How could she believe she was worthy of love after all the years of longing for someone to value her for who she truly was? To love her for herself, not her father’s wealth.
It seemed that the red ribbon her father had wrapped around her had served its purpose. He’d bought her a suitor just in time for Christmas.
When he had tried to speak with her after Thomas left, she pleaded a headache and went to her room. In truth, she was angry with him for his reaction to Thomas’s request and for his words, which had been hurtful. Clearly, her own father didn’t think she was enough either.
However, she refused to wallow in self-pity. She had work to do. Rather than remaining in her room, she sent a message to Phoebe that morning to request an emergency meeting of the league. She wanted to bring the information they’d learned before the group to determine whether they should proceed with the ball.
Of course, Phoebe already knew what Frances did, but now that her friend had time to think about it and discuss the concerns with Bolton, her idea about what to do might have changed.
Phoebe sent a reply agreeing to her request, which made Frances fear that she had the same misgivings Frances did and the ball would have to be cancelled.
She felt ill at the thought. But it was her upset over Thomas that weighed heavily on her. And she had no idea what to do about it.
With her emotions so unsettled, she didn’t know the best way to proceed. It would be best if the league decided as a group whether to hold the ball. So she sent messages to the league members, asking them to meet at the lending library that afternoon.
Frances arrived early and took a seat at their usual table, her maid waiting by the door. The library had nearly a dozen people inside and another group of ladies at a table across the room. Normally, she adored the quiet energy of the place but now she wished no one was there.
Before long, Harriet and Tibby arrived with Eliza, Winifred, and Millicent directly behind them. Before they’d finished greeting one another, Rebecca and Phoebe came in as well.
“I can see something terrible has occurred,” Tibby said to Frances as the ladies settled around the table. “What is it?”
Frances glanced at Phoebe, who gestured for her to proceed. She quietly explained the situation about the charity shipping children abroad and its connection to Peter then waited to see what the others thought.
“I do remember mention of that project,” Harriet said. “But none of us liked the idea of separating families. That was why we decided to focus on the training. We couldn’t have guessed they might be doing anything illegal.”
“You’re right,” Rebecca agreed. “We couldn’t have. Besides, if someone in the workhouse chose to partake in the training, they could very well support themselves and not have to consider sending away a child.”
“Exactly.” Winifred looked between Frances and Phoebe. “Do we know for certain that shipping the children without permission is some sort of scheme?”
“No.” Phoebe waited to see if Frances wanted to add to that, but she knew nothing further and shook her head, so Phoebe continued. “We only know the plan failed one boy. Luckily, Mr. Sinclair brought him back to London, and as you know, the family has been reunited.” Phoebe looked at Frances. “Did you have a chance to tell Mr. Sinclair what we learned?”
“Yes. He wants to speak with the person in charge of the plan to learn more.”
“Of course.” Phoebe nodded. “Further investigation is warranted. I spoke with Anthony, and he agrees. But neither of us thinks we should cancel the ball.”
“What of you, Frances?” Tibby asked. “What do you think?”
Frances hesitated. “I don’t know.” She looked around the table, uncertainty holding her tight. “I want to do what is right. If the workhouse is involved in selling children, we can’t support them. They must be stopped.”
“But we don’t know for sure,” Harriet said. “What did Mr. Sinclair think? Does he want us to cancel the ball?”
“Not based on the information we have thus far.”
Rebecca heaved a sigh. “I do realize this is a serious matter. And if someone is selling children, they must be brought to justice. But I think—” Her voice broke off as she glanced out the window, her face going pale and her eyes wide with shock.
“Rebecca?” Harriet said as they all followed her gaze to see what had caught her notice.
Frances watched the people walking past, noting a tall, broad-shouldered man in a black wool coat with a burgundy scarf who paused before the library to look at the books displayed in the window.
A glance at Rebecca showed he was the one who held her attention. Frances looked back at the man, who appeared to be about their age with chiseled features and a grim countenance as if he rarely bothered to smile. But that didn’t detract from his handsomeness. His face was bronzed from the sun and the size of him brought to mind a knight of old, more than capable of rescuing a damsel in distress.
It seemed clear that Rebecca knew him and wasn’t pleased to see him. Perhaps horrified would be a more apt description.
“Are you all right, Rebecca?” Tibby asked with a touch on the widow’s arm.
Rebecca shivered and jerked her gaze to Tibby, then briefly closed her eyes as if to erase the man from her thoughts. “Yes. Of course. I thought I saw someone I once knew.” She looked out the window again, but it now stood empty. The sight had her drawing a deep breath, whether in relief or to gather her courage, Frances wasn’t sure.
“As I was saying,” Rebecca continued, “I think it would be a mistake to dismiss the good the training will do.”
