"Don't know what he thinks. Crawley and his family have vanished, bag, baggage, and livestock. I talked to some of the neighbors. Seems the Crawleys just up and left a few weeks ago. Didn't say where they were going or when they'd get back."
Weldon's face twisted into a scowl as he considered the implications. "Did Crawley sell the farm to someone else?"
"Doesn't seem to have."
Weldon bit his lower lip, thinking there was something unnatural about the business. Crawley certainly didn't have the money to go off and start again elsewhere. Perhaps the farmer had panicked and run?
After a minute's thought, he shrugged; Crawley's disappearance wouldn't make any difference to the railway. "We'll go ahead and start laying rail across the farm anyhow. Crawley isn't around to object, and no one else will know that we haven't gotten the correct authorizations. If he comes back, we make him sign, only maybe then he won't get any money at all for the privilege of being part of the L & S route."
Dismissing Kane, he returned to work. Crawley's cowardly flight was a minor nuisance, no more.
Chapter 17
Mikahl had left early to go into London on business, so Sara slept late, then rose for a leisurely bath. Since he would be gone all day, she was going to ride to Chapelgate and lunch with her cousin. After a fortnight of honeymoon solitude, she supposed that it was time to remember that the rest of the world existed. Then, after Mikahl had been gone for a whole ten hours, she would have the pleasure of welcoming him home.
Sara knew she had an absurd, dreamy smile on her face, but didn't care. She was hopelessly, passionately in love, and marriage was wonderful.
Admittedly there were many things she didn't know about her husband, and he had never said that he loved her. But deeds were more important than words, and his actions could not have been more tender or loving. Mikahl liked to touch, and did so with a freedom seldom seen in an Englishman. In spite of her occasional blushes, Sara loved his demonstrative nature and responded like a flower opening to the sun.
Though she knew that her present joy could not continue forever, she refused to worry about that. No matter how much pain her marriage might bring in the future, this fortnight of loving was worth any price she might have to pay. There should still be weeks or months of happiness to come; if she was very lucky, years.
After her bath, Sara summoned Jenny to help her dress. As the maid braided her hair, Sara asked, "Now that you've had a chance to settle in, do you still like Sulgrave?"
"It's unholy quiet after London," the girl observed, "but the country is pretty, and the other servants couldn't be nicer."
Sara smiled. "We'll be going to London again in a few days. That should save you from falling into a bored melancholy."
"Very good, my lady," Jenny said demurely, her deft fingers coiling one of the braids over her mistress's left ear.
As Sara watched Jenny's elfin face, she could not help but think of the girl's sordid past. Years in a brothel, Mikahl had said.
Sara had been shocked at the idea; now that she understood the profound intimacy of the marriage bed, she was even more shocked. The thought of strangers violating one's body, forcing what should be sacred, was appalling. If anything ever happened to Mikahl, Sara knew that she would never be able to share such intimacy with another man.
Impulsively speaking her thoughts, Sara asked, "Jenny, how did you survive those years in a brothel with your humor and sanity intact?"
Jenny's hand jerked, and the hairpins she had been holding dropped from her hand and skittered over Sara's shoulder to the floor. Dismayed, Sara turned swiftly and said, "Jenny, forgive me, I had no right to ask such a thing. I said when I hired you that you need never speak of the past again. Please forget that I ever asked about it."
The maid knelt on the floor to pick up the hairpins. When she straightened, she said in a voice that was almost normal, "It's not so bad that I can't talk about it, Lady Sara. I was mostly surprised that you asked."
Her movements precise, Jenny wound the other plait over Sara's right ear and pinned it in place. "I suppose I survived because in the East End, life is always hard. If you expect the worst, you're never disappointed," she said reflectively. "Having my pa sell me to a brothel was bad, but worse things happened to some of the other girls I grew up with.
"The brothel was hardest for girls who'd been raised decent. Some went kind of crazy when they found out what was going to be done to them." Jenny's face darkened. "The walls were thick, but not thick enough. Of course, a lot of those girls were there just one night because it was a virgin house. For those of us who were there longer—well, you can get used to almost anything."
