one he had just left. There were no fancy wrought-iron railings here. No brass number plates affixed to freshly painted doors. Just grey stone houses that fronted on to narrow streets populated by people whose priority it was simply to get by.
He drew the carriage to a halt in front of one such house and glanced at the boy of sixteen leaning negligently against the wall. ‘Mr Tanner,’ he called, ‘be so good as to make sure no harm comes to my property.’ He tossed a shiny silver coin in the boy’s direction. ‘You may have this for your trouble.’
The lad snatched it out of the air. ‘I’ll pay it good mind, Mr Devlin.’
Alistair jumped down and headed for the front door. He was glad now that he had not brought Victoria here. Though he had toyed with the idea of showing her what he was involved with, it was clear to him now that her opinion of him was already formed. If she wished to think him a hell-born babe, so be it. It was no concern of his.
As expected, Mrs Hutchins was waiting for him. A compassionate woman of middling years, she had a round face and rosy cheeks, a generous figure and the energy of six. She still wore a plain-gold wedding band, even though she had been a widow these last five years, and the room into which she welcomed him was bright and cheerful—a reflection of the woman and all she brought to the job. ‘Morning, Mr Devlin. If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll put on some fresh tea. I wasn’t sure what time to expect you.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Hutchins, but that won’t be necessary. You have more than enough to do. How fare the twins this morning?’
The housekeeper’s smile faded. ‘Not as well as I’d hoped, sir. I had the doctor in as you instructed, but I don’t know that he holds out much hope. It’s their lungs, sir, and they’re not going to get better.’
No, Alistair reflected grimly, they weren’t. Too many years spent working in the mills for that. Barely eleven, the girls had gone in at six years of age and had toiled alongside their parents and their older brother until the mill had burned down and taken both parents and brother with it. After the funeral, they had been brought to London by a well-meaning uncle, only to be turned out by an aunt who wanted nothing to do with them. They had ended up on the streets until their ill health had brought them to the attention of the people Alistair paid to make sure such things were noticed.
Sadly, for girls like Margaret and Molly, there was only so much money and care could do.
‘What about Teddy?’ Alistair said, hoping for better news.
‘I don’t think he’s in as much pain, but he’s a brave little soul and doesn’t say much,’ Mrs Hutchins said. ‘The doctor left some salve for his burns.’
Alistair nodded. Teddy Erskine was a climbing boy. Not the worst he’d seen, but bad enough. The lad had been skin and bones when he’d come to Mrs Hutchins, with a fear of almost everyone he met. Not only had he been forced up narrow chimneys alive with rats, he had been beaten by a cruel master. A sorry state for a boy of eight, Alistair thought grimly.
He stood up, tempted to pace, but the confines of the office gave him precious little room to do so. ‘How many are left?’
‘Ten,’ Mrs Hutchins said. ‘I sent twelve away with Mr Scott, as you instructed.’
‘And you made sure families were kept together.’
‘I did, sir. I hope you don’t mind, but I sent young Edward White along with the Dawkins pair. I thought it would be easier for the three of them to stay together, being as they came in that way.’
Her concern moved Alistair to a smile. ‘You know the children better than anyone, Mrs Hutchins. I have every confidence you would have done what was best for them.’ His smile faded. ‘How’s Jenny?’
The matron’s face clouded over with concern. ‘I do worry about her, sir. She hasn’t said a word since she arrived and she still cries every night. I try to spend as much time with her as I can, but I don’t know how much good it’s doing.’
‘If nothing else, it’s making her feel safe,’ Alistair said. ‘A trauma like that doesn’t clear up overnight. Have they caught the man who did it?’
‘Aye.’ Alistair saw despair darken the woman’s eyes. ‘Her father turned himself in two days ago.’
‘Dear God! Her father?’
‘He’d been drinking hard, like he did most nights. But apparently, this night he was much worse. One of the fellows saw him stagger out of the tavern. When he got home, he took it out on his wife. Jenny’s mother probably told her to run, fearing he’d go after her next.’
It was a harsh story, but one Alistair had heard many times over. Poverty brought out the worst in some men. Men who were decent when they were sober, but whose personalities changed under the influence of drink. The best thing that could have happened to Jenny was to escape such an environment, even though it might be years before she realised the extent of her good fortune.
‘As soon as the new house is habitable, we’ll move them all over,’ Alistair said. ‘Hopefully the fresh air and sunshine will help.’
‘Fresh air will help Molly and Margaret’s spirits,’ Mrs Hutchins said, ‘but it won’t do much for their lungs. And Jenny’s recovery is going to take time. But at least it will be better than being here. For all this being a safe haven, we’re bursting at the seams. Do you have any idea when we’ll be moving, sir?’
‘The arrangements to purchase are finalised and I expect renovations to get underway soon, but there is still much that needs to be done,’ Alistair said. ‘I’ll let you know more as we proceed.’
‘Am I to tell the children anything?’
Alistair thought about that for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Best not to just yet. While I’d like them to have something to look forward to, every day stretches long when you’re waiting for something good to happen, and you’re the one they’ll keep coming to with questions.’
‘Aye, but I’ll never tire of telling them their lives are going to get better.’ She managed a smile. ‘You’re a good man, Mr Devlin. I’ve met none better!’
Alistair smiled as he walked up the narrow staircase to visit the children. Now that the house in the country had been purchased, he couldn’t wait to get the ten remaining orphans out of this building and into their new home. Children needed room to run and fields in which to play. As a boy, he’d craved such things. And though he had grown up in a mansion and Teddy Erskine a hovel, their basic needs were no different. The circumstances of Teddy’s birth had simply denied him that right.
Fortunately, the circumstances of Alistair’s would make sure Teddy and the others benefited from it.
As for Victoria Bretton, she could believe what she liked. He knew he was nothing like Collins or Shufton or Bentley-Hyde. He wasn’t concerned solely with his own pleasures and he didn’t spend his time getting drunk in the hells or whoring his nights away in high-priced brothels. He had the wherewithal to do something about the lives of those less fortunate than himself and he wasn’t afraid to get involved.
He had his brother, Hugh, to thank for that.
The hardest part was choosing which children he helped and which he did not. The need was so great; the number of children orphaned or abandoned so high he could have
