Coming Home (15 page)

B
UT HER NEWFOUND confidence did not last. Being in the lion's den was frightening. The following morning she hurried into the infirmary, almost twitching her skirt out of Mr Pettigrew's way as she passed. Trying to quell the cold shudders rippling down her spine from his gaze on her back, she scurried across the square and slammed the door behind her.

‘You came back then,' was the Pirate's welcoming salvo.

Juliana nodded and said nothing. Should she tell Minna about the plan to talk to Sir Alexander Mortimer? Minna had every right to know about the rescue plans for young Kit. But it would be best if the investigation into Pettigrew was kept a secret. Loathing Pettigrew as she did, the Pirate might start prattling to the inmates about the plan. And with Pettigrew so cunning and unscrupulous, that would never do. He might well lay all the blame for their enterprise squarely on her uncle and, although Uncle Sholto was a nasty piece of goods, he
was
her uncle. Pettigrew must be caught red-handed with no chance of wriggling out of his share of the blame. Most important of all, they had to find Tilly and Kit before they disappeared into the London underworld and they could not do that without a certain amount of co-operation from Pettigrew.

So all Juliana said when she drew Minna aside was, ‘Those people I told you about are helping us. They are meeting Sir Alexander.'

Minna's one eye lit up like a tallow candle. ‘Miss! However did you do that?'

‘Hush. Pure luck. It turns out he is a neighbour of theirs and they know him quite well. Please,
please
be quiet about this, Minna. And remember, we will need you for questioning.'

The Pirate grinned. ‘I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't mind seeing stubborn old Mortimer again. Bet he wishes he'd never driven his only son away.'

Juliana tiptoed through the day praying that the inmates would not
question Minna's sudden high spirits. Her lugubrious stoicism had been replaced with a rollicking cheer rarely found in the infirmary, and Juliana gritted her teeth when Minna said loudly, ‘Hey! Give Miss Colebrook a hand here. She shouldn't be carrying buckets o' water.'

Juliana had carried buckets containing a lot worse than water, but suddenly she was a heroine to the Pirate. However she needn't have worried. The other inmates were sunk in their usual apathy. They had already forgotten what had happened two days ago.

How she wished she knew what was going on at Trewbridge! If only she were there, in the thick of things. It had been
so
good to be with Colly again. In her uncle's house she felt alone, as if half of her was torn away. But as soon as she'd laid her hand on Colly's arm, she'd felt the loneliness recede. Best of all, she had seen how much the Trewbridges trusted Colly and relied on him. He was thriving in their household.

And he must have missed her too. He'd helped her into the carriage and his face had been taut with anxiety as he whispered, ‘Please stay alert, Juliana. I don't like this at all. God be with you.' And when she'd gazed back at Trewbridge as the carriage turned to exit the gates, she had seen him standing beside Twoomey on the driveway.

She paced over to the infirmary window and peered out, trying to guess what hour it was. By now, Kit and Tilly could be in London. And the dread was steadily growing that Pettigrew and Sholto Colebrook might have sampled the goods first. It was not an unreasonable assumption. Neither man had any sense of honour or self-discipline. They would take what they wanted and someone else would pay for it.

By the time the summons came, her stomach was burning and biting.

At the knock on the door, her head jerked up from where she was spooning soup into the mouth of a young, vacant-faced woman sent recently from Bethlem. Some inept doctor had decided that this wretched bundle of misery had been ‘cured' enough to work. So when Pettigrew's bang on the door frightened the woman into a trembling huddle, Juliana's simmering fury erupted. ‘Yes?' she snarled, yanking open the door.

Pettigrew stepped back looking startled. ‘Good heavens, Miss Colebrook! You had better show a pleasanter face than that. We are summoned to meet the board of governors this very minute.'

She stared at him, her thoughts tumbling end over end. ‘Now? Is this the usual time for a meeting?'

‘I fail to see what business of yours that is. I daresay they wish to meet you.'

Hah! Which meant he didn't know what the meeting was about. Good. It was too soon for the Trewbridges to have set any wheels in motion, but she might get to meet Sir Alexander Mortimer at last.

‘One moment please,' she said to Pettigrew. She rushed to untie her stained apron and wash her hands.

