What Happens in Piccadilly Read online

  “I’ll be ruined, afterward. Rendered unmarriageable and unemployable.”

  “But still alive,” Effie pointed. “Death is an irreversible state. The rest, we can manage.”

  Well, there was no denying the logic of that statement. “You’re quite right. Priorities!”

  “Not to mention that the fortune you may inherit will be more than ample inducement for most gentlemen to overlook any questions of virtue,” Effie added pragmatically.

  Since the maids were helping in the dining room with Effie’s absence, the two of them carried Callie’s bags down to the foyer. Effie’s words regarding her fortune and her reputation were still ringing in Callie’s ears.

  Winn was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs and took both cases. “The carriage is here,” he said. “It arrived only moments ago.”

  “Are the children inside?” Callie asked.

  “No. They are in the dining room with the other students enjoying a hearty breakfast. Mrs. Wheaton was kind enough to extend the hospitality to them and to Mrs. Marler who is with them,” he answered.

  “Oh… do they know what’s happening? They aren’t frightened are they?” Callie asked. She couldn’t bear it if they were afraid. That was the last thing she wanted, to bring more fear and uncertainty into their lives when they had already been through so much.

  “They do not. They think we are retreating to the countryside because of a problem at the estate and a desire to get them out of the city with its terrible air,” Winn replied. “In short, I lied.”

  “But for a very good reason,” Callie said. “Do you think the villains will follow?”

  “I think they will send minions to do their bidding,” Winn stated. “But it will take some time to figure out where we’ve gone. And in that time, I’ll be preparing for every eventuality. I will keep you safe. I swear it.”

  If anyone could make such a promise and keep it, it would be him, she thought. He was a man of honor, who lived and breathed it. “Thank you.”

  No more was said as Mrs. Wheaton entered then carrying a hamper of food. “Some cold meats, bread and cheese. There are some apples in there, as well. The children will enjoy them on the journey, I think.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Wheaton,” Effie said. “That was very thoughtful of you. I’m sure everyone will be very grateful for the nourishment later.”

  Callie remained quiet, still uncertain whether or not it was a good idea for them to all be together. If something happened to one of the children because of her, she’d never be able to forgive herself.

  “It will be fine,” Winn said. “It will be. Have faith, Miss St. James.”

  Faith was in short supply for her. Unable to say anything else, she simply nodded and offered a weak excuse of a smile. “Goodbye, Effie.”

  “Only for a time,’ Effie replied. “Have hope, my dear.”

  *

  She seemed utterly defeated. Whether it was the fright she’d had or the resulting exhaustion from it, it appeared as if the experience had simply deflated her. Winn watched her cautiously as they exited the Darrow School to the waiting carriage. He scanned the street for any potential dangers as they were leaving and, seeing none, assisted her inside. To the coachman, he said, “To the St. James Workhouse.”

  Other than a raised eyebrow, the coachman showed no qualms about the order. He gave a jerky nod. “Aye, m’lord.”

  Inside the carriage, Callie was seated next to him with Claudia beside them. Mrs. Marler sat on the opposite seat with William and Charlotte. He felt Callie’s gaze on him and turned to meet her questioning stare. It was clear from her expression that she’d heard his instructions to the driver. So he whispered his explanation as softly as possible. “We’re going to the workhouse first to ask if anyone there might have any information about the day you were found. I realize the chances are slim, but we cannot afford to squander any opportunity.”

  “I don’t want the children to see that place,” Callie said.

  “But I want to see it!” Charlotte protested, clearly having heard every word they’d said. “It’s from the story you told us!”

  “That was a very prettied up version of events, Charlotte,” Callie explained. “There’s nothing about the workhouse in real life that you would enjoy.”

  “It will be good for them to see it,” Winn stated. “They need to understand that there are people living in this country significantly less fortunate than they are. Perhaps by not shielding them from such things, they may be inspired as they grow to attempt to alter them. But perhaps not today… we have a long journey ahead of us and do not have time for an adequate tour.” The last part of his statement was directed at Charlotte and at William.

  Callie shook her head. “Very well. You all will wait in the carriage with Mrs. Marler and we shall find another time for you to visit the workhouse and develop, what I hope, will be a sense of charity.”

  Winn watched her, the way she met the children’s gazes, the way she touched their shoulders or their hair when she was speaking to them so that they could easily know her statement was directed at them without her needing to shout. It had been less than a week and yet the changes she’d wrought in them already were beyond measure. As were the changes she’d wrought in him, he thought.

  He was thankful when the carriage halted, when they reached the workhouse. Inside the close confines of the carriage with her, he could smell her perfume, he could see the various shades of her hair as the sun streamed through the window and lit the varying hues. It was too much. In less than a week, she had infiltrated every crevice of what he’d thought was a reasonably hardened heart.

  Heart. Winn sat up straighter in his seat. Was he in love with her? Surely not. Surely he had not fallen so quickly! But then he looked at her once more. Was it so very unreasonable? She was beautiful, kind, generous with her time and with her obviously very tender heart. Three children who had been little better than hellions were transforming right before his eyes with her gentle guidance. How could he not love a woman such as her?

