And this family was one of the lucky ones, having a separate room for sleeping, a sink with running water, if it did, in fact, run from the tap, and apparently just one family for two rooms. These were luxuries few could afford. In a heartbeat, he could see why Edward had done what he’d done.
“Go on, you two,” Mrs. Percy said, sending her littles ones into the bedroom. “Play quietly and don’t come out until I tell you.”
Charles wondered what they had to play with and tried to swallow the lump from his throat. It was one thing to be in Parliament, privy to reports concerning the poor. It was another to know someone like Edward, and go into his home.
“We’re hungry,” said the one called Albert, probably named for the Prince Consort as so many young boys had been over the past two decades since his death.
Not surprisingly, Charlotte dug in her purse for a bag of sweets, drew it out and handed the entire thing over to Edward to dole out to his younger siblings.
“I’m sorry. I should have asked first,” she said when she noticed Mrs. Percy staring.
“No, it’s not that,” their mother said. “But I could have sold those and had enough to buy bread for a week.”
Charlotte’s cheeks turned pink, and again, she muttered, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right. They haven’t tasted any of it before, except what Edward bought at Easter.” She set down a crocheted bag on the table, and Charles could see through the netting it had potatoes and onions in it. And hopefully something fortifying from the butcher’s shop wrapped in the white paper he could see. He wondered if she ever bought watercress.
Edward took his younger brother and sister into the next room, and the grown-ups, waiting in silence for his return, could hear the squeals of joy from the littlest Percys. By the look on Charlotte’s face, she wished she had more to give them.
“Would you care to sit?” Mrs. Percy asked. “I can’t offer tea as we ran out, but you don’t have to stand like you’re waiting for the omnibus.”
So as not to offend, Charles pulled out a chair for Charlotte, which she graciously took, then he went to do the same for Mrs. Percy, but she looked affronted. He waited for her to sit. When she didn’t but only stared at him, hard, against all common courtesy, he finally took a seat.
Now what?
Thankfully, Edward returned and took the chair across from Charlotte, so the explanations could commence. “I’m sorry, miss, I truly am,” he began.
“Don’t say nothing,” his mother warned him.
“Mrs. Percy,” Charles began, “we are not the police, but we do already know that Edward stole sweets from Miss Rare-Foure and turned them over to you. There’s no point denying the obvious.”
“I didn’t steal from Miss Rare-Foure,” Edward protested. “I ... I just kept some confectionery back from my deliveries. But I gave youallthe money,” he said looking at Charlotte. “I didn’t keep a ha’penny nor a farthing.”
“So you stole from the hotels and restaurants,” Charles said, thinking Charlotte might have too soft of a heart to say the obvious.
“Yes, sir,” Edward agreed, “but ... not money. I would never steal money.”
Charlotte sighed. “Edward, in a way, you did. I cannot get some of those contracts back, so that money is gone from the shop. And it was revenue I was counting upon.”
Edward hung his head. His mother had said nothing, simply looking between her two unexpected guests and her son. Now, she sat down heavily in the last chair and fixed Charlotte with a desperate stare.
“Are you pressing charges against my son?” she demanded.
Charles thought she was going to be belligerent, but her voice broke on the last word. Then Mrs. Percy added, “Remember, he’s done good by you, miss, working like someone twice his age. I know how dependable my boy is.” Her words ended on a quiver of emotion.
“No,” Charlotte said without hesitation. “I am not going to press charges againsthim.”
“Oh!” the woman said, sitting back. “Againstme, then? You’d rip a mother away from her three children? I work hard as a shirt-finisher for 3 shillings a week. If I could afford a machine,” she trailed off sounding more desperate. “But you can’t send me to Newgate.”
Edward jumped to her defense. “No, Mum, Miss Charlotte never would.”
“He’s right,” Charlotte assured the woman.
Charles felt the whole scene was like something from a Dickens’ novel. Too clichéd by far, too trite, and far too sad when it happened to be real life.
“Then why did you come here?” Mrs. Percy demanded.
“Edward didn’t show up for work, and neither did Mr. Tufts,” Charlotte pointed out.
