A Dangerous Pursuit (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 1)
Page 2
Mrs. Foster smiled tenderly. “You are a strong child, much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Madalene lowered her gaze to her lap and admitted, “I don’t feel very strong.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I miss my mother dreadfully.” Madalene blinked back her tears, knowing it was not the time to display such emotions.
“There is no shame in that,” Mrs. Foster reassured her. “It has only been six months since your mother passed away. You must give yourself time to properly grieve.”
“Will the pain ever cease?” Madalene asked, bringing her gaze back up to meet her companion’s.
A look of anguish came into Mrs. Foster’s eyes. “The pain will never go away, but it will fade with time. At least, that is how it is for me with my dear George.”
“I am sorry for bringing it up.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Foster said. “I enjoy speaking about George. In my opinion, it helps keep his memory alive.”
Before Madalene could respond, the coach came to a jerky stop in front of a large two-level brick building. A sign hanging above the door read Elizabeth Dowding School for Orphan Girls.
The coach dipped to the side as the footman left his perch and came to put the step down. After it was extended, he opened the door and reached into the coach to assist them onto the pavement.
“Would you care for me to announce you, Miss Dowding?” the footman asked as he released her hand.
“That won’t be necessary, but I thank you kindly.”
The footman tipped his head before he took a step back.
Madalene stood in front of the building and admired it. The red bricks may have started to fade, but new windows had been installed, and the main door had received a fresh coat of paint.
Mrs. Foster came to stand next to her. “Your mother would be proud of you and your accomplishments,” she said.
“Do you suppose so?” Madalene asked as she offered her companion a side glance.
“I do,” Mrs. Foster replied. “What you have done here is no small feat.”
“I just wanted to find a way to honor my mother’s legacy.”
“And I believe you have succeeded,” Mrs. Foster responded, glancing over at her.
“I hope so.”
The door to the orphanage opened and the plump housekeeper, Mrs. Kipper, appeared in the doorway. “Please come in,” she encouraged, ushering them inside. “You don’t need to stand on the pavement and risk getting pickpocketed.” She glanced up and down the street with a disapproving look on her face. “There are street urchins all about who are always up to no good.”
Madalene stepped into the building and stopped in the small, tastefully decorated entry hall.
“The headmistress has been expecting a visit from you,” Mrs. Kipper said once she’d closed the door behind them. “If you would please follow me, I will show you to her study.”
As they followed the housekeeper down a narrow hallway, Madalene could hear their booted steps echo off the tile floor. “Is it always this quiet in the orphanage?”
Mrs. Kipper laughed as she responded over her shoulder, “Heavens, no. It can get quite boisterous with twenty girls afoot. But the girls are currently receiving their lessons.”
Mrs. Foster spoke up. “What lessons are they receiving?”
“We teach the girls skills they need to find employment after they leave the orphanage, such as needlework,” Mrs. Kipper explained. “Furthermore, we educate them and train them in household business, thus enhancing their opportunities for obtaining a job.”
“What a blessing that is for them,” Mrs. Foster acknowledged.
“I agree,” Mrs. Kipper said as she stopped at a closed door and knocked before she proceeded to open it.
Madalene stepped into the square-shaped room as the blonde haired, petite headmistress rose from her desk to greet them. She was wearing a pomona gown with a high neckline, and her hair was pulled back into a tight chignon at the base of her neck.
“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Hardy, but Miss Dowding and Mrs. Foster have come to visit,” the housekeeper announced, clasping her hands together.
Miss Hardy smiled. “It is good to see you again, Madalene,” she said in a warm and inviting tone. “How have you been?”
“I have been well, Edith,” Madalene replied.
Edith pointed towards two upholstered chairs that faced the desk. “Would you care to have a seat?”
Madalene stepped around the chair and sat down. “How have you been faring?” she asked as she eyed the large stack of paper on the desk.
“I have been quite busy, if you must know,” Edith shared, returning to her seat. “I never thought running an orphanage would require so much paperwork.”
“Would you like me to hire someone to help you with that?” Madalene asked.
Edith waved her hand dismissively. “That won’t be necessary. I find that I enjoy the mundane task, assuming the girls leave me alone long enough to accomplish it.”
“Do you not have enough staff to properly tend to the girls?” Madalene questioned.
“Heavens, that’s not what I meant,” Edith declared. “We have more than enough, but I prefer to spend as much time with the girls as possible.”
“I am sure they appreciate that,” Mrs. Foster commented.
A twinkle came to Edith’s eyes. “They are wonderful, and they just want to be loved, especially the little ones.”
“What are their ages?” Mrs. Foster asked.
“The girls range from four to fourteen,” Edith shared. “They are mostly bright and inquisitive children and have already endured so much at such a young age.” She paused, growing solemn. “Some of these girls were found on the streets in the rookeries, and some came from other orphanages where they were not treated as kindly as they should have been. Many of them were half-starved and their hair was so tangled that it had to be cut prior to being cleaned.”
Mrs. Foster gasped. “How terrible.”
