information.”
“Well, then that’s what you do. If he’s as smart as you suspect, maybe the facts will get to him. He’ll see the sense in working with us rather than against us.”
“How would I do that?”
“You’re a woman. You’ll think of something. Or he will.” He winked.
“Graham Gowan,” Ma said. “You’ll turn your only girl into a trollop for the union.”
“I’ll do no such thing, woman.”
“Bad enough you have her mixed up in the whole circus.” The pace of Ma’s stitches never slowed.
“I do it because I want to,” Polly said to them both.
“So he’s a handsome devil, then?”
“Da!”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll watch my tongue, girl. You know I wouldn’t have you walking this line if it wasn’t important. Just . . . be careful.”
“I know, Da.” She swallowed. “I’ll do my best.”
Her mother scowled. “None of this will be fitting for much longer. You’ll be one-and-twenty soon and in need of a husband. You can bet your wages no man in his place will want a wife from Calton.”
That hard, true assessment stung under Polly’sskin. So dismayed, she was almost thankful for her father’s next fit of coughing, if only as a distraction. But not really. This time his face shaded toward purple and his rough hands gripped the edge of the table. Ma rushed over from the fireplace to rub his back, while Polly drew water from a pitcher.
Agonizing minutes later, Da finally regained his breath. Ma helped him to their pallet, both of their backs slightly bowed.
Fifteen-year-old Wallace turned over on his mattress. Hair a shade brighter than Polly’s deeper red stood out from his scalp in disheveled spikes. His pale, freckled skin fairly glowed in the dark. “What happened?”
“Go back to sleep,” Ma said softly.
Polly watched the scene as if outside of herself. A single room for five people. Kitchen and living space and a bedroom, all smashed into one space. The familiar, age-old sense of indignation fizzed under her breastbone. No one on the planet worked harder than her family, unless you counted the neighbors next door and the neighbors beyond them. They were happy together, content and full of easy laughter.
But they deserved more. Justice, at the very least.
“Polly,” called her father.
She met him at the wide pallet he shared with Ma. The gasping purple had faded, leaving him nearly as wan as the gray-tinged sheets. Wisps of silver hair stuck out from his head, which was otherwise bald. “Yes, Da?”
“Do what you can to bring Christie round to ourways. If that means letting him take a closer look at our lives, that’s what you do. Keep him occupied while you learn who did this. You need to find out before he does, or there’ll be no holding the police at bay.”
“Wouldn’t that be like letting a spy into our midst?”
“It’s either that or let a grand chance slip away. If he feels we’re being accommodating, maybe he’ll keep from getting the constables involved, and work to change the other masters’ minds.” He coughed again but repelled Ma’s attempt to keep him still and quiet. “I’ll sleep once I’ve said my piece, woman. You listening, girl?”
He wore that quirky expression that always made her lighter inside. He teased her while putting all his faith in her. Polly smiled. “Can’t help it with you shouting so.”
The merriment in his eyes was brighter than she’d seen in weeks. “That’s my Polly. It’s been four years since the last change in management. We have a chance with a new master. Do what you can.”
“I will, Da. I promise.”
Julian Bennett was a very large, very uncouth man with more money than sense. In the modest library in Alex’s leased home, Bennett sat on the other side of the desk and sipped his second Scotch. He cleared his throat after each swallow. Perhaps a nervous condition? But he hardly seemed nervous. Born to a disgraced baron and a Welsh whore, he was proposing to buy out Christie
“Well, then that’s what you do. If he’s as smart as you suspect, maybe the facts will get to him. He’ll see the sense in working with us rather than against us.”
“How would I do that?”
“You’re a woman. You’ll think of something. Or he will.” He winked.
“Graham Gowan,” Ma said. “You’ll turn your only girl into a trollop for the union.”
“I’ll do no such thing, woman.”
“Bad enough you have her mixed up in the whole circus.” The pace of Ma’s stitches never slowed.
“I do it because I want to,” Polly said to them both.
“So he’s a handsome devil, then?”
“Da!”
He squeezed her hand. “I’ll watch my tongue, girl. You know I wouldn’t have you walking this line if it wasn’t important. Just . . . be careful.”
“I know, Da.” She swallowed. “I’ll do my best.”
Her mother scowled. “None of this will be fitting for much longer. You’ll be one-and-twenty soon and in need of a husband. You can bet your wages no man in his place will want a wife from Calton.”
That hard, true assessment stung under Polly’sskin. So dismayed, she was almost thankful for her father’s next fit of coughing, if only as a distraction. But not really. This time his face shaded toward purple and his rough hands gripped the edge of the table. Ma rushed over from the fireplace to rub his back, while Polly drew water from a pitcher.
Agonizing minutes later, Da finally regained his breath. Ma helped him to their pallet, both of their backs slightly bowed.
Fifteen-year-old Wallace turned over on his mattress. Hair a shade brighter than Polly’s deeper red stood out from his scalp in disheveled spikes. His pale, freckled skin fairly glowed in the dark. “What happened?”
“Go back to sleep,” Ma said softly.
Polly watched the scene as if outside of herself. A single room for five people. Kitchen and living space and a bedroom, all smashed into one space. The familiar, age-old sense of indignation fizzed under her breastbone. No one on the planet worked harder than her family, unless you counted the neighbors next door and the neighbors beyond them. They were happy together, content and full of easy laughter.
But they deserved more. Justice, at the very least.
“Polly,” called her father.
She met him at the wide pallet he shared with Ma. The gasping purple had faded, leaving him nearly as wan as the gray-tinged sheets. Wisps of silver hair stuck out from his head, which was otherwise bald. “Yes, Da?”
“Do what you can to bring Christie round to ourways. If that means letting him take a closer look at our lives, that’s what you do. Keep him occupied while you learn who did this. You need to find out before he does, or there’ll be no holding the police at bay.”
“Wouldn’t that be like letting a spy into our midst?”
“It’s either that or let a grand chance slip away. If he feels we’re being accommodating, maybe he’ll keep from getting the constables involved, and work to change the other masters’ minds.” He coughed again but repelled Ma’s attempt to keep him still and quiet. “I’ll sleep once I’ve said my piece, woman. You listening, girl?”
He wore that quirky expression that always made her lighter inside. He teased her while putting all his faith in her. Polly smiled. “Can’t help it with you shouting so.”
The merriment in his eyes was brighter than she’d seen in weeks. “That’s my Polly. It’s been four years since the last change in management. We have a chance with a new master. Do what you can.”
“I will, Da. I promise.”
Julian Bennett was a very large, very uncouth man with more money than sense. In the modest library in Alex’s leased home, Bennett sat on the other side of the desk and sipped his second Scotch. He cleared his throat after each swallow. Perhaps a nervous condition? But he hardly seemed nervous. Born to a disgraced baron and a Welsh whore, he was proposing to buy out Christie
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