Pettigrew grabbed her arm in an iron grip as they stepped out across the quadrangle and for one awful moment she wondered if, in fact, they were not going to a meeting at all. Then from the corner of her eye she saw two well-dressed gentlemen heading toward the big double doors of the workhouse and she relaxed. It was all right. A genuine meeting
was
taking place.

They walked into a hall set up with a long refectory table and chairs. As soon as the board, consisting of four gentlemen and a lady were seated, Pettigrew dragged her forward to introduce her.

There was something very strange about Pettigrew's attitude. He seemed hell bent on giving the impression that she was a close friend of his,
very
close indeed. Puzzled, she turned to stare at him and surprised a ferocious, almost desperate gleam in his eyes. It was as though he looked to her to lend him respectability. She tugged her arm away. She had no intention of letting these people think there was any sort of association between herself and Pettigrew.

One of the gentlemen stood up. ‘I am Sir Alexander Mortimer, my dear,' he said.

She was not sure about the paternalistic ‘my dear' but he looked to be a most respectable gentleman, just the sort of grandfather she would have chosen for Kit. He was a trifle portly with an air of pomposity, but he seemed kind. She smiled, and he smiled back conspiratorially. ‘Later, you and I will have a chat, Miss Colebrook. The Trewbridges speak most highly of you.'

She bobbed a curtsy and he sat down.

Then a young man at the end of the table nodded to her. ‘Very pleased to meet you, Miss Colebrook. I'm Easton. Hetherington and I spoke this morning and he told me about your war nursing. We are grateful to have such an experienced nurse at Hungerford.' He moved around the table and shook her hand.

Colly and the Trewbridges
had
been busy! They must have been up at dawn.

The other two gentlemen introduced themselves, then Sir Alexander introduced her to the lady. ‘Lady Richelda, this is Miss Colebrook.'

Lady Richelda Stonehouse looked to be a rather starched-up young woman, but she nodded civilly and said in die-away tones, ‘I don't
know how you did it, Miss Colebrook, how a delicately brought up young lady could work amongst the wounded as you did …' She trailed off.

Juliana reflected that ‘delicately bred' did not describe her at all. For which she was thankful. If she had been ‘delicately bred' she would not have survived the first day at Sao Nazaire.

‘It is a pity other delicately bred women could not alter their principles and tend to the sick and dying,' Captain Easton said drily. Juliana smothered a grin when Lady Richelda cast him a venomous glance.

‘Yes, well.' Sir Alexander cleared his throat. ‘Now that the introductions are complete, I shall declare the reason for this special meeting.'

Juliana could hear the capital letters in his tones. He was a puffed-up old fellow. No doubt he often irritated the other members of the board, but all that mattered was that he would help her find his grandson.

‘There have been some unusual allegations made about the disappearance of people from the women's infirmary,' he began, but got no further.

‘Disappearance? Disappearance?' Pettigrew demanded like a wound-up parrot. ‘How can people disappear?' He rounded on Juliana. ‘Do you know anything about this, Miss Colebrook?'

‘Miss Colebrook has nothing to do with it,' Captain Easton interpolated. ‘These disappearances occurred before Miss Colebrook arrived.'

Everybody watched Pettigrew. Behind the wary eyes Juliana could see his brain racing. She could almost hear him sorting through ideas, discarding some, adopting others.

‘Then it must be something to do with the midwife, Mrs Bunnythorpe,' he said at last.

‘Mrs Bunnythorpe left the infirmary six months ago, Pettigrew.' Everyone in the room knew that Sir Alexander had purposely omitted the ‘Mr' in front of Pettigrew's name. ‘Some of these disappearances occurred within the last four months. Can you explain it?'

‘I don't know what you mean. It sounds ridiculous. How can people just disappear?' Pettigrew blustered.

‘Children, actually. It is children who have disappeared, Pettigrew.' The expression on Sir Alexander's face was that of a tenacious dog with his teeth into a tasty bone. He turned to his colleagues. ‘I propose that we repair to Pettigrew's house to discuss the matter. It's not fair to ask him such questions in front of Miss Colebrook.'

This last comment appeared to be by way of a sop to Pettigrew's feelings. Juliana was not sure what it really meant.