“Sadly, we have only seen the physical scars on the girls, but many hold emotional scars, as well,” Edith continued. “I must admit that I was ill-prepared to be headmistress of this orphanage.”
“I disagree,” Madalene said. “I believe you are more than qualified.”
“How so?” Edith challenged.
Madalene grinned. “You are by far the most clever woman that I know, and you have bested me at shuttlecock every time we have played.”
Edith laughed, as Madalene hoped she would. “I am unsure how that makes me qualified to run an orphanage.”
“I could have hired any number of women to run the orphanage, but I wanted someone that would love the girls,” Madalene said. “That is what my mother would have wanted.”
“Well, I would rather be a headmistress than work as a governess somewhere in the country,” Edith remarked with a slight shudder.
“You would be a terrible governess,” Madalene joked. “You have always preferred being in charge.”
“That is true,” Edith agreed. “Furthermore, with the generous salary that you have allotted me, I will be able to move my mother and sister out of their rented room at Floyd’s Coffeehouse.”
Madalene moved to sit on the edge of her chair. “If you would allow me to give you the funds, they could move out today and into somewhere respectable.”
“My father was the one who got us into this mess,” Edith said with a shake of her head. “I will be the one that will get us out of it.”
“That isn’t necessary—” Madalene started.
Edith spoke over her. “This is not your problem to solve, Madalene,” she remarked firmly. “You have done more than enough for me and my family already.”
Madalene pressed her lips together. “You are being quite stubborn.”
“No more than you are,” Edith contended, softening her words with a smug smile.
“Fine,” Madalene said. “But if you change your mind, I am more than willing to help.”
“That is wonderful news,” Madalene declared.
“I thought you might enjoy hearing that,” Edith said. “Her name is Miss Rebecca Gaillard, and she came highly recommended from your solicitor, Mr. Walker.”
Edith glanced over at the long clock in the corner. “Most of the younger girls are practicing their plain needlework at the moment,” she remarked. “They are being instructed on how to make and mend their own linen. Would you care to observe?”
Madalene rose from her chair. “I would love to.”
“Just as I suspected,” Edith replied, rising. “The older girls are washing, ironing, and folding the linens. In the afternoon, all the girls will begin their academic lessons.”
“What does that entail?” Madalene asked.
Edith came around her desk as she explained, “We want all the girls to be able to read the Bible, write in a legible hand, and understand the basic rules of arithmetic.”
“That is no small feat for some of these girls,” Mrs. Foster remarked.
Edith stopped at the open door and gestured that they should go first. “You would be correct, but I have great confidence in this group. By the time they are fifteen, they should be able to find employment as a servant in a grand estate or work in the front of a shop.”
“Will we be able to help them secure employment?” Madalene asked, stepping into the hall.
“That is my hope,” Edith replied as she turned to walk down the hall. “I want to ensure that each one of these girls is placed in a safe environment.”
“You have accomplished a great deal,” Madalene commented as she followed Edith, “especially considering the orphanage has only been open for four months.”
Edith smiled over her shoulder. “It is amazing how much someone can accomplish when the funds are forthcoming. We also hope to raise funds for the orphanage by taking in all kinds of plain needlework.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Madalene insisted.
“I know, but I think it would be beneficial if the girls helped support the orphanage with their work,” Edith explained.
“That is a brilliant idea,” Madalene proclaimed.
“You sound surprised,” Edith joked as she stopped in front of a closed door. She knocked, and a muffled voice granted permission for her to enter.
Edith opened the door and stood to the side to allow Madalene and Mrs. Foster entry first. As Madalene stepped into the room, she saw a tall, thin woman with brown hair sitting at a desk in the corner of the room. She had a narrow face, deep-set eyes, a sharp nose, and thin lips.
The woman rose and looked at them expectantly.
Edith came to stand next to them as she provided introductions. “Miss Dowding and Mrs. Foster, please allow me the privilege of introducing you to our French teacher, Miss Gaillard.”
Miss Gaillard dropped into a curtsy. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Dowding,” she said, “and thank you for this opportunity.”
Madalene tipped her head. “I am pleased that you are with us, Miss Gaillard.”
“Will you be observing my class today?” Miss Gaillard asked.
“With your permission, I believe I shall,” Madalene replied.
Miss Gaillard nodded vehemently. “Of course. It would be my privilege.”
“Her class doesn’t start for another hour,” Edith interjected. “We have plenty of time to continue our tour of the orphanage.”
“How delightful,” Madalene murmured.
Chapter Two
Baldwin Radcliff, the Marquess of Hawthorne, walked down the foggy streets of a disreputable section of Town. The sun had set, and lamps had been lit on the street corners. He was well aware of the men that were lurking in the alleyways, waiting for the opportunity to rob him of his coins. But he had little to fear. He had two pistols on his person, one concealed behind his blue jacket, and the other in his right boot. A small knife was in his left boot, as well.
He wasn’t one to go in search of a fight, but he had no qualms with finishing one. He almost welcomed the chance to engage in fisticuffs. It had been far too long since he had boxed with his younger brother.
