The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth

Watching him, Amos was suddenly angry and sickened. What sort of country did he live in when little boys could roam the streets, in dire need of food, clothing and shelter? It made his blood boil. All the wealth in this lush Edwardian era and bairns starving on the streets of London. Appalling, it was.

The child suddenly stopped eating, and looking across at Amos he offered him the pie. ‘’Ere,’ ave a taste.’

Shaking his head, Amos picked up his own pie and began to eat, and after a mouthful or two, he explained, ‘One each, you see. I must have known I was going to meet you.’

‘’Ow yer know’d that then?’

‘I’ve no idea, lad. I suppose I just did. Would you like a drink? Water, milk, something like that?’

The boy nodded, his eyes eager.

‘We have to go and get it,’ Amos explained, and took a bite out of his pie. ‘I’m full,’ he murmured, looking at the child. ‘Why don’t you finish it for me?’

Shaking his head the boy jumped off the wall, stepped backward, looking worried.

‘Shame to waste it, really,’ Amos muttered almost to himself, and put the remainder of the pie on the wall.

After a moment the child started to reach for it, then paused, his big eyes resting on Amos. He wanted the pie but appeared afraid to touch it.

‘It’s all right, you can have it. I told you I’m full to bursting,’ Amos remarked.

Once the piece had been demolished by the child, Amos stood up, stretched out his hand and said, ‘Come on, let’s go and find that glass of milk, shall we?’

‘Naw, can’t go.’

‘Why not? It isn’t very far.’

‘Can’t leave me cart.’

‘It’ll be quite safe, I’m sure of that,’ Amos assured him.

‘’Ow long?’

‘You mean how long to get there? How far it is?’

The boy nodded.

‘Ten, fifteen minutes, that’s all.’

Instantly the boy shrank back, shaking his head vehemently. ‘Naw, naw, stayin’ ’ere. It’s safe ’ere.’

Crouching down, looking into the child’s scared face, Amos said in the warmest voice he could muster, ‘Tell you what, I know you’re tired, how about I carry you there? We’ll have a glass of milk and then I’ll bring you back to the cart. Or take you wherever you want to go. I promise.’

The child stared back at him, his eyes appearing even larger, and he suddenly smiled. ‘Cross yer ’eart an’ ’ope ter die?’ he said, staring hard at Amos.

‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

Darting to the cart, the boy scrambled inside, and reappeared a moment later clutching a dirty cloth bag tied at the top with string. He clambered out of the cart and stood looking up at Amos.

‘What’s in the bag?’ Amos asked, reaching for it.

The boy clutched it to his body, shaking his head harder than ever, fearful again. ‘Naw, naw, it’s me fings! Yer can’t ’ave it.’

‘It’s all right, laddie, I don’t want it. I thought you might like me to carry it, that’s all. Anyway, I’ll carry you, and you can carry your bag, and that’ll be fine.’

There was only a moment’s hesitation, and then the boy confided, ‘Me mam says that…cross me ’eart an’ ’ope ter die.’

‘So she’s not dead?’

‘Yeah, she is…she’s in Potters Field.’

Cursing himself once more for his thoughtlessness, Amos bent down and picked the boy up in his arms, carried him out of the cul-de-sac and up towards Commercial Street, singing, ‘Onward Christian soldiers, going off to war, with the Cross of Jesus going on before.’

As Amos walked along, singing his favourite hymn half to himself, he felt the little boy go limp in his arms almost immediately; his head rested on Amos’s broad shoulder, one hand clutched his precious cloth bag, the other held tightly to the lapel of Amos’s overcoat.

Poor little bairn, Amos thought, he’s exhausted. Whatever will become of him? And where should I take him after we’ve had the milk at Haddon House?

It was whilst they were eating the pies in the cul-desac that Amos had had the idea to take the boy over to Haddon House, just off Whitechapel High Street. He was quite certain that Lady Fenella would be able to help. He had known her since she and her aunt had opened the safe haven for battered women three years ago, and he admired her, respected her for the extraordinary work she was doing in the East End.

After all, she was titled in her own right, being the daughter of the Earl of Tanfield, and, as the widow of Lord Jeremy Fayne, a wealthy woman. She was young, not yet twenty-eight, and considered something of a beauty in society—tall, elegant with blonde hair and grey eyes. As an aristocrat and socialite, she did not have to devote half her life to helping those in distress, yet she did, and did so with great efficiency, kindness, devotion and love. And all those who met her, from all walks of life, succumbed to her charms, fell under her spell.

It was more than likely that she wouldn’t be there at this hour of the evening. However, Amos knew that some of her helpers would be at Haddon House because Lady Fenella’s policy was to keep the doors open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week; no one was ever turned away. Perhaps the boy could sleep there tonight, once he had been cleaned up a bit.

Amos loathed the mere thought of taking him back to the cul-de-sac and that decrepit old cart, and, in fact, he had no intention of doing so. It was so unsanitary and unhealthy, and, furthermore, extremely dangerous. For the boy to be sleeping outside on the street the way he was doing begged for trouble. It was inhuman to allow a child to exist in such a terrible way.

He decided he would make inquiries at the local Dr Barnardo’s Home tomorrow; perhaps the orphanage would be able to find a place for him.

All of a sudden, as he continued on his way, Amos thought of Charlie and Maisie, wished they were here, that they still lived in Whitechapel. They would have taken the boy in to live with them without a second thought, made him feel most welcome. That’s the way they were.

As it was, the brother and sister were in New York, walking those streets they claimed were paved with gold, seeking work as actors. He missed them, most especially Charlie, and looked forward to more cheerful letters from him. One had arrived already, and it seemed that their prospects were good.

Hoisting the boy, holding him close, Amos hurried now, wanting to get to Haddon House. One thing he was certain of was a warm welcome. All of the women who worked there were pleasant, helpful and accommodating. They were the salt of the earth.

THIRTY-ONE (#)

All the lights were blazing when Amos Finnister finally arrived at Haddon House, and they were a most welcome sight, gladdened his heart. Lifting the brass knocker, he banged it several times, and within a couple of seconds the door was opened.

To his utter surprise he stood staring at the familiar and lovely face of Will Hasling’s sister, Mrs Vicky Forth. She was looking as surprised as he was himself.

‘Goodness gracious, it’s you, Mr Finnister!’ she gasped, then immediately added, ‘Do please come in, won’t you?’

‘Evening, Mrs Forth,’ he replied at once, stepping into the vestibule. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here, ma’am, and especially in the evening.’

‘I’m helping Lady Fenella two days a week,’ Vicky explained, ‘and my presence here this evening is rather unusual, Mr Finnister. There was an emergency, you see, and Lady Fenella asked me to come in to help her deal with it. But please, let us not stand here in the chilly foyer. Come into the great room where there’s a fire.’ Peering at the sleeping boy with immense curiosity, she then asked, ‘And who is this little fellow?’

‘I found him out on the streets, Mrs Forth,’ Amos answered as together they walked into the large main room where there were several big sofas, plenty of comfortable chairs, as well as a long trestle table covered with a white cloth. ‘He was hiding in a cart,’ Amos explained and quickly filled her in as they made their way over to the fireplace.

The lamplight, the sudden warmth and the voices caused the boy to stir in Amos’s arms, and he suddenly awakened, began to struggle at once. ‘Steady on, laddie,’ Amos murmured and placed the boy on the floor. Again he seemed a little unsteady on his feet for a second, and then he looked up at Amos, appearing afraid. He was shivering excessively.