"What is a virgin house?" Sara asked, having a horrible feeling that she could guess.
The girl frowned. "This isn't a subject for a lady's ears. The prince won't like that I'm talking to you about such things."
"Dear God, Jenny, how can something that you had to live be too harsh for my delicate ears to hear?" Sara felt the same cold fury as when she had discovered that the orphanage children were being abused by those who should protect them. "Anyone born with fortune or influence has an obligation to use it to try to help others. I was active with charitable work in Haddonfield, and I intend to do the same here. While I don't know if I can do anything about the evils you suffered, if I am ignorant, I will not even be able to try."
Sara gestured for the maid to sit down. "If you can bear to talk about it, I want to know. Then perhaps someday I might be able to do some good."
After a moment of hesitation, Jenny sat down and summarized the operation of Mrs. Kent's house. The account turned Sara's stomach, but she listened with grim determination. At the end, she exclaimed passionately, "What kind of men can behave so to innocent girls?"
Jenny gave a cynical smile. "All kinds. I'll bet every penny I have, some of those fancy society gents who kiss your hand at balls are customers of Mrs. Kent's. Girls, boys, any ages and combinations that a man is willing to pay for."
"Boys?" Sara asked, not understanding what the maid meant.
Jenny looked uncomfortable. "You really don't want to know that, my lady. It's downright unnatural."
Sara's lips thinned. Turning away from unpleasant facts seemed a betrayal of innocent victims. "Tell me."
Jenny complied, her blunt words describing in detail what a grown man might do to a little boy.
Sara's hands clenched so tightly that her nails left deep crescents in her palms. When the maid was finished, Sara said in a strained voice, "How can such wickedness exist so flagrantly in the heart of the greatest city in the world?"
Though Sara's words had been more for herself than her maid, Jenny replied bitterly, "Laws are made by those with power, my lady. How many of those with power really care what happens to the poor? They're the wolves, and folks like me are the sheep."
Sara sighed. "You've learned hard wisdom, Jenny. But there are a few people with power who care about those less fortunate. I'm going to make it my business to find out who does care, and to contribute what I can."
The maid looked uneasy. "You won't be telling the prince what I said? He'd be powerful irritated with me.
"No, I won't tell him." Sara gave a twisted smile. "He's a man of the world. I doubt there's anything either you or I could say about wickedness that would surprise him."
And like most men, he probably accepted that evil would always be present, and that there was no point in wasting time fighting it. Who was she, who had been pampered all her life, to criticize Mikahl for not being outraged when he had had so much to endure? It was hardly surprising if his sensibilities had been blunted.
As Jenny completed Sara's toilette, Sara thought about what she had learned this morning. While she would have liked to ask Mikahl if anything could be alone to close Mrs. Kent's house, she did not want to bring his wrath on Jenny. Better to wait and learn more about the subject before she talked to her husband.
Sara knew she could not save the world. There h
ad always been prostitutes, and perhaps there always would be. But raping helpless children was not simple prostitution. It was an unspeakable crime, and Sara would do what she could to stop it.
* * *
As Sara made her way downstairs after dressing, the Sulgrave butler heard her footsteps and came out into lie hall. Gates was a long-time Haddonfield employee who had asked permission to accompany Sara to her new home. Since Mikahl was willing, Sara had been grateful to accept Gates's offer.
"Good morning, my lady," the butler said with a deep bow. "Cook wishes to know what time to serve dinner tonight."
"Probably about eight o'clock, but tell her to prepare something that won't be injured by reheating in case my husband returns later than he planned." Sara drew her riding gloves on as she stood on the bottom step. "You've done a wonderful job since your arrival, Gates. My husband said just yesterday that the household is running like a fine clock."
The butler gave a small, satisfied smile. "A pleasure to be of service. It's a small return for what the St. James family and Prince Peregrine have done for me.
