Chapter 5

Over the next few days, the men grew accustomed to the schedule he’d set up for them and proved to be able recruits for his purpose. They worked in four-hour watches. Caleb made sure both the manor house and the grounds were covered, and he made unscheduled rounds himself to verify everything was safe. He’d also sent a note to Ford Remington to ask him to send out at least a dozen men, preferably former soldiers, who could be trusted to serve as guards. Between Ford and the other fellows in the Traitor’s Club he felt sure they’d find enough men.

Fifteen men arrived within the week, reassuring Caleb that he had rendered the children—and Lady Eleanor—as safe as possible here at home. It had turned out to be rather more challenging to convince Lady Eleanor to let them stay than it had been to acquire them in the first place. Food and lodging for fifteen additional adults was no small matter. But the men insinuated themselves rather seamlessly into the environment, and the individual skills they brought in carpentry, gardening, and rodent trapping soon had the lady quietly accepting their presence.

He’d caught Lady Eleanor in an unguarded moment at breakfast that morning and proceeded to draw her into an explanation of how her Monday night rescues usually went.

“The ones where I rescue the children? Or you rescue me?”

Caleb smiled at her quip. It was a good sign, one that said she might be feeling a bit easier around him.

“Do you always come back with children?”

“No, not always. Sometimes we return empty-handed, and sometimes we return with up to three or four.”

“What ages?”

“From a few days old to ten or twelve.”

“Why must they be younger than ten or twelve? Aren’t there children who need to be cared for who are older than twelve?”

She was quiet a moment, and when her words came, he heard the regret behind them. “The older ones are harder, more set in their wayward ways. They find it difficult to . . . trust.”

Caleb stared at a fragile Italian figurine of two pauper children that sat just inches away on a round three-legged table of inlaid wood. He wondered how it was that he’d never realized how dangerous it was for the children who were left helpless due to no fault of their own. He wondered how the citizens of London had allowed so many children to die without lifting a hand to help them.

“What happens to the children when they reach twelve?”

“Our staff knows by then what each child enjoys doing. If they like working with horses, we find a place for them where they can work in the stables. If they enjoy farming, we find a tenant farm where they can live and work. Some of the girls learn to make lace or apprentice to one of the smaller modistes or milliners. I use my name and my grandmother’s influence to find places for them.”

“Your grandmother’s influence?”

“Yes. My grandmother is the Duchess of Hampstam.”

Caleb fought the pressure inside his chest. Lady Eleanor wasn’t only a countess—she was the granddaughter of a duke. He suddenly felt the vastness of the world that lay between his rough muslin shirt and her pretty damask gown. It was a stabbing realization that jarred his common bones and put him soundly in his place.

It reminded Caleb why he was actually in this beautiful, elegant, noblewoman’s drawing room. And he reminded himself not to get too comfortable with it.

“Where will we go first?” he asked.

“The first stop will be at Mary Warren’s in upper Saint Giles. We stop only if there’s a light in the window. A light signals she has a child for us.”

Caleb shifted in his chair, letting his displeasure show. “A light in the window. That’s it? You see a light in the window of a seedy London back-alley tumbledown and that’s all it takes for you to stop your carriage and walk right in?”

Now it was Lady Eleanor’s turn to squirm. “Well, we’re careful of course. We do check the area before we get out, you know.”

“Ah,” Caleb nodded. “Of course.” He was fairly certain his sarcasm was not lost on her. But she continued outlining the night’s route.

“The next stop will be Granny Carver’s. She lives on the second floor above the rag shop at the end of High Holburn. It’s just five or six minutes beyond Mary’s.”

Caleb looked up. “Same thing? Light in the window?”

She cleared her throat and nodded.

“And then?”

“If there’s room in the carriage, the last stop will be Dora Stafford’s. She lives behind the graveyard.”

She fell silent.

“That’s it, then? Mary’s, Granny’s, and Dora’s, then home with the kiddies?”

Lady Eleanor pursed her pretty lips and lifted her chin. “How many children have you seen here, Captain? How many years have I been doing this, Captain? What would you have me do? Dig a tunnel from here to there? I have a scheme that works, sir. Those children you see beyond the window are here because it works.” She stood. “We leave at midnight Monday. No sooner, no later. You’ll ride in the carriage. And you’ll most likely have a child or two on your lap for the ride home. I expect you to be nice.”

She walked to the door and he followed suit. “Indeed, ma’am. I shall be sweet as honey.” He turned to leave. “But after this it will be two candles in the window. One tall, one short. Anything other and we won’t be stopping. Be sure to tell your ladies. And we go Thursday. Not Monday.”

“What? Why would I—”

“Because, my lady, they now know you make your rescues on Monday. By next Monday Blackboot’s men will be all over Saint Giles. So our new night is Thursday. Which means,” he smiled, “we go tonight.”

The shocked look on her face pleased him. The fact that she offered no objection pleased him more. Caleb strode through the open door and half-turned with a casual salute.

“See you at midnight, duchess.”

. . .

It was a beautiful evening with a gentle breeze and a full moon. Everything seemed quiet as he went from guard to guard. Until he reached the spot where Willie was keeping watch at the edge of the grounds.

“I’m glad you’re here, Captain. I think someone’s out there.”

Caleb reached for his pistol and stayed hidden behind the hedgerow where Willie was crouching and listened. Someone was moving in the darkness.

