Hidden Fire (The FIRE series Book 1)

by Rosemarie Cawkwell

  “Caro.” Lizzy advanced one morning, while she was being fitted for a new dress.

  “Umphf?” Caro mumbled through a mouthful of pins.

  “I have an idea.”

  Caro removed the pins to the pin cushion. “Oh?”

  “I think I'd like to invest some of the money uncle’s been looking after for me, in property. What do you think?”

  “Well, it could be a good move. What would you do? Buy the buildings and rent them to people?”

  “Yes, something like that. I don't know where to start though. I think I’d like to invest in business properties.”

  “There's that new parade of shops on Water Market, I'm sure I saw something in the paper about them.”

  “I'll have to look into that. If I bought some of the shops there would you like to rent one, at a nominal rent, of course?”

  “Lizzy I couldn't possibly afford my own premises at the moment.”

  “But you're doing so well, and if you didn't have to give half your earnings to Mrs Brasckett you'd be doing so much better. Besides, I can always cover the bills for a year or something until it gets off the ground.”

  “Lizzy.”

  “Yes.” Lizzy looked down sheepishly, she knew that tone of voice.

  “Is this business venture an elaborate ruse on your part to give me money?”

  “Not just money, your own business.” Lizzy blushed.

  “Why?”

  “Seemed appropriate, considering I have so much cash now and you need your independence.”

  “I wouldn't be though, would I? People in the trade would say I was only successful because you bought everything for me.”

  “But you have loads of customers!”

  “And in another three or four years I'll have enough saved to open a shop on my own.”

  “What if I gave you it as a loan?”

  “People would say I wasn't paying the right interest.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Reputation is important. And if enough people in the Guild decided I've got ahead unfairly I could be thrown out. Then I wouldn't be able to work.”

  “People aren't that petty, surely.”

  “Don't you believe it. There's only so much work to go ’round and the older Guild members hover over their rights like a hawk over a kill.”

  “Petty, petty, people. Well if you won't accept a business of your own, would you accept a position as my private seamstress?”

  “Maybe, what about my other clients?”

  “Oh, you could keep those if you wanted? I mean, as my employee if you should be asked to take freelance seamstress work it would be acceptable, if I don't have work I need you to do.”

  “Hmm, I could give Mrs Brasckett my notice tonight but she'll want her half of the fee for this dress.”

  “Tell her I rejected the dress today. She designed it, didn't she?” Lizzy started to strip out of the dress pieces before Caro could answer her.

  “Yes, mostly it's based on the latest Southern Belanosian patterns we've received.”

  “Interesting, that does explain the flounced skirt though. Do you have any ideas for my outfit?”

  “Of course. The Southern Belanosian patterns are far too ornamental but they are the latest thing.”

  “All over the Islands?”

  “Even in Sumoast.”

  “Well, I don't want anything that everyone else already has. What did you have in mind?”

  Lizzy went house buying the next morning and found a small, but clean and light, establishment not far from the Palace which her uncle bought in Lizzy's name. A week later Caro moved in and took up her position as Lizzy's seamstress. The house was rather perfect, Lizzy thought, when she viewed it the day after Caro took up residence.

  “More tea Lizzy?” Caro poured a cup from her (brand new) teapot as they sat in the front parlour. The windows were open to relieve the gathering summer heat. The city seamed far off, to Caro; the rumble of carts and the cries of traders were faint, and the buzzing of insects in the garden reminded her of the Marsh where both women had grown up.

  “Thank you.”

  “You look like you need it.”

  “The boys are running me ragged. They've decided that after I come of age I won't be able to play silly games, so they are getting in as much as they can before next Secondday.”

  Caro chuckled, looking away. She noticed a faint cobweb in a corner of the ceiling where the light bounced through the window and off a mirror. Caro stood and flicked at it with a rag.”

  “Didn't the maid clean the house before you moved in?”

