“Bram?” Eva’s voice shouted hoarse at his back. “Is Penny here?”
Blast. He couldn’t fight with Eva standing so close—and judging by the sneering grin on the hulk in front of him, that man knew it as well. Gritting his teeth, Bram dug into his pocket and pulled out the pouch of his remaining coins. How he’d make it home was anybody’s guess.
“Here.” He thrust the leather pouch into the man’s big hand. “Let us pass.”
Testing the weight of the coins in his palm—and apparently satisfied—the bully shoved the money inside his coat and strolled away.
A great sigh heaved from Bram’s lungs, then he faced Eva. “I told you to remain in the foyer.”
“How could I when I fear Penny is in here somewhere?” Her jaw quivered.
And squeezed his heart. “All right but stay close.”
He led her from the factory floor into the piecing room, which—though he couldn’t believe it possible—was even more dismal and depressing. It was a cramped space, cluttered with piles of fabric and spools of thread. Dust hung in the air, clung to the body, coated the tongue. Long wooden tables lined each wall, thesnip-snip-snipof scissors cutting harsh holes into the ear. Most children stood at their workstations, dressed in garments little better than rags. Those too short stood on crates. Those with bent legs or none at all sat on rickety stools.
Bram scanned for Penny’s slight form, and when he spied her in the farthest corner, Eva must have as well, for she took off in a run.
“Penny!” Eva clung to her sister.
He wrapped his arms around the two of them, their weeping breaking off pieces of his heart until nothing but the need to leave this place pounded in his chest. “Come. I am taking you both home.”
By then several other children had gathered around, one of whom tugged on Eva’s skirts. “Mish Inman! Pleash. Take me home too.”
Eva pulled away, bending toward a girl with a deformed lip, and as she stared at the child, she gasped. “Little Ginny? Can it be?”
“It can be because it is Ginny Novak,” Penny cut in. “Andy Kitman and Lucy Watson are here too. Mrs. Mortimer didn’t find them positions any more than she sent me to school. She sold us all to Mr. Greenwell, knowing we’d never make our way home from here.”
Eva glanced wildly around, then snapped her pale face tohim. “She is right. There is Andy on that stool, the one with the clubfoot, and farther down is young Lucy, who cannot hear. Oh, Bram.” She lifted a shaky hand to her mouth. “This is horrible.”
No, this was criminal. And yet not a judge in the land would begrudge a profitable businessman his workers, no matter the age or impediment.
Shoving down a fresh burst of rage, Bram forced an even tone to his voice. “I will carry Andy, and you make a chain of the other children. We will take them all home.”
“What about us?” Three more girls pulled on his sleeve, one of whom held Lucy’s hand. “Can we come too?”
Oh,God.He glanced at the lint-coated rafters.What am I to do?
“We cannot leave them here, not if they wish to go.” Eva’s words may as well have been the voice of the Almighty, for deep in his heart, he knew he couldn’t turn his back on such a plea.
“All right.” He lifted his voice to be heard by all—which might be a mistake, but so be it. “Any who wish to return to their homes instead of working for Mr. Greenwell, clasp hands with the one in front of you and I shall lead you out.”
Without waiting to see just how many would take him up on his offer, he strode over to a towheaded, clubfooted boy and swung him off the stool. “Are you Andy?”
“Aye, sir.” Impossibly blue eyes gazed at him in awe. “Are you really taking me back to my mum?”
“God willing, young master.” He hefted the boy up to his shoulder, then spoke under his breath, “Please be willing, Lord.”
He strode past Eva. “Bring up the rear, if you will.”
“Thank you.” She beamed.
“Do not thank me yet. We have not made it out of here.”
With a firm grip on Andy and not just a little trepidation, he stalked from the room. This time eyeballs did turn his way—and no wonder. What a circus he led. The workers closest to them stood idle, sewing machines forgotten, trouser legs leftunsewn. Near the opening to the foyer, the big foreman stood with his arms folded, a smug tilt to his head. Bram swallowed hard. It would take a miracle to make it past that cully. He had no more money.
Surprisingly, though, the man let him pass with nothing but a smirk. That had been easy.
Too easy.
