The woman looked her up and down. “You bring all that food, and you’re finer than you pretend. I can hear it when you talk. You won’t be tempted by what the papers’ll pay me.”
Lanora frowned. Perhaps Grace was right. Mrs. Smith might not be the foolproof costume Lanora thought. “Did you really meet Lord Lefthook? Do you have proof?”
The woman pulled out a card and extended it to Lanora. It was a fine make. A gentleman’s card. On it were Lord Lefthook’s initials. She turned it over, but found nothing.
“You can take that to the papers as proof,” Mrs. Banke said. “They seen those before.”
“You don’t need it?” Lanora ran her fingers over the monogram.
“I already shown it to the doctor. He knows me now.”
Lanora tucked the card away. “Doctor?”
Mrs. Banke’s head bobbed again. “I was on my way to see a doctor, for my girl, when some fellow who weren’t no gentleman tried to take the coin I’d saved for the medicine. Lord Lefthook appears, and he lays the fellow out with one swing.”
To Lanora’s amusement, Mrs. Banke mimicked a punch, much as Grace had.
“But that’s not all.” Mrs. Banke lowered her voice. “He gave me that card and said I was to go to another doctor, one what’s much finer than I could ever afford, and Lord Lefthook has it all paid for, the visits and the medicine.” Her voice dropped to the barest whisper. “And the doctor gave me money so as I don’t have to work this week, so I can care for my girl.”
Lanora stared at Mrs. Banke. Lord Lefthook sounded too good to be true. “And they didn’t ask for anything, Lord Lefthook or the doctor?”
Mrs. Banke shook her head vigorously. “Not a thing, and Doctor Carter gave me tonic for my girl. She doesn’t like how it tastes, she says, but she’s doing better already.”
“I’m pleased to hear that,” Lanora said. “So, you would like me to trade your story to theTimesfor coin?”
“It would be a help to me, Missus, but don’t give them my name or nothing.”
“Certainly not.”
“And don’t give them the whole story till they pay. Those writers can be sneaky, I hear. Learning to write does that to a brain, makes it cunning.” She cast Lanora a startled look. “Meaning no offense, Missus.”
“I took none.” Lanora frowned. “If the boys watch the papers, as you said, and would rob you, won’t I endanger myself by going in and then returning here?”
Mrs. Banke chuckled. “Nah. No one would lay a finger on you, Missus. Half the borough would stone them on account of you bring us food. The other half would because robbing a gentlewoman will bring the Runners. No one wants that kind of trouble round here.”
Lanora nodded. Though she was mostly convinced, she would send Grace, who never set foot in the shadier parts of London. That should be safe enough for all concerned and Grace would be overjoyed to go to theTimeswith another story of how valiant Lefthook was. “I’ll bring the money when I hand out bread, but if I don’t see you, I’ll leave it with the doctor. You said his name is Carter?” She would also attempt to learn more about Lord Lefthook, who obviously associated with the man.
“Doctor Carter, on Amber.” Mrs. Banke attempted a curtsey. “Thank you, Missus.”
Lanora watched Mrs. Banke walk away, torn. She’d meant to hunt down the foreman for the new home for women again. She wished to know why work still hadn’t resumed.
If only Lanora could write to Mr. Darington, she might ask him about the work, instead of hunting for the foreman, but she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be proper, even if he was in Egypt. She’d considered writing his solicitor, for she knew the man’s name and address. She’d looked into him once, when her father’s old man of business passed and she was made to research another for him. Mr. Lethbridge was known to be good. Her father had refused him, though, saying Mr. Darington didn’t speak very highly of him. It was that disparagement that made her hesitate in approaching him.
She’d written to her father about the money again, but he’d never replied. He was like that with letters. When she was young, she’d written him weekly, and still often did. He rarely replied. She had no way of knowing if he had received her inquiry, all the way in Egypt, nor had she any reason to think he’d answer. Even if he did, with Egypt across all of Europe and two seas, getting news to and from there was slow.
Not that Mrs. Smith’s words to the foreman would amount to any change, even assuming she could locate the man. She’d already spoken to him several times, to no avail. Resolved, she altered her course. It wasn’t a long walk to Dr. Carter’s on Amber.