  “Is something wrong?”

  Her gentle prompt made him realize that the carriage had halted entirely and he was just sitting there. “Just collecting my thoughts,” he lied. “Children wait here with Mrs. Marler… also, please don’t do anything to make her wish to leave us.”

  “But we want to go!” Charlotte said.

  Winn looked at her sternly. “I know you do, poppet. And another time, I will take you so that you may see it and so that you may offer some sweets or some other gifts to the children there. But today, we must hurry, so you will wait here. All right?”

  She popped her thumb into her mouth, but nodded. “You pwomise?”

  “I better than promise,” he said. “I swear it on my honor.”

  Charlotte nodded and settled back onto the seat once more. She clutched her doll and leaned against her brother who tolerated the contact reasonably well. It would likely not last in such a manner though the whole of the journey, but at least for the moment, they were not at one another’s throats.

  Winn hopped down from the carriage and then reached in to help Miss St. James disembark. His hands closed over the narrow span of her waist. When her feet touched the pavement, he didn’t release her immediately. Instead, he stood there for just a moment, looking into her eyes. “We will get this sorted out,” he said. “One way or another.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with worry. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

  “Then this promise is one I’ll make to you right now, Calliope St. James. I will do whatever it takes to see you safe.” And to make you mine. The latter part he didn’t dare utter. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to hear such things and she was far too vulnerable to be bombarded with such. It was also a vow to himself as much as it was to her. For a man who’d lived his life not believing in love at all and thinking marriage was fine for other people, he’d certainly done an abrupt about-face on the subject. “Now, let’s get inside.”


  They walked toward the heavy wooden gate set with iron bars and manned by two guards. It looked more like a prison than a place for the poor, he thought. Beside him, he felt her tense, felt the heavy weight of her past settling over her. Uncaring of who might see or what anyone might think, he reached for her hand. Taking it in his, he held it, feeling the coldness of her skin even through her gloves. He also noted the slight tremor.

  “I swore I’d never return here,” she said.

  “This will be the last time,” he vowed.

  The small door in the gate opened and a man’s face appeared behind the iron bars there. “What you want?”

  “We need to speak to the superintendent of this place,” Winn stated.

  “Oh, well, he ain’t got time for that!”

  “I am the Earl of Montgomery, sir, and he will make time,” Winn replied, his tone brooking no argument. “And you will keep a civil tongue in your head or be seeking a new situation before the clock strikes noon.”

  The man, apparently chastened, closed the small door and the gate groaned as it opened. Stepping inside, into the yard, Winn was struck with how very crowded it was. People were everywhere. Young children, women, all of them stooped over needlework.

  “You get paid per the piece but only if it’s good quality,” Calliope explained. “And working outside, even in the cold, you get better light to make sure your stitches are even. But if you’re not careful, someone will steal your completed work.”

  He allowed his gaze to follow where she pointed, to a woman who was reaching down into a basket at another woman’s feet and pilfering her work. “Should we not warn her?”

  “The last thing you do in a place like this is draw attention to yourself, my lord,” Calliope answered. “The two of them will sort it out in the dormitories later when there are no guards about. If they fight in the yard here, they’ll be out on the street.”

  “This way, m’lord,” the sour-faced man from the gate said, and led them toward the imposing brick building. They didn’t enter through the main doors, but were led to a staircase off to one side that carried them up to the second level. The guard knocked. “A gentleman to see you, sir. The Earl of Montgomery!”

  Several locks and bolts could be heard disengaging inside and then the door opened to reveal a slight man with a tuft of white hair and spectacles perched on the end of his nose. Beside him, Winn felt Callie draw back as if she’d been struck. Clearly, she recognized him.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  “We have some questions regarding a child left in your care,” Winn stated.

  “I’m afraid I have nothing to say on the matt—”

  Callie lifted her chin. “You do have something to say on the matter. I was the child in question and I will not be put off. Now, you may invite us into your office to speak or we stand here in the open where all your inmates can get a good look at you.”

  The man’s face paled. Immediately, he stepped back. It was more out of shock than invitation, but Winn was willing to take any advantage they could get. Pushing into the office, past the stick figure of a man, he kept his hand tight on Callie’s and drew her inside, as well.

  After blustering for a moment, the man quickly closed the door and began setting all the locks and bolts. “It pays to be cautious,” he said by way of explanation. “After what the peasants did in France, well… I’m cautious of rioting.”

  “Perhaps if you offered more than a thimbleful of gruel and a sliver of moldy bread, their full bellies would do what all the locks in England will not,” Callie stated coolly.

  The man stiffened, his spine going poker straight. “We provide as we are able, Miss.”

  “St. James,” she said softly. “How sad it is the only name I have is the one granted me by this abominable place.”

  “What is it that you want?” he asked, moving toward his desk.

