Kuni slept restlessly, her dreams full of children and accidents. She awoke long before the sun.
Nor was she the only one up early.
In the beautiful, glorious nation of Balcovia, royals apparently broke their fast in the first moments of dawn. Kuni, Marjorie, Chloe, and the fake Princess Mechtilda were ready to leave for the manufactory tour within a quarter hour of the first employees’ arrival. Or perhaps they were not employees, but apprentices, forced out of desperation to sign long-term, exploitative contracts.
But although the Wynchesters had risen with the sun, Mr. and Mrs. Throckmorten did not. They seemed to have no difficulty sleeping at night and were still snoring audibly at ten o’clock in the morning.
Kuni, Marjorie, Elizabeth, and Chloe stood impatiently in the dining room, awaiting their hosts.
Tommy went out to refine her maps. Jacob checked on the horses. Philippa in her guise as maid and Graham in his livery went to glean whatever intelligence—or gossip—they could from the servants.
It was noon before the Throckmortens were bathed and dressed and downstairs to break their fast and greet their guests.
“Town hours,” Elizabeth muttered when the stairs finally creaked. “As if they’d been out waltzing until six.”
Mr. and Mrs. Throckmorten did not seem to notice they had kept their guests waiting.
“Oh, look,” Mrs. Throckmorten exclaimed with a laugh. “We’ve come downstairs at the same time!”
Kuni refrained from responding only because she represented the Royal Guard.
Finally, after the longest second breakfast of Kuni’s life, Mr. Throckmorten escorted them down a winding road through the trees to the cotton mill.
It was every bit as repugnant as she had feared.
There were plenty of windows, which was both a blessing and a curse. During daylight hours when it was sunny, there would be no problem seeing the machines clearly. But because rain was always imminent and dirt could travel on the wind and damage the cotton, the glass was always kept shut. The sun’s warmth amplified inside the large, unventilated room, beating down upon sweaty bodies hunched over tables or crawling between moving machines.
With the windows closed, the machines were even louder, their racket echoing off the dirty panes and the scarred walls. The poor laborers must work with their temples pounding from the noise and return home with a roaring headache every night.
Kuni glimpsed little Victor right away. His ruddy cheeks and orange hair were exactly as his grandparents had described.
His mother was just as simple to spot. Adella Goodnight’s pregnant belly was the only protuberance on her slender frame. As her son scurried between the machines, she watched him so closely, her own fingers had several near misses with moving parts.
Mr. Throckmorten checked his pocket watch for a third time, as if bored by it all. Kuni had to step closer to make out his words over the noise.
Mr. Throckmorten was not nearly as impressed with Princess Mechtilda as his wife. He said he did not recognize any royalty but his own.
Kuni wasn’t certain whether he was referring to England’s monarch or to himself.
“Well, there it is.” He straightened his waistcoat and patted his breast pocket to be certain it still contained its cigar. “I’m afraid I’m late for my appointment. If there’s nothing else, you should return to the house and do whatever it is that ladies do.”
“Might we stay a bit and look around?” Chloe asked.
“Don’t go near the machines,” Mr. Throckmorten advised. “If they catch your hem or a sleeve, that’s it.”
Chloe gave him her practiced smile. “Her Royal Highness thanks you for sharing your home, your hospitality, and your knowledgeable experience.”
“Eh, a child could run one of these operations.” He retrieved the cigar from his coat pocket and stored it in the corner of his mouth instead. “Just be sure to employ a trustworthy supervisor, or you’ll catch the curs trying to eat at their posts instead of keeping their minds on their work.”
“In my country—” Elizabeth began.
“Bavaria, you say?” The cigar bobbed as he spoke.
“Balcovia,” Chloe murmured. “But close.”
Kuni shut her eyes. Bavaria was a famous—and landlocked—kingdom within the German empire.Balcovia, on the other hand, was a beautiful coastal country known for—
“Bah.” Mr. Throckmorten took another unsubtle peek at his pocket watch. “Never stepped foot outside England, and never will.”
