Murder in the East End - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,97
to look after the children,” I informed him, “and so aren’t bothered by them. I quite admire you for taking them in.”
“Of course you do. I was trying to be admirable.” Mr. Fielding softened his tone. “And the devil I’d let them go to a workhouse.”
While he was harried, I could see Mr. Fielding was less grief-stricken, more pulled into the present than lingering in the past. Nurse Betts, I imagined, would approve.
Daniel moved another box and took a seat. Mrs. Hodder appeared, eyes wide, but Mr. Fielding waved her off. “We don’t require refreshment,” Mr. Fielding told her. “I have put upon you enough as it is.”
She apparently agreed, as she moved out of sight with barely a nod.
“She’ll give notice with all this chaos,” Mr. Fielding said mournfully. “She’s a wonderful housekeeper, but I have asked too much, I think.”
“I am pleased to hear the children are lively,” I said. “It means they are not broken.”
Mr. Fielding sobered. “They are up and down. Like normal children one moment—that is to say, hellions—the next, they take fright and will barely speak. Will be like that for a while, I wager. Their lives will never be the same, but perhaps they won’t be lost entirely.”
“You managed.” I gestured at the comfortable room. “Here you are.”
Mr. Fielding sent me a wry look. “Only because I became a ferocious little devil. Fought like hell for everything.” He paused. “But yes, here I am.”
Daniel waited until we were finished. “We came with news,” he said lightly. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Don’t be heartless, old cock,” Mr. Fielding said in a hard voice. “Of course I want to hear it.”
Daniel proceeded to tell him that the foundling children were safe and well, and of the culprit on the board of governors. When he mentioned the name Bishop Exley, Mr. Fielding stared in incredulity, then exploded with laughter.
“That sanctimonious old weasel. A confidence man, is he?” Mr. Fielding’s laughter ended in a cough. “Well, well. This means a place for a suffragan bishop might be dangling for the taking. Hmm.”
A suffragan was an assistant, if I remembered aright. “Do you believe you could have a chance at it?” I asked.
“Of course, dear lady.” Mr. Fielding gave me a sly wink. “Where do you think Exley’s demesne lay?” He spread his hands. “The East End.”
He chuckled again, then caught sight of Daniel’s quiet eye on him, and his laughter died. “You have more to say.”
Daniel nodded and related the tale of McGregor arresting the villains who’d killed Nurse Betts. Mr. Fielding listened stoically, and when Daniel finished, he collapsed back into his chair.
“Damn the bastards,” he muttered. “Damn them straight to hell. If they’re not hanged until they’re black in the face, I hope every evil man they’re banged up with tears them apart. If they don’t, I will.”
I flinched at the vicious words, but I could not condemn him for them. Nurse Betts had not deserved to die, wretched and in pain. Likely the bullies had hurt many more besides her.
“I told you we should go after Naismith,” Mr. Fielding went on. “That chap I told you about, his enemy, is willing. He very much wants you to join us.”
“And then we’d be in thrall to a man as bad as Naismith or worse,” Daniel pointed out.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Daniel scowled at him. “This man wants me in his fold, does he? Have you asked yourself why?”
“Because you’re in thick with the police,” Mr. Fielding answered easily. “Of course I deduced that.”
“He’d pump me for knowledge I am reluctant to give,” Daniel said. “Then where would we be? Dead, probably.”
Mr. Fielding shrugged, the movement too nonchalant. “You disappoint me, dear brother. But you are no doubt right.” He seemed to dismiss the matter, but I had the feeling Daniel and I hadn’t heard the last about this man who wanted to go after Mr. Naismith.
Mr. Fielding became somber once more. “The hell of it is,” he said softly, “Nell was killed not because of the reprobate me, but because of the reformed me. She believed in me, the vicar who worried so much for the foundling children. If she’d known the rogue I truly was, she’d never have tried to find me to help her that day.” He rested his head on the back of the chair, gazing at the ceiling, hiding what was in his eyes.
“You are better than you know,” I said gently. “If you’d truly been