After a long week, the four were almost home, and they brought a petition with well over a thousand signatures. They ought to be tired, but the success of the mission filled them all with energy. After a quick bath and something to eat, they would be off again—this time, scattered in different directions.
Tommy and Philippa would head straight to Parliament to give Chloe the good news. The Duke of Faircliffe and Philippa’s father were already recruiting MPs with influence to talk to their voters about staging an event to bring awareness to the cause. Now Mr. York could present a motion for immediate change in the House of Commons. Jacob could not wait to visit his barn.
As for Graham…He’d promised Kunigunde a romantic supper for two. He hoped she planned to accept his offer. Before he’d left, Graham was certain they’d almost kissed. He’d been looking forward to another chance ever since.
Graham was already out the door before the carriage rolled to a stop. There was still an hour of sunlight left, and his limbs were tired of sitting still. He stretched his arms as he jogged to the front door. He would have climbed the exterior wall straight to his bedchamber for a bath, but could not resist the temptation to poke his head into the sitting room to see who might be home.
Elizabeth reclined on one of the sofas, surrounded by a mountain of cushions, two sword sticks, and a pitcher of arrack punch. His chest tightened with sympathy.
“How are you feeling?” He walked closer to get a better look at her.
Sometimes her bad spells were only for a few hours. Other times, they lasted for days. All the doctors could do was prescribe rest, laudanum, and bloodletting.
Elizabeth refused to allow anyone to spill a drop of her blood, but she had no choice about having a rest. Her body would let her know when it was ready to be active again.
“Ugh,” she said. “I’ve been prostrate since last evening. I hate missing all the excitement.”
His blood quickened. “Do we have another case?”
“No.”
He waited for more information, but it was not forthcoming. “Was there some sort of adventure?”
“Adventures all week.” She shifted on her pillows to reach for her glass of punch. “How was your mission? Did you collect signatures from every living creature in the region?”
Jacob, Tommy, and Philippa arrived in time to hear the question.
“Almost,” Philippa answered with pride. “Some of the ones still employed at the manufactory were afraid to sign, lest they lose their livelihoods, and of course we did not take signatures from small children.”
“And large children?” Elizabeth asked.
“If they’re old enough to be eligible for employment, they’re old enough to have an opinion on the exploitation of their labor,” Jacob said. “We let anyone sign who was willing to. Previous employees need not fear retribution and were all eager to sign.”
“Whilst Graham led the reconnaissance,” Tommy said, “Philippa arranged for a team of dozens to knock on every door they could. She has done this sort of thing for her father before and was brilliant at leading the charge.”
Philippa smiled. “Thank you. Most petitions never reach more than a few hundred names, even here in London. The population of Tipford-upon-Bealbrook is fewer than six thousand.”
“How many people signed the petition?”
Tommy grinned. “One thousand five hundred.”
Elizabeth looked impressed. “Brilliant work!”
“We’ll take the petition to Chloe as soon as we’ve freshened up.” Philippa linked her fingers with Tommy’s. “Shall we?”
Whatever Tommy whispered in her ear had Philippa’s cheeks blushing pink, and they disappeared from the salon without delay.
The other siblings grinned at each other.
“Lovebirds.” Elizabeth shook her head. “If I didn’t have a heart of stone, I should find it deeply romantic.”
“You do find it deeply romantic,” Graham assured her. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
“What are the next steps?” Elizabeth asked as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Faircliffe will meet with Philippa’s father in the morning,” Jacob said. “After that, its speed depends upon the House of Commons.”
Elizabeth’s lips twisted in frustration. “Is there nothing we can do in the meantime?”