  “Some of it, but I think she needs better training.”

  “But she's thirty if she's a day.”

  “No, she's a child, no older than we were when we came to King's Ford.”

  “Really? Ring the bell Caro, something's not right.”

  Caro clanged the bell hanging by her chair. Down the corridor a door opened, slammed shut. Feet hurried to the parlour door. There was a knock.

  “Come in.” Lizzy called.

  A girl, thin and sallow, sidled though the door. She curtsied awkwardly, unsure who she was curtsying to.

  “You're not Maggie Richards.”

  “No ma'am, that's my mistress.”

  “I pay your wages, not Mrs Richards.”

  “No ma'am, you rent me off of her.”

  “That is not the arrangement I made. What is your name?”

  “Sandra Fawks ma'am.” Sandra curtsied again.

  “And how long have you worked for Mrs Richards?”

  “Ten years, ma'am.”

  “So she's 'rented' you to other households?”

  “Yes ma'am.”

  “In what capacity?”

  “Maid servant, mostly.”

  “And how much does she pay you a week for your work here?”

  “Pay ma'am? She doesn’t pay me; I get my bed and board.”

  Lizzy drummed her fingers across the table.

  “Now Lizzy,” Caro warned, she knew the signs, “It happens all the time.”

  “It's slavery Caro.”

  “No ma'am, indentured servitude.”

  “That's another way of saying legal slavery. Sandra, how long do you have left on your indenture?”

  “Don't know ma'am, never seen the paper. My Mam signed it when I was little.”

  “It must be registered with someone?” Caro mused.

  “Yes Miss, Mrs Richards says it's with Twerps and Fosset, the notaries on the Little Market.”

  “And you've never been to check for yourself?”

  The girl shrugged. “Didn't seem worth the beating.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “One of the other girls got it into her head to go see the notaries, cos she wanted to get married but caunt cos of the indenture. When Missus Richards found out she beat her black and blue. Couldn't work for two weeks and the Missus went to Twerps and tol' 'em to add another two years to the indenture to make up for lost earnings.”

  “That's terrible.” Caro was aghast.

  Sandra shrugged, “Everyone does it.”

  “So? That doesn't make it right. Lizzy, we have to do something?”

  “I'll talk to uncle. But first, I think I should visit Mrs Richards.”

  “She'll be ever so mad at me if she thinks I've got her into trouble.”

  “Don't do anything rash, Lizzy.”

  “I won't.” Lizzy stood, “I shan't be long, though; we really need to get to work on my clothes.”

  The woman was half risen from her seat, startled by the banging of the front door as Lizzy entered the town house secreted in an older, less than respectable part of the city. It had once been an elegant area, about two centuries before.

  “Mistress Richards.” Lizzy took a seat in the parlour uninvited, her driver glowering by the door, “You have defrauded me. I demand the return of the wages I paid you.”

  That stung Mrs Richards into action. She stood, seeming to con
sider advancing on Lizzy with a scowl, until Dawson, armed with a small crossbow, moved away from the door. She noted his movement and looked away. Mrs Richards turned an ingratiating smile on Lizzy and diverted to the bell pull.

  “Tea?”

  “No thank you.”

  “Of course.” Mrs Richards returned to her seat by a side table, “How can I help you?”

  “You can return my money. I paid in good faith for an experienced, mature housekeeper for my property in Spring Hill, and I visited today to find a chit of a girl who should be in school clattering about the place. You have defrauded me; if you don't return my money I shall have to report the matter to the Watch.”

  “Ma'am, you must be mistaken, Sandra is a competent housekeeper, small for her age I'll admit, but reliable and hard working.”

  “But not what I paid for. Is the girl indentured to you?”

  “Why?” Mrs Richards asked suspiciously, then seemed to remember Lizzy's connections, “Of course, the papers are with my notaries, Twerps in Little Market. She's been with me a few months, poor girl comes from a family of brewers, but times have not been kind.”

