truth of what happened when we challenge Denshire about his vile lies?”

  Molly shrank back. “A court is no place for people like me!”

  “This wouldn’t be a law court,” Kendra said. “We’ve arranged a social event where we’ll confront Denshire with people who will give the lie to his account of what happened. Your story would prove that I was drugged that night.”

  Lucas added in a steely voice, “You will be protected. You have my word on that.”

  Molly’s uncertain gaze moved from Lucas to Kendra. Kendra said nothing, but she held Molly’s gaze. If the girl felt that she had failed her mistress, here was her chance to make up for it, but Kendra would not pressure her.

  Molly gave a jerky nod. “If it will bring you justice and I will be safe, then yes, I will bear witness.”

  “Thank you,” Kendra said quietly. She rose to her feet. “Laurel, I hope you want me to come back regularly. More stories on Thursday morning?”

  “You’ll be most welcome,” Laurel said as she also stood. “I’ll show you the rest of Zion House then. Today has been most eventful for you, and for you also, Molly.”

  Molly gave a crooked smile. “Yes, but I feel better now.”

  “As do I.” Kendra squeezed Molly’s hand briefly, then left the room with Lucas.

  “Storytelling?” Lucas asked as they headed down to the ground floor, then outside to the nearby livery stable where he’d left his horse and carriage.

  “Yes, I may have found my niche,” she said with a chuckle. “I told the story of Dick Whittington and his cat and enjoyed it as much as the children did.”

  “Stories are important because they bring a sense of wonder,” Lucas said. “Even more so for children who have had a hard time of it.”

  “Yes, that’s it exactly! In the versi
on of the story I know, Dick Whittington started as a poor orphan, and ended as a rich, successful man.”

  “And the cat was treated with great respect and immortalized,” Lucas said solemnly, but with his eyes twinkling.

  “A good outcome for all. I’m going to prefer telling the stories with happy endings. The real world has enough grief,” she said thoughtfully.

  He nodded and ended the conversation since they’d reached the livery stable and he needed to retrieve his carriage. When they were inside and heading back to Mayfair, Kendra asked, “Could you take me to Duval House? I want to tell Suzanne what happened.”

  “Of course. Molly is a valuable witness.” He gave Kendra a wry smile. “The Duchesses’ Ball is going to be very interesting.”

  An understatement. But despite all their good witnesses, Kendra couldn’t help wondering if any of them would matter when Denshire had already won his divorce. Would she always be the loser?

  CHAPTER 30

  The next day was Wednesday, so Kendra donned her fencing costume to go to Angelo’s to cross swords with other Fencing Females. She was collected by Lucas and Simon. She knew they enjoyed sparring together, but guessed that Simon made a point of going on the same days as Lucas to ensure that his almost-brother had a partner.

  She was greeted warmly by the other female fencers. She’d never felt such a sense of camaraderie with another group of women. All of them were strong, kind, tolerant, and had a bit of an odd kick in their gallop. Kendra had found her tribe.

  Cassie Wyndham was present and challenged her to a first bout that left them both laughing and gasping for air. “You’re improving really quickly!” Cassie said. “You could have had a serious career causing mayhem.”

  “No, thank you. If I’m getting better, it’s because I have such talented opponents,” Kendra said as she pushed sweat-dampened hair from her forehead.