the air to a smelly fug. Houses in this area were homes to working-class families, many of whom labored at the nearby brewery, which also emitted its share of smoke.
I led Grace along Charles Street, which crossed Hatton Garden and turned onto Leather Lane, lively with a market this morning, offering plenty of wares that might hold my interest any other time.
We hurried past the market stalls and made for a tiny artery called Baldwin’s Gardens, which led past St. Alban’s Church and a school opposite. A more salubrious route, I thought, than taking Grace past the brewery or near Coldbath Fields, a prison that lay too near the Foundling Hospital. A number of indigent men and women lingered near St. Alban’s, and I tugged Grace close as we passed.
At the end of Baldwin’s Gardens lay Gray’s Inn Road, and there I turned north. The fine squares of the men of law at Gray’s Inn lined the street, shutting us out from whatever parks and greens they enjoyed behind their high walls.
I knew my way around these streets from the almost-daily walk I’d done when I’d been with child, my feet carrying me again and again to the place I feared I’d have to leave my baby.
Grace trotted by my side, gazing with interest at a part of London she’d never seen. “Where are we going, Mum?”
“To Brunswick Square,” I said, not slowing. I decided she’d know soon enough, so I confessed. “To the Foundling Hospital.”
“Why are we going there?”
“Mr. McAdam asked me to.”
I did not want to tell her about the missing children, not yet. I was not certain how much it would upset her.
Grace seemed to see nothing sinister in visiting the Hospital, however. I kept a tight hold on her hand as we turned on Guilford Street, and slowed our steps before the gates and long courtyard to the massive gray building that had haunted me for the longest year of my life.
The open space behind the gates teemed with activity. A long line of boys in gray coats marched behind two taller boys. They actually did march, a military-like step that rang on the pavement. The lads’ coats were shapeless, caps of gray jammed on their heads.
The boys looked neither right nor left as they paraded across the courtyard. Whether they trained for a parade or simply took morning exercise, I could not say.
Grace watched them avidly, but I tugged her away to the lane that led along the west side of the Hospital. A tall brick wall shielded us from the building, though the upper windows glared down over it.
I scanned the wall for any entrance or stairs that would take us to the servants’ area. The times I’d wandered past, many years ago, I’d only glanced through the gates and then rushed on.
“Are we bringing alms to the poor children here?” Grace asked. “Like you do with the beggars in Mount Street?”
I realized I gripped Grace’s hand more firmly than necessary. She hadn’t complained, but I made myself relax.
“Something like that,” I answered. “There.” I pointed. “That looks as though it leads to the kitchens.”
A small gate, unlocked, opened to a short flight of brick stairs that ended at a dust-covered door, its windows so dark I could not see through them. Taking a chance, I turned the handle, and was rewarded by the door opening easily.
Beyond was a small hallway that stored mops and buckets and a tattered broom evidently meant for the back steps. The ceiling was low, this entry out of the way and unimportant.
The passageway led around a corner to another set of steps, and at the bottom of this, a larger hall opened out. The ceiling was higher here, with stone beams, painted white, holding the immense weight of the building above.
Noise came at us, a cacophony of it. I moved cautiously along . . . and then took a startled step back as a maid with a wide basin of water dashed out of a room immediately in front of me to dive into another across the hall.
A second maid followed with another basin. She caught sight of me, started, and spilled a wave of water down her front before she could right the basin.
“Out of the way, missus,” she snarled at me, then disappeared across the hall.
I peeked carefully into the room from which she had departed, finding a large scullery. Three sinks lined the far wall, and three maids in black, sleeves rolled to their elbows,