“I would think you’d be as concerned as I am to learn that a child was left to fend for himself so far from home.”
“Perhaps the boy ran away. One bad outcome doesn’t mean the program isn’t working.”
Thomas stilled. That was what Mr. Schmidt had been told—that Peter had run away. He studied the manager more closely, wondering if he’d been involved. Someone had lied when the family had left and recorded that all five had departed. “Can you tell me who noted the family’s departure in the ledger?” Thomas pointed toward the office.
Mr. Harris studied Thomas for a long moment as if uncertain how to respond. “We don’t keep a record of that.”
“Surely you can tell whose writing it was.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Whoever it was lied. Five Schmidts entered the workhouse but only four left that day.”
“Nothing more than a simple mistake. Such things happen. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“This isn’t over,” Thomas warned then took his leave, far from satisfied.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Frances told Phoebe as they walked up the steps of Lady Fairbridge’s residence that afternoon. The lady was the founder of the training plan for the workhouse.
“Of course. I wanted another update on how the plans for training are progressing anyway.” Phoebe tilted her head as she studied Frances. “You don’t look happy. Is something amiss?” Her eyes widened in alarm. “What happened with the boy’s parents? Is there a problem?”
“I’m pleased to share that they’ve been reunited.” That brought a smile to Frances and eased the concern she hadn’t been able to dismiss since Thomas had called the previous day. “I will send a note to the league members to tell them the good news. From what Thomas told me, they were overjoyed to see one another. The moment must’ve been very touching.”
“How wonderful. I’m so relieved.” Phoebe lifted a brow. “Mr. Sinclair called to advise you of what occurred?”
“Yes.” Frances’s face heated at the look her friend gave her. “So kind of him to realize that I was anxious to know.”
“I have to wonder if there is more to his visit than that,” Phoebe gently suggested.
Frances offered a one-shouldered shrug. “I couldn’t say.”
She wasn’t about to admit how much she wished that was true. Thomas had taken his leave soon after her mother joined them. It was clear his thoughts were still on Peter and his family. That was to be expected and was no reason for disappointment. At least, that was what she told herself.
Yet still, her concern held tight. So much so that she’d sent a message to Phoebe to see if they could call on Lady Fairbridge to request an update on the training. She wanted the information in case she was asked at the ball. Sharing their progress might encourage additional donations to the cause. Surely, hearing how the training was progressing would ease her disquiet.
“Hmm. Perhaps it’s time to make your feelings clear when you next see him. You deserve happiness, and this could be your chance to claim it.”
That Phoebe noticed how much Frances cared for Thomas should’ve alarmed her. The fact that it didn’t proved how distracted she was. Thinking about telling Thomas how she felt only made her more anxious.
Rather than respond, Frances knocked on the door, hesitant to confess just how much she cared for Thomas for fear it would bring an end to what was deepening between them.
Within a few minutes, they were seated in the lady’s lovely burgundy and gold drawing room. The elegant décor struck Frances as odd given the lady’s determination to help the poor. The lady herself, who looked to be in her fifties, was equally elegant in a deep blue day dress with lace trim.
“I’m so pleased with what we’ve accomplished thus far,” Lady Fairbridge said after greeting them. “As I mentioned to Lady Bolton the other day, many of the volunteers are in place and training has commenced for the women. The seamstress and the lacemaker are distraught by the lack of proper light but are proceeding as best they can.”
“I hope the workhouse is willing to help with those issues once they see how well the plan is working,” Phoebe said.
The lady pursed her lips. “I find that doubtful. It is surprising how uncooperative some of the administrators are.”
“Oh? Has that proven true in other situations as well?” Frances asked.
“There have been a few issues with the program that relocates children to the British Colonies and America.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Frances asked, hardly able to believe her ears. Yet it sounded familiar.
“It’s mostly for boys, of course,” the lady continued. “But girls are sent abroad as well. Families are eager to adopt. Relocating them helps not only the labor shortages in those areas but reduces vagrancy here.”
And sending children was the solution? Frances could hardly believe it.