  Winn noted there was a tray on his desk, laden with meat and cheese, bread, a pot of tea. There was more food on it than most of the poor souls in that yard had seen in a week. It was little wonder he kept his door locked and barred. “This woman was left at the workhouse as an infant and given into the care of a vicar—”

  “Vicar Albertson. He placed me with a foster family, Chambers,” Callie filled in. “And when they died, the vicar returned me here.”

  “Yes, Miss St. James,” the superintendent said. “I’m aware of who you are.”

  “Good,” Winn said. “We need to know everything about the day she came here.”

  “Well, certainly she can tell you all of that,” the man said dismissively.

  “Not when she was returned here… when she was left here the first time as a babe,” Winn stated. He was fairly certain the man knew precisely what they had meant. He was simply stalling and that meant he knew something of import.

  “I couldn’t possibly remember so long ago.”

  Winn walked over to the door and carefully flipped back one bolt. “For every minute you delay answering, I will unlock one more. And when the last one is freed, I will personally hold this door open while every person in that yard is invited to come up here and help themselves to what remains of your meal. I imagine that when those poor souls see how you are dining versus what is served to them—”

  “We found her in a basket outside the gate,” the man said in a rush, the words tumbling one over another. “Don’t unlock that door! Please! I beg of you!”

  “What else?” Winn demanded, his hand hovering over the next lock. The little man had no hope of overpowering him. It was a fact everyone in that room was aware of.

  “There was a note in the basket. We were asked to take the child to the Lampton Theater at Drury Lane and give her into the care of a woman named Eliza. That is all. I swear to you! That is all.”

  “But you didn’t do that, did you?” Callie asked.

  “The vicar said a couple would take the child on! It was his sister and her husband! He said it would be a better life for a child than some loose woman who trod the boards,” the superintendent said, all but wailing.

  “My father was alive then. That loose woman at the theater would have taken me to my father,” Callie whispered. “My life might have been entirely different but for selfish, judgmental hypocrites such as you and the good vicar!”

  The superintendent found some courage then and shouted back at her, “He’d have tossed you out in the street like every other bastard and you’d have been back here… assuming you lived long enough!”

  Winn was away from the door in an instant, lifting the odious little man by his waistcoat and slamming him against the wall. “You’ll mind how you speak to her or you’ll not have a tongue to speak with at all! Is that understood?”

  The man nodded, sobbing in fear by this point. Winn dropped him and he sank to the floor, still sniveling. Winn looked at the man’s dinner once more and, with one swipe of his hand, sent the tray flying. Crockery and cutlery clattered about him and the majority of it wound up on his clothes. “I should force you to eat every bite until you choke on it.”

  “He isn’t worth having it on your conscience,” Callie said. “Let’s just leave this place. Let’s leave it and leave him to live and die with his many sins.”

  Looking back at her, Winn noted that there was a steeliness about her he had not seen since she’d stood toe to toe with him, yelling at him in his library. It was good to see the color back in her cheeks, but nothing could disguise how exhausted she was. Taking her arm, he strode toward the door. After undoing every single lock, they stepped out onto the small landing at the top of the rickety stairs. As they were making their way to the bottom, Winn asked a question that he dreaded the answer to. “What did he do to you?”

  “He was as fond of the cane as Monsieur Dumont,” she answered evenly. “But I think his enjoyment of the punishment might have been more licentious in nature.”

  “Did he—”

  “No,” she said, the word emphatic and sharp. “He did
not. For him, beating little children was all that he required for his pleasure. And the guards were more interested in girls who were slightly older than I was, those just in the first bloom of womanhood, as it were. I was still very much a skinny, sickly child. I suppose I can be grateful that the near starvation I endured left me wholly unattractive to every man here.”

  Euphemia Darrow deserved to be recognized as a saint, he thought. “Let’s leave this place. You’ll never return here… but I will. And if it’s the last thing I do, I will see that man removed from power. I will see this place being run fairly, with proper food and shelter for those who reside here.”

  She frowned at him. “Why would you do that?”

  Winn reached out and cupped her face gently. He didn’t kiss her. Not in that hellish place, but he said, “For reasons you are not yet ready to hear.”

  “I don’t want to leave London,” she said.

  “It’s too dangerous to stay. I can’t protect you and the children unless we are all under one roof.”

  “Then we shall be. I shall simply move into your home on Piccadilly and we’ll deal with the consequences of that when we must. All the answers are here. In London. We can’t stop this problem by running from it—from them.”

  Winn met her steady gaze. This wasn’t the hollow-eyed and terrorized girl he’d seen that morning. Somehow, bringing her back to the horrors of her childhood had helped her rediscover just how remarkably strong she was. “If that’s what you want, then we’ll stay here. I’ll send a note round to Effie and to Highcliff. We’ll convene at the house tonight and discuss our course of action.”

  Calliope looked around at the women and children laboring over needlework in the yard. “How terrified my mother must have been to depend on a place such as this for aid.”

  Winn ushered her down the stairs and they left the St. James Workhouse behind. But even as they exited the gate, he recognized one indisputable fact. They might leave it, but it would never leave her. For better or worse, the place had marked her to her soul.

  Chapter Eighteen