“We will,” the man assured her. “First, we must get you and your things off this wharf and then notify the Thames River Police and the local magistrates.”
“Thames River Police? What is this Thames River Police?” Rani asked, her face screwed up in confusion at the unknown words.
“They work to prevent crime along the wharves and the river. I will get someone to take care of your luggage to keep it safe. Wait here,” he said.
“Wait!” She grabbed his forearm. “Your name, please, sir?”
“Yes! Where are my manners? I am David Thornbridge of Waddley Spice and Tea Company. That is our warehouse over there.” He pointed to one of the large brick buildings. “And you?”
“I am Rani Rangaswamy.”
He nodded. “I’ll have your things taken to the Waddley warehouse for safekeeping while we hunt for the boy. What is his name?”
“Christopher Sedgewick. His mother called him Krishan. His father, he calls him Kit.”
The gentleman’s eyes widened at hearing the name. “We will find him. I promise you. We will find him.”
Rani looked at the English gentleman and her heart felt lighter. A tiny flame of hope flickered to life.
* * *
Sedgewick!
That was the Earl of Soothcoor’s family name! If the child was a Sedgewick, the Earl would want heaven and earth moved to find him, no matter how remote the connection. Damn, Soothcoor would do that for any child, regardless of relationship, as would his own employer, Lady Branstoke.
David didn’t know whether he should bless or curse the mudlark who’d told him about the foreigner crying. He’d had his eye on the lad for a while, wondering if he could entice him out of his thieving occupation with other work. This might be the opportunity to do so.
He spotted one of his burly warehousemen pulling an empty hogshead cart and waved him over, instructing him to have the woman’s small mound of baggage stored in their warehouse.
“See that they take it to the third floor and put it to the side. Tell the clerk up there to mark it for the Earl of Soothcoor.”
“Aye, sar,” the man said. He immediately began loading his cart with the baggage.
David turned back to the woman beside him. “Come, we’ll ask after the child and put out word for his recovery,” he told her, leading her down the dock.
“How old is the boy?” he asked as they hurried forward. He had to change his pace for her. She likely didn’t have her land legs yet if she’d just disembarked from the ship from India, and her petite stature would have her doing two paces to his one.
“Five,” she said. “He has five summers.”
“Can you give me his description?”
“Yes, yes! He is thin—the sea voyage not good for him. His hair and eyes are brown.”
“What is he wearing?”
“Orange shirt. That is how I saw him. An orange shirt and light pants, like sails. And sandals. Oh, his feet will get so cold here,” she lamented.
David looked down at her green and gold saree and sandaled feet. “So will yours. Do you have warmer clothes?”
“No, no. Sahib, he give me money and say I must buy clothes in England.”
“What did he tell you to do when you got here? Did no one know you were coming?”
She shook her head. “No, there was no time,” she said. “He believe he was dying. He say to go to his brother. He give me the address and a letter for him. I sent it when the ship dock, but no one comes,” she said, her brow furrowing with her sad frown.
David silently swore. If ever there was a more fraught situation, he didn’t know what it was. Two weeks ago,The Timesreported the Earl of Soothcoor numbered among the London residents who had left the city until the new year. Would any of his London staff be at his residence, or would they have left the city as well? Many London residents left a minimum staff in their London townhomes when they were away. They took the rest of the staff with them or gave them holidays, depending on the time of year and how long the family intended to be away from the city.
“I am afraid it is likely he is not in town,” he gently told her.
