“Who do you see outside, Uncle?”
Ian glanced down. Ivy was watching him with a look of—
What had Miss Trelayne called it?
Anticipatory fear.
“No one is outside, Ivy. I’m merely woolgathering. Staring mindlessly into the street.”
“It’s not safe?” Ivy guessed. She rose up a little to peek out the window.
“Oh no, it’s perfectly safe. Bond Street is just through those buildings and round the cornerthere...” he pointed, “...and it will be bustling with fine ladies and gentlemen dandies at this hour. Entirely safe, I assure you.”
“But you hate it,” she guessed.
This suggestion gave him pause; he wondered what his expression must show. “No, Ivy,” he admitted, “I don’t hate it. I find shopping for luxury trinkets to be tedious, perhaps—”
“But not dresses?”
“Well, I’ve come along today to support you girls. It’s hardly luxury to replace your current wardrobe, if you don’t mind me saying. Necessity, more like. If you see me frowning, it’s due to theinhabitantsof Bond Street, not the shopping—the ladies and dandies I mentioned.”
“Why?” Ivy asked.
Ian replaced his cup. Miss Trelayne felt the girls were owed honesty, but there was honesty and then there was simply not wanting to talk about it.
Then again, this was the most conversation he’d had from Ivy since the girls had come to Avenelle.
“Well,” he began, “three years ago, when you were...”
“With T.O.E.,” she supplied.
“Right. When you were with T.O.E. I was in the midstof a fight between my tenants, the town counsel, and the owner of a mill in our village.”
“Was the mill so very sinful? Reverend Sagg is very much opposed to mills.”
“Actually I was in favor of the millandthe tenants. The mill provided a great many jobs for some villagers. Others were dedicated craftsmen who felt the mills were destroying their livelihood. I wanted to find a way for both sides to succeed. I had mediated a sort of truce. But ultimately that truce fell through, and the tenants marched on the town and incited a riot. There was a terrible night of fighting and violence. A man was killed and many others were injured.”
“Right here in Bean Street,” she surmised.
“BondStreet,” he corrected. “No. The tragedy happened very near Avenelle, actually, in Dorset. But it was such a terrible disaster that the newspapers reported it here in London, and Londoners, especially the people who frequent places like Bond Street, wanted my head.”
“Wanted your head?”
“They wanted to blame me.” He made a slicing gesture at his neck.
Ivy’s look of anticipatory fear returned. “But why? If you only wanted what was best for everyone?”
“The Londoners were angry because I’d indulged the craftsmen for so many months. I was only trying to understand their point of view, to listen and possibly find a compromise, but many people in government—many other landowners—saw what I was doing ascollusion. Do you know what that means?”
Ivy shook her head.
“The other dukes and earls and such thought I betrayed all landowners by stirring up violence and sedition among the tenants.”
“And they wanted you to go to jail for it?” she guessed.
“Nearly,” he said. “A tribunal of judges found me innocent of blame. However, in the court of public opinion—meaning what most people thought and said about me—I was entirelyto blame. As a result, there are many places in the city that I’m not welcomed, at least not without accusations and scorn. Name-calling.Ill will.Bond Street is likely one of them.”
“Oh, so you arehiding?” she surmised.
