Alice hovered in the doorway to the room. She wore a gray pinstripe dress with a crisp gray apron. With her hair neatlypinned back in a simple bun and covered by a white kerchief, her round brown eyes looked huge as they scanned Caroline’s room.
She smiled at the girl. “Please come in, Alice. I’ve wanted to hear how you are settling in.” Caroline nodded to Susie, and her maid exited, closing the door behind her.
“I just wanted to come and tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for me.” Alice’s eyes began to water, and she gulped in a deep breath. “Ye saved me for sure.”
“Here, sit down.” She gestured to the settee. “Alice, I’m so glad I was able to help. How long were you at Mrs. Gwyn’s?”
The girl crossed the room to the settee. She had the gangly stride of an adolescent not entirely used to her height. Even though she had the curves of a grown woman, she was still all long arms and legs like a young colt. Caroline remembered that stage. She had always felt clumsy even though she aspired to be elegant. It struck her again, at fifteen, how young Alice seemed.
Alice sat on the edge of the cushions. “Only a week. I was held in a small room in the attic. Mrs. Gwyn said she was saving me for something special. That my virginity was going to bring her a pretty penny.”
Caroline gasped. She couldn’t believe the depravity.
“I’m sorry, miss. I don’t mean to shock you. I just wanted to say that you saved me before anything bad could happen to me. The party was supposed to be this week.”
“The party?”
“Yes, miss, some fancy party. Some toff hired Mrs. Gwyn to provide a bunch of girls to be at his bac…baakin…”
“Bacchanal?” Caroline offered. Hell’s bells! That had to be what she’d overheard those men talking about. Lord Devonshire’s party. The vulgar little bastard.
“Yes, that’s the word. Mrs. Gwyn said I was going to be the center of attention. And wasn’t I special?” Alice grimaced.
“Alice, that’s awful!” She was going to go straight to the magistrate and have Mrs. Gwyn’s place shut down. The trouble was Mrs. Gwyn wasn’t doing anything against the law. But the use of children for sex damn well should be against the law! Caroline rose and paced across the carpet, furious, yet again, at the way the world worked.
Alice shrugged. “Livin’ with my pa wasn’t much better. At least Mrs. Gwyn fed me. But I’m here now, and I love working for Mrs. Bloom. Thank you.”
Caroline sucked in a cleansing breath. “You’re welcome, Alice.”
Alice stared over Caroline’s shoulder, and she turned to see what had caught the girl’s attention. The half-finished painting of Morgan sat on its easel by the window.
“Your painting is real nice, miss. He sure is a handsome bloke.” Alice let out a small sigh.
A smile tugged at the corner of Caroline’s mouth. Apparently, Morgan could charm the opposite sex even in portraiture.
Alice stood. “I’d best be getting back to work.” She gave a quick curtsy. She headed for the door but stopped halfway across the room. Alice turned to face Caroline. Biting her bottom lip, she opened and closed her mouth twice.
“Alice, what is it? You can tell me anything.”
Alice finally spoke. “The thing is, I can’t help but wonder who Mrs. Gwyn will get to replace me.”
Chapter 15
Caroline stepped from her carriage onto the packed dirt lane of Fordham Rd. Number 43 was a red brick building sandwiched right in the middle of a long row of townhomes. It wasn’t at all what she expected a newspaper office to look like. There was no bustle of people in and out of the building, no sign proclaiming what lies within. How would one even get a printing press inside such a small building? She knew that the London Chronicle was housed in a large freestanding warehouse near the docks. She had passed by it once when her brother had invited her to see his new ship.
This building was narrow and rose three stories. The door sported an enormous knocker in the shape of a lion’s head. The place could not have been more non-descript. She glanced down at the note in her hand.#43 Fordham Rdwas the correct address. She had written to the editor, an E. M. Sullivan, to request a private meeting. Turning to William, she said, “Let’s see what this editor is all about, shall we?”
William nodded his head. She had told Mr. Gregory that she wanted William to be at her disposal as coachman from now on. His loyalty and discretion made him indispensable.
William banged the knocker three times. Then he stepped back to stand behind her. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, briefly setting the windows of the house shining. The front door opened, and a tall, lanky young man with shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows smiled at them. A long black grease mark streaked his forehead.
“Welcome, you must be Miss Aston. Please come in.”
“Mr. Sullivan?” Surely this wasn’t the editor? Newspapermen were old, with white hair and bushy eyebrows, which dramatically rose and fell as they spoke of politics and the city's woes.
“Oh, no.” A bright red flush stained the young man’s cheeks. “Right this way. She’s in her office.” He stepped back and gestured with one hand for them to enter.
She? Caroline glanced back at William, and he shrugged in return. Caroline stepped through the threshold and followed the man down a short hallway. He knocked on a closed door then ushered them into a large room that, at first glance, appeared to be part study, part drawing room.
