Page 70 of Where the Heart Leads
Her mind cleared. That was how it had to be. Obviously.
Lips curving, she sighed; turning onto her side, she snuggled her cheek into her pillow and closed her eyes.
All she needed to do was take control of the situation, and all would be well.
Confident, reassured, she slept.
“I’m so glad I came with you this morning.” Penelope stood on the pavement outside Griselda’s shop, waiting while Barnaby leaned back into the hackney and retrieved the large box containing their printed notices.
Hefting the box, he nudged the carriage door shut, then nodded to the jarvey. As the hackney pulled away, he turned to Penelope and struggled to hide his smile. From the moment they’d left the printing works off the Edgware Road, she’d entertained him with a steady flow of observations and suppositions.
She fell in beside him as he walked to Griselda’s door. “Thank you—it’s been a thoroughly informative and useful morning.” She glanced at him as, balancing the box on his shoulder, he waved her ahead of him up the steps. “Over the last few years we’ve been investigating other trades for our orphans. We’ve had some success with merchants. After meeting Mr. Cole and being shown around his works, I believe we should investigate printing houses as possible places for our boys.”
Following her into the shop, he said, “You should speak with Cole—I’m sure he’ll be happy to trial some of your lads.” Not only was the sister of Viscount Calverton the sort of lady Cole would trip over his toes to assist, but notwithstanding the box on Barnaby’s shoulder, the man still owed him.
Nodding, Penelope swept deeper into the shop. “I believe I will.” Smiling at the apprentices, she waved them back to their work. “No need to announce us—we’ll go through to Miss Martin.”
Pushing past the curtain, she halted. Barnaby just managed not to run her down. Griselda wasn’t in the kitchen area.
“Up here, Penelope.”
Glancing up the narrow stairs, Penelope beamed. “There you are.”
She set off up the stairs. Barnaby shrugged the box from his shoulder, then carrying it before him, followed her up.
He emerged into Griselda’s parlor to see Penelope shaking hands with Stokes, who was in his “East End” disguise, as was Griselda.
“Perfect.” Setting the box on a side table, Barnaby folded back the flaps, pulled out the top sheet, and held it up for Stokes and Griselda to read.
Griselda beside him, Stokes did; he slowly smiled. “Perfect indeed.” He took the notice, holding it so he and Griselda could better see. “We were about to head out to follow up the information Mr. Martin and others have gathered on our five remaining potential schoolmasters.”
Handing the notice to Griselda, Stokes looked at the box. “How many do you have?”
“Two thousand.” Barnaby thrust his hands in his pockets. “Enough to effectively flood the East End. What we need to know is the best way of distributing them—spreading them as far and wide as we can within that area.”
“The markets.” Griselda looked up from the notice. “We were going there again anyway, but there’s no better way to spread these than to leave them with the stallholders. And today’s Friday—the Friday and Saturday markets are the busiest. The only other worthwhile places to leave them would be the pubs and taverns, but the markets reach more people—women as well as men.”
Stokes nodded. “We’ll take them with us today. The sooner we can find the boys the better.”
“What have you learned about the other possible schoolmasters?” Penelope looked from Stokes to Griselda. “Anything to suggest one of those names is the man we’re after?”
Stokes grimaced. “Nothing definite. The difficulty with these five is that they don’t move in wider circles—they keep close to their lairs and interact only with those they must. We think we’ve got directions for three—Slater, Watts, and Hornby. We’ll check those today. The other two—Grimsby and Hughes—we’ve yet to get any certain news of. However, with both of them, what the local bobbies have got, and Griselda’s father, too, are evasive answers, which makes me suspect that both are currrently involved in something illegal. Whether that something is running the school we’re seeking is anyone’s guess, but if the other three turn out to be law-abiding at present—which us so easily getting their locations makes more likely—then Grimsby and Hughes will become our best bets.”
Griselda glanced at Stokes. “After we check the first three, if there’s no sign of the boys there, we’ll press harder to see what we can turn up on Grimsby and Hughes.” She looked at Barnaby. “The problem is that no one knows—or at least is prepared to tell us—what areas they’re lurking in, which makes locating them rather like searching for a needle in a massive haystack.”
“It’s possible the notices might gain us a clue,” Barnaby said. “At least point to which area we should focus on.”
“What about the Bushels? Mary and Horry?” Penelope looked at Stokes. “Have you visited yet?”
Stokes nodded; he glanced at Barnaby. “Your message reached me in good time—I got to Black Lion Yard late that afternoon. I spoke with Mary Bushel and the Wills boys. Between us, we’ve worked out a plan that should keep Mary and Horry safe, but leave the door invitingly open, so to speak, in the hope these blackguards will make a move.”
Stokes’s expression turned feral. “I just hope they do. Between the Willses and the local force, the villains won’t find it easy to get out of Black Lion Yard.”
Barnaby raised his brows. “I hadn’t thought of it, but the yard does lend itself to being an excellent trap.”
“Exactly. So Horry and his grandmother are as well protected as they could be, and our trap is in place.” Stokes nodded. “Now we need to see if we can get a bead on who we’re likely to catch in it.”
He picked up the box of notices. “Griselda and I will hand these out as we pass the markets.” He glanced at the other three. “We need to learn where this schoolmaster is keeping the boys, and get them out of his clutches, preferably before he sends them out to work.”
