Page 54 of Where the Heart Leads
Before she had time to assimilate the sensation, and resecure her wits, his other hand captured her face, tipping it up as he stepped closer, bent his head, and pressed his lips to hers.
A gentle kiss this time, one that spun out in sweetness, that extended for just long enough for her to be completely swept away.
Lifting his head, he murmured, the words a wash of heat across her now hungry lips, “Sleep well—and dream of me.”
A shiver of anticipation slithered down her spine. She opened her eyes.
Straightening, he reached past her and tugged the bellpull; immediately she heard Leighton’s footsteps on the other side of the door.
Barnaby stepped back and saluted her.
Behind her the door opened; with a nod to Leighton, and a last glance for her, Barnaby turned, descended the steps, then strode away into the night.
Leaving her staring after him. Raising a hand, she touched her fingers to her lips, then she swung around and went inside.
10
At eight o’clock the next morning, in the large room on the second floor of his rickety tenement in Weavers Street, deep in the slums east of the north end of Brick Lane, Grimsby in his guise as schoolmaster was preparing to address the latest group of inductees into Grimsby’s Burglary School for Orphaned Boys.
Pacing slowly before the seven boys lined up before him, only one short of fulfilling Smythe’s order and breaking free of Alert’s clutches, Grimsby was pleased. He showed it with an expansive, avuncular smile; he’d long ago learned that boys responded to overt emotions—they quickly learned that when he was happy, they would be happy, too. And then they worked to keep a smile on his face.
Little light penetrated the grimy windows even in summer; today, with fog hanging heavy outside, a gray dimness pervaded the space, yet they were all—the boys, Grimsby, and his assistant, Wally—used to working in poor light. Old straw and the accompanying dust covered the bare plank floor; the dust eddied with every step Grimsby took.
Wally, a quiet, unremarkable sort in his mid-twenties who invariably did exactly as Grimsby told him, stood in the shadows by the stairs. He was of average height, average build, with bland features—a man everyone forgot an instant after seeing him. That, in Grimsby’s eyes, was Wally’s strength; it was why Smythe had taken Wally with him yesterday to fetch their latest recruit.
There was little furniture in the room, which took up the entire floor. A long narrow trestle at which the boys ate and sometimes worked had been pushed against one wall, the crude benches on which they sat stowed beneath. The unpolished tin bowls and spoons they ate with sat in a dark corner; the straw-filled pallets on which they slept were strewn on the floor of the attic above, which was reached by a wooden ladder.
The aids provided for the boys’ education were both primitive and practical. Ropes of various thicknesses dangled from the rafters; a plethora of locks and bolts decorated the wooden walls. A section of iron fencing with spikes at the top rested against one wall; a similar section of bars used to protect windows leaned alongside. Rough wooden frames, all smaller than a man could pass through, lay stacked nearby.
Grimsby surveyed the accoutrements of his trade, then, halting at the center of the line, he looked over his pupils, and beamed. “I’ve already welcomed some of you to this fine establishment, but today we welcome another into our little group.” He focused on the scrawny, brown-haired lad in the middle of the line. “Jemmie here is the second last to join us. There’s one more coming—one more place vacant—but he’s not here yet.”
Grimsby pulled the sides of his woolen coat together; the room was drafty, not that the boys in their thin grimy clothes, or Wally, seemed to notice.
“However,” Grimsby continued, “we’re going to start your lessons proper from today. The last boy will have to catch up. Now, I’ve told you—each and every one of you—how lucky you are to get a place here. The authorities have handed you over to us to see to it that you have a trade.”
He beamed even more brightly, meeting their wary eyes. None of those he selected were stupid; stupid boys never lasted more than one outing, which made them a waste of his time. “So I’m going to tell you what you’ll do. You’ll work, eat, and sleep here. You won’t go out unless you’re with Wally, or later, once you’ve mastered the basics and are ready fer on-the-job training, with my associate, Mr. Smythe.
“But first, our lessons here will teach you to how to break into houses, how to make your way around the mansions of the nobs in the dark without making a sound, how to slip bolts and pick locks, how to crawl through small spaces, and also how to keep watch. You’ll learn how to scale walls, how to deal with dogs. You’ll learn everything you need to know to become a burglar’s apprentice.”
He eyed the line of small watchful faces, and kept his smile genial. “Now, this school doesn’t run all the time—only when we have places waiting fer our boys. I don’t need to tell you what a piece of luck it is to be chosen to train in a field where there’s a job waiting fer you to step into it. You’re all orphans—just think of all those other orphans out there, struggling to earn a crust and likely sleeping in the gutter. You’ve been lucky!”
Leaning closer, smile fading, he met each boy’s eyes. “Remember that—that you would have ended in the gutter, just like all the other orphans, if you hadn’t been so lucky as to get a place here.” He straightened and, features relaxing, nodded at them. “So you work hard, and make sure you’re worthy. Now—what do you say to that?”
They shifted, but dutifully chorused, “Yes, Mr. Grimsby.”
“Good. Good!” He looked at Wally. “Wally here will start your lessons today—you mark what he says and pay attention and you’ll do well. Like I said, once you’ve grasped the basics, Mr. Smythe—he’s a legend in this field—will start taking you out with him on the streets so you get to learn the ropes on the job.”
Once again, he surveyed his small troop. “Right now—any questions?”
To his surprise, after a moment of wavering hesitation, their latest recruit tentatively raised his hand.
Grimsby studied him, then nodded. “Yes—what is it?”
The boy—Jemmie, that was it—bit his lips, drew breath, then mumbled, “You said the authorities sent us here to learn how to be burglar’s apprentices. But burglary’s against the law—why would the authorities send us to learn it?”
Grimsby smiled—he couldn’t help it; he’d always approved of boys who could think. “That’s a smart question, but the answer, lad, is simple. If there weren’t any lads training as burglar’s boys, then the burglars couldn’t work, or not so much, and then who would the rozzers have to chase? It’s a game, see?” He looked at the other faces, well aware the same question had been germinating under each thatch of grimy hair. “It’s a game, lads—it’s all a game. The rozzers chase us, but they need us. Stands to reason. If we weren’t there, they’d be out of a job.”
They swallowed the twisted truth whole; Grimsby saw a more certain light enter all seven pairs of eyes. Only natural; they were relieved and reassured that their new life was an honorable one. Yes, there was honor among thieves—at least when they were young.
