Murder in the East End - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,66

drawing.

Lady Cynthia, in a tailored man’s suit, plunked herself at the kitchen table, stealing a scrap of dough for the breakfast tarts I’d make with the decent apples I’d found on our shopping expedition.

“Overslept myself,” Cynthia said. “Judith’s fault.” She jerked her head at Miss Townsend, who continued to serenely sketch.

“Did she make ya sit up all night while she drew you?” Tess asked in interest.

“Nothing so tame. She and Bobby invited me to a do in Bloomsbury. Freethinking men and women discussing topics of the day. At least, that’s what they told me. Turns out, the freethinking men and women had plenty of whisky, brandy, and wine. Ladies not confined to tea and ratafia.”

“I never knew Cynthia was so fond of singing,” Miss Townsend said, her eyes on her sketchbook.

“Cynthia never had so much to drink at one time in her life,” Cynthia said, stealing another scrap. “My head aches so. But it was a fine thing, to wash away the stench of visiting the ladies and gents we met at the Foundling Hospital. Thanos and I had tea with our pair yesterday.”

“Ah,” I said. I’d wondered when they’d set up a meeting. “What is your report?”

Only Tess and I and Miss Townsend were in the kitchen at the moment. Charlie was asleep in a corner in the servants’ hall; the maids and footmen upstairs were deep into their chores. Mrs. Redfern was upstairs as well, Mr. Davis in his pantry. Elsie splashed in the scullery, but I didn’t mind if she heard Lady Cynthia’s tale. She had an interest in this too.

“Judith tells me that the Floreys, one of the couples, are quite fine people,” Cynthia began. “Just my luck she chooses the upstanding citizens. They apparently are anxious to have children, are getting nowhere, and have decided to adopt a few poor foundlings. They are filled with sympathy and goodness, says Judith.”

“That was my impression,” Miss Townsend said without ceasing her work.

“Thanos and I met with Mr. and Mrs. Woolner. Agnes and Nelson.” Cynthia took a quick sip of tea I’d put before her. “Unsavory people. Thanos has written to the director to keep them far from the Hospital and its children.”

I halted in the act of peeling an apple. “Oh dear.”

“Quite.” Another slurp of tea. “I scarce dare repeat what they said to us. I thought I was inured to vileness, as Bobby and I have slipped into clubs where gentlemen do not withhold their ideas about what women are good for, but I have corrected that misapprehension.”

“Nutters, are they?” Tess asked. “You’d be amazed what gets shouted at me on the streets. From gentlemen what should be respectable, no less.”

“Some gentlemen believe they only need behave well under certain conditions,” Miss Townsend said from her corner. “They show another face when no ladies are present, or when not among gentlemen they need to impress with their uprightness.”

Such as a vicar, I added silently. “Is Mr. Thanos very upset?” I asked. He was a gentleman in all senses of the word.

“He is indeed. I believe he’s taken to his bed.” Cynthia’s face was wan. “Without repeating the entire sordidness of it, Mr. and Mrs. Woolner keep their married life lively by bringing in others to entertain them both. This may be another man or woman, or another couple—they openly hinted they’d like me and Mr. Thanos to join them. They also expressed interest in those much younger than themselves of either sex.” Her hand tightened on her teacup, and I understood her need to imbibe the night before. “They assured us they didn’t mean too young, but certainly not fully grown. And they assured us they paid the young people well.”

“Which makes it acceptable, in their eyes,” Miss Townsend added tightly.

I knew full well that girls of thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, and sadly even younger, lads too, plied such a trade on the streets and in bawdy houses. Some of the houses specialized in youngsters. Reformers and the law went through these houses from time to time and shut them down, but they sprang up again as soon as things quieted down. The practice, in all its guises, went on.

I set down the knife I’d lifted, calmly, as though rage did not rush through me. “I believe I will set the police on them.” I knew exactly which policeman. Inspector McGregor had no interest in a person’s rank or social standing, only that they’d committed a crime.

“I will join you,” Miss Townsend said. “If the police balk,