The Governess Gambit - Erica Ridley Page 0,29

a distant relative. They’re able to pat themselves on the back for having done the ‘right’ thing.”

“We will do the right thing,” Chloe said fiercely.

It could have been any one of the Wynchester siblings in a contract with someone like Miss Spranklin instead of being adopted by Bean. They’d been loved and given every advantage, not browbeaten and exploited. Miss Spranklin wasn’t just stealing the wages from her charges—she was stealing years of their lives. Entire childhoods spent in servitude to a woman who only cared about herself.

“It’s worse,” Graham said. “The ‘employment’ she finds for them is at much lower wages than the usual rate. The new owners don’t know the lies Miss Spranklin has told, and the girls themselves don’t realize how deeply they’ve been taken advantage of, both at the school and in their new homes. And thanks to the deeply affordable wages, their new employers have no incentive to question their luck.”

“They know it’s unethical,” Chloe said slowly, “but they don’t know it’s illegal.”

“Is it illegal?” Tommy asked.

“I suppose the girls ‘agree’ to their new circumstance,” Graham said.

“Girls who cannot read and have no other options,” Chloe scoffed.

These were plights Parliament ought to pay attention to. Children and the poor. Instead, the House of Lords cared so little that their sessions could meet quorum with only three souls present.

Chloe clenched her teeth. “Teaching girls marketable skills is commendable. Exploiting them until they drop of exhaustion is contemptible. Sending paying parents false reports is unethical and illegal.” She smiled, triumphant. “It’s fraud.”

All she needed was proof from Miss Spranklin’s office. Once they could prove the letters home were forgeries and that girls Miss Spranklin was contractually obligated to educate were being sent to work with garnished wages instead, the Wynchesters wouldn’t just shut down the school.

They could send Miss Spranklin to gaol.

Chapter 12

“Ready to dance?” Chloe asked.

Tommy’s eyes glittered wickedly. “For Bean, I’m ready for anything.”

“Marjorie will be here soon.” She had gone for reinforcements an hour earlier. “Is everyone else in place?”

“Even the rats are ready,” Tommy promised.

Chloe grinned back at her. “Let the game begin.”

Throngs of parents, guardians, and hopefuls filled the entryway of the Spranklin Seminary for Girls. Even though the windows were open and the fire unlit in the salon hosting the musicale, the air was already overwarm from so many bodies in one place.

This plan had to work. Not just because it was their final opportunity. Construction laborers arrived in the morning, and Miss Spranklin was in the salon signing up new students to fill the additional rooms.

The plan had to work because if it didn’t... it would be Chloe’s fault. She was the one who had chosen her own family over the plight of these girls. It had only been for a week, but that was little comfort when their lives were hell, either stuck in the scullery of the school where they should be learning, or off indentured to a family without ever seeing a farthing of their wages.

She and Tommy stood at the edge of the chaos, in the empty corridor that led to the wards and Miss Spranklin’s private office. Tommy, dressed as dancing-master Mr. Jones, was part of the entertainment.

Miss Spranklin would not step from center stage until the painstakingly orchestrated reel was danced and the last melody was played.

Unfortunately, given that only the elder girls could play anything at all, this did not afford the Wynchesters as much time as they might have liked. Rehearsals had taken less than ninety minutes. Chloe assumed Miss Spranklin would wax poetic between performances, but anything could go wrong, and there was no time to waste.

“If Miss Spranklin attempts to leave the stage, distract her,” Chloe told Tommy. “If you cannot stop her for any reason, make the sign and Jacob will take action.”

Tommy nodded. “And Graham?”

“He’s in place.”

“What about the...” Tommy’s jaw slackened as she stared at something down the corridor over Chloe’s shoulder. Tommy’s next words were a breathless whisper. “Who is that?”

Chloe turned to look.

Tommy grabbed Chloe’s arm before she could turn about.

“Don’t look,” Tommy hissed, “or she’ll know we’re talking about her.”

“I don’t even know who we’re talking about.” Chloe tightened her hold on her basket. “Describe, please.”

Tommy’s gaze softened. “She looks like a literal angel. Golden hair in perfect ringlets... more lace than I’ve ever seen anyone wear in my life... plump, rosy cheeks...”

“Tommy. This is not the time for a tendre. We have orphans to save.” Chloe straightened her sister’s cravat. “You can talk