price.”
“No, thank you,” Bean lifted a palm. “If you’ll excuse us, Your Grace?”
“One hundred pounds,” said the duke. “That’s my final offer.”
“If we wanted more art in our parlor,” said Elizabeth, “Marjorie could paint it. Or bring something home from all of those exhibitions she goes to.” Elizabeth turned in her seat so that Marjorie could see her face. “Who will we see next Wednesday?”
“Albus Roth,” Marjorie said loudly.
The duke tucked his painting back under his arm. “Albus Roth?”
“We’re all curious,” Chloe explained. “At the time Roth painted Puck & Family—I mean, Robin Goodfellow—he wasn’t well known, but he’s become popular in recent years, and is to have his first London exhibition next week.”
“We should take Puck & Family with us,” Jacob teased Marjorie. “Have it signed twice.”
“Sell it to me,” the duke demanded. “I want it back.”
Every face in the parlor swung to him in disbelief.
“No,” Bean said simply. “It belongs to us.”
“Just because the artist wasn’t famous then, but is becoming so now,” Graham sputtered. “I suppose you think you can have it back at the same price you sold it, too!”
“Give it to me at once,” the duke commanded imperiously. “I demand its return.”
“Your Grace!” his driver called from out in the corridor. “I see one of your creditors. We must flee!”
The duke dashed from the parlor.
Chloe raised an eyebrow at Elizabeth. “Didn’t the duke say he drove himself here in a curricle?”
Elizabeth smiled innocently. “He’ll remember that once he steps outside.”
“It will be too late.” Jacob grinned at his sisters. “Mr. Randall will bar the door tight behind him.”
“I wish he wouldn’t appear once a month with some canvas to sell, and then snub us on the streets as though we were the urchins,” Graham grumbled.
“We were the urchins,” Elizabeth reminded him. “There’s no shame in being poor or an orphan.”
“None at all,” Chloe agreed, and turned back to Dot and Mrs. Pine. “You rescued one. We’ll rescue the rest. We cannot leave children in such abominable conditions.”
“We cannot rescue them yet.” Graham rubbed his jaw. “If we go and kidnap a dozen young girls—”
“Two dozen,” Dot murmured.
“—two dozen young girls,” he amended, “people will notice and there will be questions. At the moment, Miss Spranklin has guardianship and the courts would side in her favor.”
Chloe straightened. “If there is no law that can stop her, then we have no choice but to shut down this so-called Seminary for Girls ourselves.”
“I’ll pay a visit tomorrow morning,” said Bean. “Whilst Miss Spranklin is distracted with me, the rest of you can—”
Mrs. Pine shook her head. “I tried. No visitors allowed.”
“Perhaps not from you or me,” Chloe said gently. “But Bean is a baron—”
“Not even from lords.” Mrs. Pine’s expression was bleak. “Miss Spranklin allows no visits from anyone at any time of the year.”
“Parents cannot see their own children?” Jacob said, appalled. “No holidays or outside contact of any kind?”
Mrs. Pine shook her head. “None at all. I suspect any parent that would agree to such terms must be like the family who abandoned Dot. Most children were placed there because they aren’t wanted at home.”
“Or don’t have a home,” Dot said. “Only a few students leave for Christmas or summer holiday.”
“When is summer holiday?”
“The month of August,” Dot answered. “Right after the musicale.”
Mrs. Pine turned to stare at her. “The what?”
“The musicale,” Dot repeated. “The girls whose parents do care enough to take them home for Yuletide expect their daughters to become respectable ladies. The annual musicale is when Miss Spranklin shows off how accomplished her students have become, and convinces the parents to pay higher tuition.”
Chloe straightened. Perhaps that was their opportunity to search for evidence against Miss Spranklin. “There will be fewer people at the school for the entire month?”
Dot shook her head. “Not this time. Mrs. Spranklin is expanding the school. She hopes to house a dozen more students after the construction finishes.”
“To finish in under a month, carpenters may have to work round the clock,” Bean murmured.
Chloe nodded. They could not break in whilst the school was swarming with additional witnesses, nor could they wait for the carpenters to finish and risk a dozen more girls falling into Miss Spranklin’s web. They had to act as swiftly as possible.
“We have one month,” Bean said. “Let’s not take more than a week.”
Chapter 3
Early the next evening, the Wynchester family reunited in the upstairs Planning Parlor, a sound-dampened private sitting room they used for plotting stratagems.
Chloe picked her way carefully across the dark slate