Mildly curious, Sara said, "You have done as much for the St. Jameses as we have done for you, but what has my husband done? You've only just met him."
"I expect you know what it is like in the servants' hall, my lady. There was much discussion about the prince below stairs when it was announced that you were marrying him." Gates's smile became downright smug. "Someone had learned that he is a major shareholder in the new L & S Railway. I decided that if the company was good enough for Lady Sara's husband, it was good enough for me. So I invested my savings in the stock."
Sara frowned. "My husband invests in many businesses and does not expect them all to be successful. I hate to think that your savings might be jeopardized if the L & S doesn't do well."
"But it's doing splendidly," he assured her. "The value of the stock I bought has already gone up by almost half."
"I don't know anything about finance," Sara said dryly, "but surely a stock that goes up that quickly can go down just as fast. Perhaps you should sell now and take your profit."
"It will only go higher, my lady. Railroads are the way of the future." He looked vastly pleased with himself. "When I retire from service, the L & S will buy me a nice little hostelry in a south-coast town where the wind is easier on old bones."
One of the parlor maids entered the hall and Gates immediately returned to his impassive manner. An upper servant might talk to his mistress with some freedom, but never in the presence of his inferiors.
Sara walked to the stables, thinking that the day had certainly begun rather strangely. But her good mood was restored by the ride along the Downs to Chapelgate. She was mounted on a superb, sweet-tempered sorrel mare that her husband had given her as a wedding gift, and the day was glorious, with the tang of coming autumn. Though the world was an imperfect place, her particular corner of it could not be better.
Ross strolled down the front steps to greet her when she rode up to Chapelgate. "Bless you, Sara. You have arrived just in time to save me from deciding whether I must throw out all of the last chapter.''
She rolled her eyes in mock horror. "What, and deprive the world of some of your golden prose?"
"I suspect there is more dross than gold in this case." Her cousin raised his arms, and Sara slid down into them, then handed the mare's reins to the groom who had accompanied her.
The cousins climbed the steps together, Ross's arm around Sara's shoulder. "I don't have to ask what you think of marriage—I can see canary feathers all around you."
Sara laughed. "Marriage is wonderful," she agreed, unable to prevent a blushing smile from spreading over tier face.
He glanced down, his brown eyes serious. "No regrets?"
"No regrets," she replied. "Mikahl may be complicated and mysterious, but he could not treat me any better than he does."
Her cousin sighed. "Honeymoons don't last forever."
"Of course not," she agreed. "But how many people ever know two weeks of perfect happiness? No matter what happens in the future, I will always have that." She gave him a shrewd glance. "Because you introduced him to me, you feel responsible for whether or not I'm happy. But you must stop worrying—for letter or worse, the future is for me and Mikahl to work out. If I end up miserable, it won't be your fault."
"Wise words, but impossible to follow," Ross said with amusement as he opened the door. "You'll just lave to stay happy to spare me from guilt."
Sara stepped into the hall and removed her veiled riding hat. "We're going up to London in a few days. The Little Season is starting, and I want to show my glorious husband off."
Ross grinned. "Does that mean that Mother has prevailed on you to go to Cousin Leticia's ball?"
"That's part of the reason," Sara admitted as she landed her hat and riding crop to the butler. "I haven't seen Letty in donkey's years, but since she's launching her daughter, I suppose I should be present. Exactly the sort of affair I hate. Very large, very noisy, very boring." She smiled again. "Mikahl says that I have more cousins than anyone he's ever met, but he is very amiable about escorting me to such functions. Besides, he has business in town, I want to buy some furnishings for the house, Father wants Mikahl to be presented at court, and there are other parties. We'll probably stay for a fortnight or so. Are you going to Letty's ball also?"
When Ross gave an exaggerated shudder, Sara said, "Foolish question. As if anyone could withstand Aunt Marguerite."
"Mother keeps muttering that I am turning into a hermit, and that it is her duty to drag me into society regularly. I'm beginning to think it's time to take another trip. Constantinople first, then perhaps down through the Levant."