Then Sir Alexander stood up and bowed in Juliana's direction. ‘Miss Colebrook, we will meet later. But first we must resolve these complaints. The good name of the Hungerford Charities is at stake.' He turned to the other board members sitting at the table. ‘Who is free to come with me to interview Pettigrew?'

Only Lady Richelda declined. Juliana realized the decision had been made earlier. This was not the first meeting the board had convened today. They wanted to see inside Pettigrew's house, otherwise they would simply have asked her to leave the room.

‘You had best leave your carriage here, Pettigrew. You will travel with me,' Captain Easton said. He reminded Juliana of Colly. He had the same whipcord strength and calm certainty. He was the sort of man she trusted.

Lady Richelda beckoned to her. Oh dear. Now what?

‘Miss Colebrook, I should like you to escort me through the women's infirmary if you please.'

Juliana stared at her, aghast. The lady had the right to see the infirmary, but did she have the courage? Some of the sights there were not for ladies such as she.

‘Uh—'

‘I usually organize the supplies for the women's infirmary. Captain Easton insists it is time I saw what my task er … involves.' Lady Richelda appeared to be speaking through her teeth. ‘I shall rely on you to help me make a list of what is needed, Miss Colebrook.'

Amused at Easton's efforts to prod his dilettante colleague into doing more than dabbling her toe in the murky waters of ‘charity', Juliana hurried the lady across the square. It would be best if she raced through the procedure because she did not expect Lady Richelda Stonehouse to last more than a few minutes. Meeting the Pirate should do for Lady Richelda nicely.

But Juliana had misjudged her woman. As, no doubt, had Captain Easton. Lady Richelda followed Juliana through the big room, nodding to the inmates and noting the supplies that Juliana required. When they settled in the corner allotted to Juliana for office work, Lady Richelda produced a small square of paper from her reticule and stared at it ruefully.

‘I doubt this will be much good,' she said. ‘And we have no ink. Can we raid Pettigrew's office?'

‘Why not?'

Giggling like schoolgirls, they pattered back across the square and entered Pettigrew's sanctum.

Then stopped in the doorway. There was a stranger there, dressed in a bright red waistcoat. He was rifling through hundreds of papers stacked high on Pettigrew's desk.

‘Ah, excuse me. Who are you?' Juliana enquired.

Lady Richelda elbowed her. ‘He's a Runner,' she whispered.

‘
Runner
?' Juliana eyed the stout individual doubtfully.

Lady Richelda giggled and the feather on her bonnet danced a little jig. ‘A Bow Street Runner,' she explained.

‘Oh, I see.' When she was younger, Juliana's father had mentioned the Runners and the work they did in the London area. She wondered what a Bow Street Runner was doing so far west of London. Her father had likened the Bow Street Runners to robin redbreasts. This rotund gentleman did not look as though he could investigate his way out of a blind alley.

But he knew about paperwork. He shuffled through papers as if dealing cards. The speed of his chubby, dexterous fingers was fascinating. ‘May I help you, ladies?' he enquired, as if he were the owner of the premises.

‘We need some paper and ink please,' Lady Richelda said.

‘Help yourselves from the drawers. Just don't touch anything on the desk.' He gestured towards Pettigrew's impressive piece of furniture.

‘Will we interrupt you if we stay here?' Juliana asked.

‘No.'

Lady Richelda blinked and raised her eyebrows, but Juliana respected his forthrightness. He was busy, searching for something specific. His attitude indicated that he would not allow two silly women to prevent him from doing his job thoroughly. The Runners must already have uncovered Pettigrew's enterprise from the London end, which struck a chill into Juliana's heart. She could not see how her uncle could escape the law. On the other hand, Tilly and Kit stood a much better chance of being saved if the law was involved.

When the provisions list was complete, Lady Richelda stared at it. ‘It is much larger than usual.'

‘I'm sorry,' Juliana responded. ‘But I've had to supply my own rags, lye soap and salve since I began working here. Laudanum is in short supply too, and Pettigrew only allowed me one basin. I need more.'

‘B-but just last month the apothecary sent him two big bottles of laudanum on my behalf! I spoke to the man this morning and he commented that the infirmaries use a lot of laudanum. And I distinctly remember the Ladies' Guild from St Clement's sent two score earthenware bowls for gruel earlier this year to the women's infirmary.'