  “Can I see her papers? If she is going to work in my house on a long-term basis, then I need to know when her indenture ends. I wouldn't want to be party to illegal contracts; it would be so embarrassing for father if I did.”

  “Well, of course you wouldn't want to upset the king; I'll have the papers sent to you as soon as possible.”

  “Don't you have a copy here?”

  “Not at all; I find that for safe keeping it is better to store such things with Twerps.”

  “But what of Sandra's copy?”

  “With her family.”

  “Indeed; come Dawson, let us visit the Little Market.” Lizzy stood as her driver opened the parlour door on to the street.

  “But Ma'am, they won't be expecting you!”

  “It doesn't matter, if they are a respectable firm then there is no reason why they shouldn't show me the contract. I am the one paying the girl's wages after all.”

  “But ma'am, how will they know you've come from me?”

  “Easily. I shall tell them.”

  “But, ma'am, please, wait. Don't trouble yourself, I shall have the documents sent to Spring Hill as soon as possible.” The woman clutched at Lizzy's sleeve.

  “I'm impatient Mrs Richards,” she removed the woman's claws, brushing the silk of her sleeve, “I have other things to do. Good day.”

  Dawson shut the door on the astounded woman, before climbing on to the carriage.

  “Do you know where we're going Dawson, I think we'll have to get there quickly.”

  “Aye, miss, it's not far to Twerps. That woman will have one of those poor kids scurrying there already.”

  “Well, we'd best be moving then.”

  The carriage pulled into the Little Market minutes later; Lizzy looked around. She'd never visited this part of the city before. The buildings were of plaster and lathe, the shop fronts were open to the air; a bench showing the available goods was formed from a part of the front wall, on hinges and lowered down. These wall/tables were held in place with leather brackets during the day and bolted up at night. The streets were crowded, but Lizzy noted she was the only one in a carriage. The air creaked with wagon axles and the shouts of purveyors. Lizzy heard hooting above her; on the second or third storey of every other building, above the shops all around the square, women hung out of windows showing off their own wares.

  “Whores, miss, ignore them. This is it.”

  Dawson pulled up outside Twerps. The notary office was the only shop with glass windows, small and green tinted. Lizzy climbed out of the carriage, looking for the door. It was also green tinted, the paint peeling and the wood warped along the bottom. Above the door hung a metal sign, once painted gold but now tarnished and rusting.

  “Want me to come with you?”

  “No, stay here and watch the carriage.”

  “Yes miss. If you need me just shout.”

  “I will. See if you can collect up a few Watchmen while you're waiting; I have a feeling we may need them.”

  “Yes miss. You do remember what his grace said about you starting fights don't you?”

  “Of course Dawson.” Lizzy smiled then wrenched the swollen door open with a shove.

  Inside, Lizzy found that despite the general air of neglect outside, the notaries kept their desks tidy. The floor looked like it had been swept recently and only one or two cobwebs hung from the corners. Two men, in black suits worn to a shine, and loud ties sat at desks that faced each other, surrounded by filing cabinets. They seemed startled to see the eccentrically dressed lady whose carriage had pulled up outside and about whom they had been speculating until the moment she shoved open their door.

  “My Lady, how can we help you?” Both men stood at once and hurried to take her hand, to lead her to the client’s chair.

  Lizzy put on her best austere aristo voice and looked around, her eyebrow arched and nostrils flaring. She flicked to two men away from her and took the more comfortable looking chair that one of the notaries had just vacated. On the desk was a letter, just opened. She recognised the writing and smiled slightly; it was going to be so easy.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Lady Fitzroy, it's a great honour for you to visit us. How can we be of service?”

  “Mr?”

  “Twerp, my lady, and this is my cousin, Mr Fosset.”

  “And have you been in business for many years?”

  “Twenty my lady.” Mr Twerp fiddled with his tie, “How can we be of service?”

