“My business is twofold. I wanted to tell your father that I think the brass fittings on the newly installed gas lamps failed. With the dust of the wool and cotton in the air, a leak from a lamp could have caused the explosion.”
“Jordan’s lamps.” Father took a moment and forced his lips to move without a slur. It was difficult with the burns to his face. “He put in cheap ones.”
Ester headed to Papa’s desk. “Mr. Phineas, are you sure? That’s a mighty accusation. Your paper isn’t known to get things right.”
“Ma’am, I’ve been hunting the manufacturer, talking to the installers. I’m very sure. Jordan’s gas lighting was at fault.”
“Jordan.” Papa fisted his hand.
Ester put her palm on her father’s and squeezed. “Thank you, Mr. Phineas. My father prides himself on being good to his workers, not putting them in danger. This is good news, but what was the second thing?”
The reporter reached to the floor and lifted her bag, the one she’d left at Bex’s, and a pretty parcel with a big yellow bow. “Bex wanted me to give these to you.”
“Why didn’t he come himself?”
“He’s welcome,” Papa said the words loud and clear. “The boy is.”
Ester squeezed her father’s hand again. Bex was welcome, welcome to everything, including her heart. She was tired of being afraid.
Phineas sighed. “He doesn’t want to drag the Croomes into his fight. Some nasty reporter might follow him.”
“He doesn’t have to fight alone.” The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop. Then she raised her head and let her protective nature reign. “Yes, he doesn’t have to fight alone, at all.”
“Maybe you should tell him before he leaves.”
“What?” Ester covered her mouth for a moment. “Bex is going away?”
“Yes, but he might be at the White Horse Cellar tonight. There’s another rally for abolition. Many people want him there, including Wilberforce. I hope he shows and defends himself.”
Ester clutched the box to her chest. “Mr. Phineas, tell him he should fight. That he’s a good man.”
“My voice isn’t the one he needs to hear. You’ve been to the Cellar. You know how loud it is in there. Those that want hate or are resistant to change—their voices are always loud.”
“And voices trapped by fear will never be heard.” Ester felt ashamed and scared and more in want of Bex’s embrace than ever.
Phineas went to the door. “Happy Birthday, Mrs. Bex.” The man tipped his hat and left.
“Ester.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Her father’s upper lip went up and nothing came out for a few seconds. “Go to Bex. He made…mistakes. Still worthy of re-redempt—”
“Redemption?” Ester folded her arms about Papa. “I need to ask you something. You don’t have to answer. I know it’s not my business.”
Papa nodded.
“Why a mistress? We’d just moved to Nineteen Fournier. I thought we were all so happy.”
Her father looked down. “Forgot what made us work. Success can…can make you forget…struggle.”
She swallowed hard and witnessed a vulnerability she’d never seen in her big, tall hero. “Why did you keep the letters? If you had destroyed them, I’d never have known. Mama wouldn’t have read them.”
“I knew.” His shaky hand pointed to his forehead. “Up here. Needed reminder of the trust I broke. Mama, she…don’t just trust any…anyone.”
Ester swiped at the tears that came from his eyes. The fragility of love was so evident, so thick on his bruised lips. “Thank you for telling me, Papa. I’m so sorry for how I treated you.”
He worked his mouth and said, “Sorry, for disapp…pointing.” He held out his arms and she fell into them. She needed Papa’s arms. She needed him.