Sara repressed a twinge. Exploration of the world's wilder places was a dangerous business. But she understood her cousin's need to roam, and she would not try to stop him any more than his parents did. Those who loved Ross knew that an empty society life in England would soon drive him mad.
First Jenny, then Gates, and now Ross. As Sara led the way into the drawing room, she realized that her honeymoon was over. She and Mikahl might enjoy each other just as much tonight as on the previous nights, but they were part of the world again.
* * *
Peregrine dropped his hat negligently on a table when he entered Slade's office, but his offhand manner was pure fiction. Inside, he vibrated with excitement. "Good morning, Benjamin. I was delighted to hear that the die has been cast. How is the City reacting to news of the volley of lawsuits that hit the L & S Railway yesterday?"
"The stock lost half its value this morning, and it's dropping like a stone." Slade pushed his chair back and laced his fingers across his midriff. "Investors would have been able to take the compensation suit calmly, and perhaps even the injunction barring construction over Crawley's land. But the charges of harassment of landowners and manslaughter in the death of Jimmy Crawley have terrified them. The only thing worse would have been if there had been enough evidence to have Weldon arrested outright."
"Splendid." Peregrine sat down and crossed his legs casually. "Absolutely splendid."
"That is a downright unnatural attitude for a man who has just lost twenty thousand pounds and stands to lose considerably more," Slade complained.
"The satisfaction it brings me is cheap at the price. Are there any other developments?"
"I understand that Hammersley's bank was about to lend Weldon enough money to pay off the notes you hold, but with the decline in value of the railway stock, I'd be surprised if the bank doesn't withdraw." The lawyer pursed his lips thoughtfully. "If he wants to avoid default, he will have to go either to a friend or the moneylenders."
"Or perhaps Weldon may blackmail someone who has been particularly indiscreet in one of his whorehouses," Peregrine said cynically.
"Does the idea of that bother you?" Slade asked. "To think that some poor devil might be crucified because of the financial pressure you're putting on Weldon?"
"A man sh
ould be willing to live by his deeds," Peregrine said, unimpressed. "Only a scoundrel or a hypocrite can be blackmailed. Perhaps Weldon's death struggles will flush another few scoundrels from the shrubbery."
The lawyer toyed with his pen. "You've got Weldon where you want him. You've broken up his betrothal and married the woman who would have been his wife, destroyed his hopes of a title, and pushed him over the financial brink. But have you thought about the consequences if he learns that you are behind his troubles? He could be a very dangerous man."
"I expect him to learn that," Peregrine said cordially. "Indeed, I want him to know. Vengeance would be less satisfying if it were blind."
The lawyer looked up sharply. "That's a cavalier attitude. What if he strikes back at you through Lady Sara?"
"Do you think I cannot protect my wife?" Peregrine said, his voice going ice-cold.
"Do you mean to keep her prisoner? In London particularly, anyone can be at risk from a marksman with a good rifle," Slade pointed out, his voice equally cold. "Can you protect her without her discovering some of the truth, or don't you care if she learns of your feud?" He scowled. "For that matter, she has already been an unwitting pawn in this lethal little game of yours. Do you really care if she becomes an innocent victim?"
Pure rage swept through Peregrine. "You go too far, Slade," he said furiously, slamming his palm down on the lawyer's desk. "What's the matter, do you fear for your own precious hide?"
"Some," the lawyer said, refusing to be intimidated. "I have covered my tracks as well as possible, working through a chain of intermediaries, but a determined investigator could find me. And through me, you."
Slade pushed back his chair and tossed his pen on the desk, where it landed with a flat rattle. "You saved me from disaster in India, Mikahl, and in return I've served you to the best of my abilities. But I'm a lawyer, not a soldier, and frankly I have no great desire to be a martyr to your obsession. What about members of your household, like Jenny Miller? Or friends of yours, like Lord Ross Carlisle? Or your wife's father? Can you protect them all?"