  “I understand you specialise in indenture contracts; I have a girl in my service.”

  “And you wish to indenture her?”

  “I wish to see her current indenture. She is contracted to Mrs Richards, of Dorathea Street, I believe. Mrs Richards has defrauded me, I paid for a mature, experienced housekeeper and found she had sent a child who barely knows how to sweep the floor.”

  “Ah, yes, my lady, that does seem rather unfortunate. I'm afraid we can't show you the contract though, client confidentiality is important in our trade.”

  “You are materially assisting Mrs Richards in fraud. I will be forced to take the matter to my uncle, the Duke.”

  “But ma'am, we weren't aware of her intention to defraud you.”

  “Really? Then why do you have a note from the woman on your desk.” Lizzy picked up the letter and read it out. “‘Lady Fitz going to visit, hide S. Fawks papers'. How obviously incriminating.” Lizzy folded the letter and placed it in her bag. “Gentlemen, show me the contract or I will have you in the Gaol before you can breathe.”

  “My lady, really, this is hardly fair!”

  “Neither is forcing young children into unending indentured servitude. You know the law; anyone under sixteen cannot enter a contract, yet I have evidence that Mrs Richards is doing just that. If you have knowingly been party to her illegal activities, then you can expect a hefty sentence.”

  “We never saw the indentured servants.” Mr Fosset spoke quickly, his face pale.

  “No, never, my lady, I assure you, we took Mrs Richards at her word that the girls were all sixteen.” Mr Twerps pulled at his tie, sweating.

  “Don't you have a copy of their birth certificates?”

  “Most of these girls don't have them. Their parents are too lazy to go and register their births. Really ma'am these people can't expect much out of life and an indenture gives them security.” Twerps seemed more confident in this answer, as though he'd rehearsed it a thousand times to clients.

  “Be that as it may, I wish to see the contract.”

  There was a knock at the door. The notaries looked away from Lizzy as a couple of Watchmen pushed open the door.

  “Ma'am, your coachman alerted us. You have evidence of a crime?”

  “Ah, Sergeant, what a pleasure to see you again; I hadn't realised Lord Summerton had posted you to the Little Market thi
s week?”

  “And next; we've got a lot of people on their summer holiday week just now.”

  “How lucky for me; yes, to answer your question, I have evidence of a crime. About a week ago I made a contract with one Maggie Richards of Dorathea Street, for her to provide housekeeping services in my property at Springhill Street. I specifically understood that she would be the housekeeper. I visited the property today to find a fourteen-year-old indentured servant acting as housekeeper. I ascertained that the child had been in Richards' service for eight years, having been sold to Mrs Richards by her parents. I have visited Mrs Richards to ascertain the truth and was told that the girl was legal but small for her age. When pressed, she admitted that the contract was in the possession of these notaries. I believe these men are aiding and abetting illegal indenturing of underage servants, and extending their indentures indefinitely. I also have testimony of abuse.”

  “Well, that's a serious charge my lady; we should call in our Commander. I'll have men sent to Dorathea Street. Mrs Richards is known to us, with so many girls living in her house there have been accusations of prostitution without a license.”

  “I quite understand; be so kind as to arrest these men, and ask my uncle to send his Investigators.”

  “Of course my lady; you've done a grand job of tracking down the evidence I'm surprised you need the Investigators. I don't suppose you'd like to join the Watch would you? We could do with intelligent people about the place.”

  “Ah, as much as I would love to pound the streets of our fair city with you, my dear Sergeant, I'm afraid my father is quite set against my taking a profession.”

  “Shame.” The sergeant sighed at her smile and turned away, “You two,” He called two more Watchmen lurking at the door. “Got the wagon with you?”

  “Yes Sergeant, waiting outside.”

  “We're taking these two to the Gaol. Pop by Dorathea Street and collect that baggage Maggie Richards on the way. And Corporal,”

  “Yes Sergeant?”