Chapter Four
Lanora took in the dwindling line with satisfaction. After three days in the small building on the back of the church, she’d finally handed out enough bread that people had better activities for their time than waiting for it. Sadly, in a few more days they would be willing to line up again, but for now they and their families were fed. She wished she could offer meat as well, but it wasn’t practical to distribute.
Perhaps meat pies, she mused. Grace would know what was best. Lanora should likewise look into procuring fruit. As she handed out the last few loaves of bread, she pictured the look on Grace’s face at the suggestion of a trip to the wharfs to bargain for fruit.
“No thank you, Missus,” the woman standing before her said.
Lanora blinked. “You don’t want bread?”
The woman, not much older than Lanora and too frail to be turning down food, shook her head. “I was wanting to ask a favor of you, Missus.” She leaned close. “In private.”
Lanora looked down the line. “Well, I’ve only a few dozen more loaves, and I count about twenty people in line. If you take some to the end of the line, I’ll be free to speak with you sooner.”
The woman nodded. Clean enough hands scooped up an armful of loaves. She scuttled away as Lanora resumed passing out bread. The murmurs and suspicious looks ended as soon as the young woman began handing out what she carried.
By the time the line was gone, Lanora had only four loaves remaining. Those she took outside, where she knew urchins lurked. They were too afraid to enter, as parentless children were often rounded up and put into orphanages. Hungry eyes watched her lay the loaves on the bottom step and walk away, gesturing for the woman to follow. Trying to nourish the urchins was like feeding feral cats. They suspected every kindness of being a trap.
The woman fell in stride with her as they passed from the churchyard to the narrow street, her gaze shifted past Lanora’s shoulder. “Them boys belong in an orphanage, or a workhouse.”
“That’s hardly my trouble,” Lanora said. “I aim only to give them a respite from hunger.”
The woman chewed on her lip. “Where are we going?”
“I’m going to visit the foreman in charge of the new home for women, Mr. Finch. May I assume speaking while we walk is private enough?” The woman seemed harmless, but Lanora wasn’t about to go off alone with her. She wasn’t the fool Grace worried she was.
“Are they really building a place for women whose menfolk have abandoned them and their babes?” The woman sounded wistful.
“They are.” At least, if Lanora had any say, they were. “Progress should never have stopped. Is that what you wished to speak with me about, Miss?”
“Missus Banke. I’m a widow, like you, Missus.”
Lanora smoothed her dull grey skirt. She could play a role, but wasn’t an accomplished dissembler. She found it best to bring a falsehood into being quickly and let rumor carry it through. If she had to lie to the face of each person, she wouldn’t succeed in her ruse. “And do you have children, Mrs. Banke?”
“A daughter. It’s somewhat on account of her I need the favor.”
Lanora wished she’d saved some of the bread. The woman would ask for money now, for her sick child, who may or may not exist. Likely, Mrs. Banke thought turning down the bread would make her plea seem more honest, but Lanora never dispensed coin. Only food, lessons or work that might be done to earn money.
She stopped and motioned for Mrs. Banke to step to the side of the roughly cobbled street, where they could speak without blocking passing traffic. “I don’t have any coin. I will return with more food in a few days.” The woman hardly had enough meat on her to last a few days, but Lanora hadn’t forced her to give up her loaf.
Mrs. Banke shook her head. “I’m not asking for a handout, Missus.” She sounded offended. “I need a favor.”
Lanora looked down to hide her surprise, suitably chastened. “What favor?”
“They say you can write, and read and all.”
“I can.”
“I got a story about Lord Lefthook for the paper. They pay for stories.”
Lanora’s brows shot up. “You met Lord Lefthook?”
The woman smiled, her head bobbing up and down in confirmation. “I did, and I want to sell my story to them papers, but I know better than to go there.” Her words bubbled out. “The boys, like the ones you left the bread for, they watch the papers. Anyone sees me in there, they’ll know I got paid. They’ll rob me. You’re always here helping people. I want you to get my money for me and no one the wiser.”
“So, you want me to take down your story and deliver it to the paper, then bring back your payment?” Lanora didn’t know if she was more amused or surprised. “Perhaps I could simply remember it for you?”
“You’ll do it, then?” Her eyes darted about again, but the few passers-by seemed disinterested. “I don’t know anyone else I can ask, you see, who won’t take any, or spread my name.”
What a sad thing that said about this woman’s life. “You trust me so much, when we’ve never met before?”
