Because she removed her teeth—the bottom row anyway, and held them out for Amelia to inspect. “Early on, we found a man who was willing to pay for teeth.”
Amelia blinked. She was aware there were members of thetonwho wore dentures, but they didn’t come cheaply. And she never thought she’d see them outside of a person’s mouth. The sight was… a little unsettling. But she shook her head.
“They’re pricy, aren’t they?”
Fanny nodded, putting the teeth back inside her mouth.
“A bunch of us did it.” She shifted her jaw around. “But it hurt something fierce. It wasn’t for everyone. So most of the boys kept to pickin’ pockets. Get caught, though, and you’re sent to the workhouse.”
Amelia dipped her chin, fascinated but still waiting to hear how Mr. Beckworth had accrued enough money to build his small empire. He certainly appeared to have retained all of his teeth, but then, so had Fanny until just a moment ago.
“Bex made up this metal tool, called it his ‘pinchers’. It wasn’t long before he was selling enough teeth to feed us all. And more. Especially after Waterloo.”
“He sold his teeth?” Amelia was trying to piece together what the woman was telling her.
“Not his own. Dead people’s.” Fanny grimaced, and Amelia’s eyes widened, unable to completely hide her shock. “Like I said, desperate people do desperate things. Wasn’t hurting anyone though, really. The dead don’t have much use for them, now do they?”
All the blood must have drained out of Amelia’s face, because the maid rose from her chair, fanning her apron and looking concerned. “I shouldn’t have told you all that. You’ll keep this between you and me, won’t you? ‘Cause Mr. Beckworth takescare of his own. Made sure we had jobs back in London, and then brought those of us willing to work to this lovely manor. He even bought me these a few years back.” She tapped at her mouth. “So I’ll never betray that man. This is between you and me, right?”
Amelia nodded again. And then met Fanny’s stare. “I won’t tell a soul,” she said. “I promise.”
Long after Fanny closed the door behind her, and long after the tea she’d delivered was cold, Amelia sat staring into the fire.
Shocked initially. And then horrified.
And then humbled.
She’d imagined tightly-bound stays were the worst a person could suffer, but what would it feel like to be so hungry you could believe your belly pressed into your back?
How desperate did a man have to be to rob the dead of their teeth?
And Amelia had been boasting about making silly little toys.
No wonder he’d marched out of the dining room.
No wonder.
RULE NO. ONE
After inspecting the shipment and then overseeing that they were loaded onto their various vehicles properly, Leopold still couldn’t erase the expression she’d sent as he’d stormed out of the dining room. A heart-wrenching twist of confusion and guilt.
He needed to apologize, damn it.
Once inside, however, after making a thorough search downstairs, there was no sign of her anywhere. When he finally resorted to asking Bessie, she informed him that Lady Amelia had spent the entirety of the day in her chamber.
Which, well, that was most likely his fault. He didn’t much like that particular feeling.
Leopold rubbed his fist against his sternum.
He’d half-hoped to find her flitting around the manor or to hear that she’d been exploring outside with a few members of his team, but upon finding out that she’d instead cooped herself up all day, the guilt he’d tried tamping down blossomed into a stabbing feeling.
This wasn’t the first time he’d experienced the emotion since becoming acquainted with Lady Amelia Crowley. And, mostunfortunately, despite his desire to blame her, he wasn’t that much of an ass.
All she could be blamed for was proving him wrong. Because she was not, in fact, an emptyheaded, selfish, spoiled debutante.
Not even close.
As he took to climbing the steps at a thoughtful pace, he rehearsed what he might say to her. Perhaps he could get through this easily. They’d made a truce this morning, hadn’t they? Before he’d walked out on her at breakfast.