“Stay here,” Caleb said. “I’m going to take a look. I’ll yell if I need help. Fire your weapon in the air before you come so the other men know we need help.” He’d spent the afternoon coaching Willie how to load and reload the new pistol he’d given him. The lad was keen for it and with a decent weapon in his hands now, he’d proven to be a fine shot.

“Yes, sir.”

Caleb kept to the shadows, then followed a hedgerow as he made his way beyond the grounds. There was an open meadow that made anyone approaching the manor house a clear target. A grove of trees lined one side of the meadow, which would be the easiest way to approach without being seen.

Caleb stopped to listen and a moment later he heard it. At first he thought it might be the keening sound of an injured animal. Or perhaps a human.

He stayed in the shadows until he came near the spot from which the sound had emanated, then entered the trees. At first he saw nothing. But moments later the moon slipped from behind a cloud, and he saw her.

Not far from him, a young girl of perhaps fifteen paced back and forth. The keening sound he’d heard was the heartrending cry of a human in pain.

“Don’t be afraid,” Caleb said softly. “I won’t hurt you.”

The startled girl clutched the bundle she held closer to her body and turned to face him. Tears ran down her cheeks, but when she tried to speak, nothing came out of her mouth except a mournful cry.

Caleb stepped closer to her.

“Are you . . . from . . . the house?” she said between sobs.

“Yes.”

She lowered her head and kissed the bundle in her arms, then held it out to him. “The babe’s name . . . is . . . is . . . Molly,” she stammered. “Give her to the lady. Please!”

The girl pushed the bundle against his chest, and Caleb had no choice but to take the babe. “Come with me. You can talk to Lady Grattling. Maybe there’s something—”

“No,” the girl cried. “There’s nothing. My da says if I don’t give her up, I can’t live at home no longer. And I don’t have no place else to go.”

The babe shifted, snuggling closer to his chest, and before Caleb could say more, the girl turned and stumbled into the darkness, sobbing as she ran. “When she’s old enough . . . make sure she knows her ma . . . loved her.”

And she was gone.

Caleb looked down at the bundle in his arms and wondered how the babe could sleep through what had just happened, but she did.

He turned and walked back to the manor house. The small babe in his arms was as light as a feather, and yet Caleb felt as if he were carrying the weight of the world.

How many human lives hung in the balance between death and safety, waiting for someone like Lady Eleanor to take them in? How many would perish because there was no one to bring them to Southern Oaks?

Caleb carried the precious bundle toward the house.

“Did you find anything?” Willie asked as Caleb approached.

“Yes. I found a babe.”

Willie looked at the sleeping infant. “She’s not too old.”

“No, and neither was her mother.”

“At least she got her here. Lady Eleanor will make sure she gets a good start.”

Caleb nodded, then walked to the manor house to hand the child over to Lady Eleanor. With each step he became more comfortable with little Molly in his arms. It surprised him as much as it did each time Robby stumbled across his big feet and jumped up to flash Caleb an open, cheery grin. Each time he saw one of the children struggling with a load too large but refusing help. Their resilience, their unfettered joy and determination lifted his soul each time he witnessed it. It was a strange and foreign feeling. It pulled at his heart. And it was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get over.

. . .

Eleanor looked at the mantel clock when it chimed and closed the ledgers she’d been working on. It was Thursday night, and in two hours they’d make their first orphan run together. She was never sure whether she hoped her helpers had found more children that needed to be rescued or that finally they’d rescued every last child living on the street and there were no more.

She rose from behind her desk at the knock on the door. She knew who it was.

“Yes,” she said, then looked up when the door opened.

She started to walk forward, then walked faster when she saw what he had in his arms. “Where did you find it?” she said, taking the bundle from him.

“It’s a girl. Her name is Molly, and her mother said to make sure that when she’s older, you tell her that her mother loved her.”

Eleanor swallowed past the lump in her throat. It never got easier. No matter how many children she rescued, knowing that the lucky ones who made it to Southern Oaks would never know their mothers or fathers left an empty hole in her heart.

Eleanor held the sleeping babe in her arms and vowed she would make sure little Molly was always loved.

“The lass didn’t want to give her up,” he said. “But she was little more than a child herself.”

“Then it’s best she brought her,” Eleanor said. “Give me a few moments. I’ll take our Molly to the nursery and give her to Jenny. She’ll take care of her.”

Eleanor turned and walked toward the door. His voice stopped her.

“How do you do it? How can you be around such sadness day after day?”

Eleanor turned and looked at the tortured expression on Caleb Parker’s handsome face. His powerful physique and the fearlessness with which he’d tackled Blackboot’s threats—to say nothing of the leadership he’d shown that inspired courage among her staff—impressed her more and more each day. Yet he was brought to his knees by a helpless babe in the arms of its weeping mother.

“This isn’t sadness, Captain. This is success. Sadness is when we fail to find a child before it’s too late. Sadness is knowing we lost one of God’s dear children.” She tilted her head toward the infant. “And this one’s mother might have been lost if she had not shown such heartbreaking courage.”

Caleb nodded slowly, the child’s future and the young mother’s loss seeming to loom before him.

“She . . .” He began to speak, then hesitated. But something nudged him to continue. “She’ll need a last name.”

Lady Eleanor smiled. “That she will.”

“Maybe Parker’s as good a last name as any?”

Eleanor watched him shift uncomfortably. “Then Parker it is.” She hugged the babe. “Now, Mistress Molly Parker, let me take you to the nursery. Then it’s off to London. To see if there are more little Molly Parkers to save this night.”