Kuni’s gaze shot up toward Chloe. “When we were discussing Parliament, didn’t you say that was against the law? If a factory owner has three or more apprentices, he must limit their hours?”
“That’s right. Itisagainst the law…which happens all the time.” Chloe cast her eyes around the room. “The regional inspector should report the circumvention when he makes his inspection.”
Victor shook his head. “He doesn’t inspect. He drinks whisky with Mr. Throckmorten.”
Bothmen were circumventing the law for personal gain.
Kuni gazed about the crowded room. “Every one of these laborers needs a personal guard.”
“Exactly,” said Elizabeth. “That’s who the inspector issupposedto be.”
“The inspector is a Mr. Durbridge,” Kuni recalled. “Tommy has his residence marked on her maps. Graham heard about their gaming habit.”
Chloe’s eyes shone. “We can’t change each individual factory, but wecanreplace an incompetent inspector with someone who does his job. Mr. Durbridge must be in charge of inspecting dozens of mills like this one. Perhaps hundreds. All we have to do—”
Adella ran up to them, one hand curved protectively beneath her belly. “Is everything all right? Is Victor bothering you?”
“He’s wonderful,” Marjorie told her. “And I think thingsaregoing to be all right.”
“Your parents sent us,” Chloe whispered.
Adella’s face cleared. “You’re—”
Chloe nodded. “We understand the inspector withholds information from his report?”
“Inspector,” Adella spat. “Mr. Durbridge is a criminal, just like Mr. Throckmorten. That’s where he is now and every afternoon. A few miles down the river at Mr. Durbridge’s house, gambling with wages that belong tous.”
“He doesn’t pay his employees’ wages?” Kuni asked in disbelief.
“Often enough to keep us coming back,” Adella answered. “But we’re docked for every infraction. Injured? Lost wages. Killed?” Her mouth stuttered the word and her eyes filled with tears before she blinked them away. “My husband died the day before his monthly wages were due. Since Ned was no longer employed, Mr. Throckmorten kept the money.”
“That putrid tufted turnip,” Kuni growled.
Adella’s eyes glistened. “Mr. Durbridge and Mr. Throckmorten both would rather lose our money at casino than allow us a farthing for funeral expenses. All the coin he’s found a pretext to keep stays locked in his desk in a clay jar, just to taunt us with his power and our lack.”
“We saw that jar,” Marjorie said. “It’s shaped like a pig. He took it when he offered us whisky.”
“He’sthe knurly, pettifogging swine.”
Adella made a face. “Mr. Throckmorten makes a dramatic production of holding up the pig whenever someone disappoints him, just to keep the rest of us too frightened to defy him. He’s been winning at cards lately, he tells us. The jar is almost too heavy for him to carry.”
“I reviewed the maps on our journey north,” Kuni said. “If I recall correctly, the residence has some sort of shrubbery all around the house and garden, and a small exit behind the property.”
“Rosebushes and a hedgerow.” Adella looked impressed. “The rear access to the river path is marked with two large white posts and cannot be missed. But why does it matter where Mr. Durbridge lives? He’ll be there gambling with Mr. Throckmorten until nightfall.”
“Withyourcoins,” Marjorie said.
“Not just mine,” Adella said grimly. “That money belonged to me and many others. Including the child injured in the same accident that killed my Ned. Our loved ones are gone forever, but if we could at least have all our lost wages back…”
Kuni exchanged a slow smile with Elizabeth. “Done.”
33
Graham reunited with the others in Elizabeth’s—ahem, Princess Mechtilda’s—private guest chamber.
“How was Her Highness’s visit with Mr. Throckmorten?” he asked.
“He sawthis…” Elizabeth tried to look down at her bustled hips and enormous flounced skirts, but could not, because the jutting disk of her wide ruff blocked any view of her body. “…and thought I wasGerman.”
