Eating poor victuals was part of the price she’d been willing to pay for her freedom, and she’d pay it again. But for now, she had no choice but to abandon herself to decadence. She wolfed down her portion, and when a maid quietly refilled her plate, she gobbled that serving up, too.
After the servants had whisked away their dirty dishes, the girls were put into the custody of Matron, a middle-aged woman with a kindly, but far from stupid, face, who arrived with a retinue of footmen bearing steaming vats of hot water. She combed the nits out of their hair and made them scrub themselves until they were pink and burning. As she soaped herself with an extravagant cake of scented soap, Temperance fought against enjoying it too much. She’d be of no use to the poor if she fell back into the blind self-indulgence of the wealthy, from which Randall had rescued her.
Then Matron gave each of the girls not one, but two serviceable new gowns. Clary and Becky were barely able to control themselves as they modeled their new finery to each other, squealing like piglets fresh from nursing. But this gift left Temperance unmoved. She’d found little happiness when she’d been dressed like a doll in the rich gowns her father had given her, for he hadn’t been able to see who she really was beneath the costly fabrics.
But she accepted them anyway, knowing they would give her something to pawn that would pay for the Weaver’s protection, as soon as she managed to get the girls out of here. If she could do it. Their dedication to the cause of liberty had never been as strong as hers, and when Matron left the girls to their own devices in a pretty parlor furnished with the latest novels and beautifully bound folio albums of prints, it struck her that it might be more difficult than she had thought to set them back on the path she’d chosen for them.
L ate that afternoon, their benefactress arrived to check on their progress. No sooner had she settled herself than Temperance cut through the pleasantries with which she greeted them, and demanded, as rudely as possible, “So, what are your rules?”
There were always rules. And whatever they were, she would break them.
“Rules?” Lady Hartwood repeated, cocking her head like a little bird and resting her chin on her hands, looking for all the world as if she had not hitherto considered such a topic. “Why, just the obvious. While you are under my protection, you must live within the law. There are those who would like to see the Refuge fail. If you behave like criminals, you’ll give them the pretext they need to shut it down.”
It was heartening to learn that the fledgling Refuge had its enemies.
“No stealing and no drunkenness,” Her Ladyship continued. “And I must ask you, also, not to entertain men within the walls of the Refuge. Such behavior is too easily misinterpreted. Beyond that, though, your private lives are your own affair.”
This was too easy. There had to be more. But at least Temperance knew now what she had to do to get herself kicked out.
After that, Lady Hartwood extracted from each of the girls the details of her birth, scribbling the information in a small notebook, and took her leave.
A few hours later, Lady Hartwood had called Becky into her office for a long confabulation. Temperance wondered if she’d pumped her friend for information about the rest of them. But whatever she’d said, it made Becky surprisingly reluctant to meet her eye, and as the day unfolded, a troubled look had flitted over the girl’s thin features more than once. She must keep a close eye on Becky to make sure Lady Hartwood’s meddling didn’t make her situation even worse than it already was.
The next day, Clary had been the recipient of Her Ladyship’s counsel. She, too, emerged from the chamber where Her Ladyship held court in a somber mood. Perhaps she really had expected to marry a duke. She wasn’t terribly bright. All Temperance could get out of her was that
After the servants had whisked away their dirty dishes, the girls were put into the custody of Matron, a middle-aged woman with a kindly, but far from stupid, face, who arrived with a retinue of footmen bearing steaming vats of hot water. She combed the nits out of their hair and made them scrub themselves until they were pink and burning. As she soaped herself with an extravagant cake of scented soap, Temperance fought against enjoying it too much. She’d be of no use to the poor if she fell back into the blind self-indulgence of the wealthy, from which Randall had rescued her.
Then Matron gave each of the girls not one, but two serviceable new gowns. Clary and Becky were barely able to control themselves as they modeled their new finery to each other, squealing like piglets fresh from nursing. But this gift left Temperance unmoved. She’d found little happiness when she’d been dressed like a doll in the rich gowns her father had given her, for he hadn’t been able to see who she really was beneath the costly fabrics.
But she accepted them anyway, knowing they would give her something to pawn that would pay for the Weaver’s protection, as soon as she managed to get the girls out of here. If she could do it. Their dedication to the cause of liberty had never been as strong as hers, and when Matron left the girls to their own devices in a pretty parlor furnished with the latest novels and beautifully bound folio albums of prints, it struck her that it might be more difficult than she had thought to set them back on the path she’d chosen for them.
L ate that afternoon, their benefactress arrived to check on their progress. No sooner had she settled herself than Temperance cut through the pleasantries with which she greeted them, and demanded, as rudely as possible, “So, what are your rules?”
There were always rules. And whatever they were, she would break them.
“Rules?” Lady Hartwood repeated, cocking her head like a little bird and resting her chin on her hands, looking for all the world as if she had not hitherto considered such a topic. “Why, just the obvious. While you are under my protection, you must live within the law. There are those who would like to see the Refuge fail. If you behave like criminals, you’ll give them the pretext they need to shut it down.”
It was heartening to learn that the fledgling Refuge had its enemies.
“No stealing and no drunkenness,” Her Ladyship continued. “And I must ask you, also, not to entertain men within the walls of the Refuge. Such behavior is too easily misinterpreted. Beyond that, though, your private lives are your own affair.”
This was too easy. There had to be more. But at least Temperance knew now what she had to do to get herself kicked out.
After that, Lady Hartwood extracted from each of the girls the details of her birth, scribbling the information in a small notebook, and took her leave.
A few hours later, Lady Hartwood had called Becky into her office for a long confabulation. Temperance wondered if she’d pumped her friend for information about the rest of them. But whatever she’d said, it made Becky surprisingly reluctant to meet her eye, and as the day unfolded, a troubled look had flitted over the girl’s thin features more than once. She must keep a close eye on Becky to make sure Lady Hartwood’s meddling didn’t make her situation even worse than it already was.
The next day, Clary had been the recipient of Her Ladyship’s counsel. She, too, emerged from the chamber where Her Ladyship held court in a somber mood. Perhaps she really had expected to marry a duke. She wasn’t terribly bright. All Temperance could get out of her was that
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