Chapter Sixteen
Sabine followed Elisabeth Courtland down the great hall, chatting about her travel guides. She had clearly read all of Sabine’s books. It had been rude, Sabine now thought, not to make Elisabeth’s acquaintance before. Even if she and Stoker were estranged, Sabine might have just said hello. The woman wanted, clearly, to know her.
Sabine vowed to do better, no matter what happened. If the Courtlands would see her, she would make a point to be friendly after Stoker had gone.
“Here we are,” said Elisabeth, gesturing to an out-of-the-way door that led to a cramped stairwell. The sound of voices, clanging, wood chair legs on a stone floor rose from below.
“I assume Stoker has told you about my foundation?” Elisabeth asked, preceding her down the stairs.
Sabine nodded. “He said that you seek to rescue prostitutes and then retrain them for honest work?”
“Oh, very good, so you do know. And look at you, able to say the words without blushing. Stoker has done his duty by me. I never know if he spares us a thought when he is away.”
“Stoker regards you so very highly and he admires your work. You were one of the first people he mentioned when I—That is, when he regained consciousness.”
“He begged you not to bring him here, didn’t he?”
“Er...” Sabine missed a step. “I believe he did not wish for you to worry.”
“I worry anyway,” she said on a sigh.
They reached the bottom step and turned a corner into a bustling kitchen and scullery. Elisabeth led her to an unoccupied spot in a corner and began to point out servants diligently at work on tasks around the room, stirring pots, scrubbing dishes, kneading dough, carrying baskets heaped with vegetables. The fragrant smell of baking bread filled the room, and the idle chatter of the women rose and fell amid chopping knives and clanging copper pots.
“You put the rescued girls to work as your servants?” Sabine asked, trying not to sound a little alarmed.
Elisabeth laughed. “Ah, no. Not exactly. The brothel raids are not a means to staff my own kitchen, but wouldn’t that be handy? My foundation offices are across town, and it includes a boardinghouse where the girls live. They rest, receive medical care, and slowly, when they are ready, learn some trade. Some do become maids of kitchen staff—although rarely for me. Others become typists or store clerks. We do not encourage factory work, but sometimes the girls don’t feel suited for working in service. The foundation is staffed with caring older women who hold no contempt or judgment over the girls, but want only to help them discover some different life. I am there most days. It is a very demanding enterprise, but it gives my life meaning—that is, along with my family, of course.”
“Of course,” Sabine said. If Elisabeth Courtland meant to impress her, she had.
“The reason I am able to bring such direct help to so many girls,” Elisabeth went on, “is because Stoker came to me all those years ago and volunteered to begin physically rescuing young prostitutes from their situations. Without him, I would have been just another fund-raiser, raising money so that some man at a church or in government could decide how to spend it. He was... he was the perfect combination of daring, and capable, and willing to help. He was only a boy, but certainly no adult man would have consented to do it. And a boy of less courage or cunning would never have succeeded.” She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll never forget the first girls he brought to me. He and I had only discussedin theorywhat might be achieved by raiding a brothel. And then suddenly here he was, standing outside the kitchen door”—she pointed to the door across the room—“with three bedraggled women and a little girl.” She shook her head, remembering.
“I believe it is a cause about which he feels very strongly,” Sabine said, watching her face.
“Do you think so?” Elisabeth asked quietly. “Because I can never be certain. That is, I know he despises prostitution and I know he believes I’ve worked hard to improve many lives, but I never knew for certain whether he was fighting against prostitution or simply... fighting. Do you understand?”
Sabine smiled weakly and said nothing. She had no idea why Stoker fought. A man had tried to kill him a month ago, and he did not even seem particularly motivated to find him or seek vengeance.
Elisabeth said, “I worry that, at some point, a young man like Stoker might reach his capacity for witnessing so many horrible things. When he’s seen too much, he might simply stop believing that things can be made better. This has been my worry for Stoker, a loss of hope.”
Sabine spoke without thinking. “He has spoken to me about the horrible things he has known.”
“Has he? But does he seem to know the good he’s done? The lives he’s saved? I forced him to move on eventually. I made certain he obtained an education. He had honorable friends with ambition. Now I have teams of men who go into brothels on behalf of my foundation, but they follow his same basic methods. His legacy. Does he know this?”
“I—” Sabine began and then paused. She glanced at Elisabeth. “He is rather haunted, I believe, by his boyhood in general. I can say that you are the one bright spot in that part of his life. In every part.”
“You mean he struggles to... to—To do what? Sleep? Carry on? Find joy in the simple pleasures of life?”
“No—That is, I cannot say. Forgive me for speaking out of turn. He—”
“But it affects your marriage?” Elisabeth assumed. “I know the circumstances surrounding your wedding were... practical rather than romantic, but we were so encouraged by Joseph and Tessa’s relationship, and Cassin and Willow’s. And then to learn he’s been staying in your home for nearly a month? I was elated. I didn’t even care about his stab wound, as heartless as that sounds. I was so very grateful that he went toyouto heal.”
“Yes, well, he came to me for convenience’s sake in the beginning, I’m afraid,” said Sabine. “And then he was too very ill to move. And now? Now we have settled into something like a congenial sort of... accord.”
This was a lie,she thought.He remains so I will not prowl the countryside, hunting smugglers.
“But your feelings are... warm, I hope?” asked Elisabeth. “I have lain awake at night for years, hoping for a girl who could make him feel warm.”
“Oh, I’m certain there are plenty of girls with warm feelings for Jon Stoker.”