A lanky man dressed in threadbare clothing stepped out from the shadows of the alley and pointed a pistol at him.
“Give me yer money,” he demanded.
Baldwin stopped in front of him and shook his head in disapproval. “May I ask what you are attempting to do?”
The man stared back at him in disbelief. “I am trying to rob ye of yer coins.”
“With that stance?” Baldwin asked, pointing at the man’s feet. “If you aren’t careful, you could easily be relieved of your pistol.”
The thug huffed. “I think not.”
In a swift motion, Baldwin grabbed the man’s wrist, ensuring the pistol was pointing away from him, and wrenched it out of the thug’s hand. Then, he pointed the pistol back at the man. The thug put his hands up, and Baldwin could see a trace of fear in the man’s eyes.
“As I was saying,” Baldwin continued, keeping the pistol aimed at the man, “you have to keep your feet balanced.” He gave the man a knowing look. “Have you never robbed anyone before?”
The thug lowered his hands and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This is the first time I have even tried.”
“If that is the case, then why start now?”
The man shrugged his thin shoulders. “Ye appeared to be an easy target.”
“Ah,” Baldwin said, lowering the pistol. “I would suggest you give up your life of thievery before it even begins.”
“I have tried, but I can’t find a job, though. I’ve been looking since I came back from the war,” the man explained. “My kids and wife haven’t eaten in two days.”
“What about you?”
The thug lowered his gaze. “It has been longer for me.”
“That is most unfortunate,” Baldwin said, extending the pistol back to the man. He reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out three gold coins. “Here is three pounds. It should be enough to feed your family for weeks.”
“Thank ye, Mister,” the man said as he clutched the money in his hands. “I don’t know what to say.”
“If you are looking for honest work, then go to the Marquess of Hawthorne’s townhouse on Grosvenor Street.” Baldwin paused. “Are you familiar with Hawthorne House?”
“I have only heard tales about its grandeur.”
“Very good,” Baldwin replied. “Go around to the servants’ entrance and they will be expecting you.”
“How can ye be so sure they will even agree to see me?” the thug asked. “It will cost me nearly two shillings to travel there.”
“You do not need to concern yourself with that,” Baldwin remarked in a firm tone. “When you arrive at Hawthorne House, your travel expense will be reimbursed, as well.”
The man gave him a humbled look. “Thank ye,” he said in a sincere tone. “I don’t know what I did to deserve yer kindness, but I am grateful for it.”
In a stern voice, Baldwin warned, “If I hear that you have resorted to thievery, you will be dismissed. Understood?”
Straightening to his full height, the man replied, “Yes, sir.”
“Good, because I expect my employees to be trustworthy.”
The man’s eyes widened as his voice resonated with awe. “Ye are the Marquess of Hawthorne?”
“I am,” he replied, seeing no reason to deny it.
“Do ye not know how dangerous Drake Street is at night?”
Baldwin smirked. “I am well aware, but I have business I must attend to.”
“Would ye like me to escort ye out of here?” the man asked.
“That won’t be necessary,” Baldwin replied, “but I thank you for your offer. Besides, I intend to meet up with
some of my associates soon.”
The man bowed slightly. “Thank ye, milord. It will be a pleasure to work for ye.”
Baldwin tipped his head as he resumed walking down the street. It wasn’t long before he approached a dilapidated brick building and heard the sound of a bird call coming from further down the street. He stopped and repeated the sound.
A long moment later, a husky man with a pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers stepped out from the shadows.
“Are you lost, Mister?” the man asked as he placed his hand on the butt of his pistol.
Baldwin shook his head. “I am not, but the king requested to see me.”
“The king?” the man asked, his eyes narrowing. “What makes you think the king wants to see you?”
“Because I have something he needs to hear.” Baldwin hoped that the code had not changed since he had been gone.
“What did you say your name was?” the man asked, removing his pistol from his trousers.
“I am known as Falcon.”
“Falcon?” the man repeated, surprise in his voice.
“Yes.”
“I heard you were dead.”
Baldwin raised his hands wide. “As you can see, I am very much alive.”
“Come with me,” the man ordered, pointing the pistol at him. “I have someone who will be very interested in meeting you.”
“Finally, we are getting somewhere,” Baldwin remarked in an amused tone.
The man gestured with his pistol towards a plain brown door that was in desperate need of painting. “You go first.”
Baldwin approached the door and opened it, revealing a dark, narrow passageway.
“Walk,” the man commanded.
As Baldwin walked down the dark passageway, he saw a lone candle burning on a table. A stern-faced man was seated next to it, a pistol in his hand. “What do we have here?” he asked.
The man spoke up from behind him. “This man claims he is Falcon.”
“I heard Falcon died.”
“Me, too.”
Baldwin began to open his mouth to respond but stopped when a door behind the man opened, the light illuminating the passageway.
A familiar voice came from within. “Falcon!” The dark-haired man stepped into the passageway, his eyes perusing the length of him. “It is about time you finally showed up. I expected you days ago.”