Chapter 19

19

1885

Matthew climbed down from the carriage and looked up at the coachman. "I should only be a few minutes. Please stay with the carriage and watch over Mrs. Freemont and Reverend Howell."

The coachman touched his cap. "Yes, sir."

Matthew strode across the road to the Foundling Hospital's back gate, his thoughts focused on his upcoming conversation with Parker. The most important point was to maintain his story and get the girl safely away.

The gate had been left open, and one gas lamp glowed near the back door, lighting his path. Matthew approached and knocked four times as he'd been instructed in Parker's note.

Only a few seconds passed before the door opened a few inches, and Parker looked out. He narrowed his eyes and scanned the path behind Matthew. "You're alone?"

Matthew nodded.

"You have the money for the girl?" It was odd that Parker didn't bother lowering his voice. But no one else seemed to be around.

"I'd like to see her first."

Parker scowled. "Don't trust me, eh?"

"I'd like to be sure of what I'm paying for."

Parker turned and pulled a young blond girl around in front of him. Fear filled her eyes, and her chin trembled as she looked up at Matthew.

His gut clenched, and his anger simmered. He forced down his response, reached into his suitcoat pocket, and pulled out the envelope. "Here's the money."

Parker took the envelope and leafed through the stack of bills inside, his lips moving as he counted. He looked up and nodded. "You can take her."

Matthew held out his hand, but the girl didn't move.

"Go on, Susan." Parker pushed the girl forward.

"No!" The girl's voice rose in a frightened cry.

Matthew placed his arm around her shoulder and guided her down the path, away from Parker. "It's all right," he whispered. "You've nothing to fear. You'll be well cared for."

They'd only gone a few steps when he heard tramping feet beyond the gate. A second later, several men burst from behind the wall and poured through the open gateway. He tightened his arm around the girl's shoulder.

"Stop right there!" one man shouted, lifting a lantern.

Matthew squinted against the bright light and lifted his hand to shade his eyes. "What is going on?"

Two men rushed forward. "Drop your hold on the girl!"

Matthew sucked in a breath. They were policemen!

"You're under arrest!" One of them hustled forward and grabbed the girl away from Matthew. She cried out, then whimpered.

"Put your hands in the air!" A tall officer strode toward Matthew. He raised his lamp, and light flickered off the silver buttons on his uniform.

Matthew shook his head. "You've got the wrong man." He pointed over his shoulder toward the building. "Parker is the one you want. He's been selling young girls to brothels."

The policeman glared at him. "Is that right?" His mocking tone was filled with disgust.

"Yes! I'm a journalist from the Pall Mall Gazette . I'm writing a series about the disappearance of several girls."

The policeman huffed out a scornful laugh. "Put your hands behind your back."

"I'm telling the truth! Parker sold several girls, and I intend to expose what he's been doing."

"Save your story for the judge."

Matthew clenched his jaw as cold steel clamped around his wrists. The officer took hold of his upper arm and hustled him toward the gate.

A fearful cry pierced the night.

The hair rose on Lillian's neck. She gripped the seat and leaned toward the carriage window. "What was that?"

"I don't know." Reverend Howell joined her.

Lillian scanned the dark road near the Foundling Hospital's back gate. A glowing lantern appeared, and several dark forms moved through the open gateway. She gasped. "Are those policemen?"

Reverend Howell reached for the door handle. "I'll go see what's happened."

"I'm coming with you." Lillian followed him out of the carriage.

Ben Fields jumped down from the driver's seat and pointed toward the stone wall. "Look, there's a police wagon parked down the road behind those trees."

Lillian grabbed up her skirt and started across the road. Just then, two policemen strode out the gateway, hauling Matthew between them.

Fear shot through her. "Matthew!" She ran toward him, followed by Reverend Howell.

"Stay back!" One of the policemen holding Matthew lifted his lantern higher. "This man is under arrest."

Lillian froze in the middle of the road, her heart pounding. This couldn't be happening!

"You've made a mistake!" Reverend Howell called. "Release him at once. Mr. McGivern has done nothing wrong!"

"Procuring an underage girl is a crime."

"That's not what he's doing!" Reverend Howell continued. "He is a journalist with the Gazette , covering a story."

The policeman shook his head, and the two officers holding Matthew started down the road toward the police wagon.

Lillian shot Reverend Howell a panicked glance. They had to stop them! She couldn't let them arrest Matthew for a crime he didn't commit.

"I'm Reverend Benjamin Howell from Good Shepherd Church. I can vouch for Mr. McGivern's good character. This was all done to prove Mr. Parker is selling young girls to anyone willing to pay, no matter what their intentions might be. Mr. McGivern is exposing evil, not perpetrating it!"

"That's the truth!" Lillian insisted. "I assure you, Mr. McGivern's intentions are honorable."

Please, Lord! Make them listen and realize Matthew is innocent!

Matthew and the policemen reached the wagon. They opened the back door and lowered a step. "In you go." They pushed him toward the wagon, and he mounted the step and climbed inside.

Lillian's heart sank as they closed and locked the door. "Oh, Matthew!"

He looked out the barred window, with a grave, hollow-eyed stare. "Go to my editor, Mr. Stead. Tell him what's happened." The wagon lurched, then rolled down the road.

"You're in the right," Reverend Howell called. "We'll see that you're freed!"

Lillian stared after them, frozen to the spot. "I don't understand. How could this happen? No one knew what we'd planned."

Reverend Howell turned toward her. "No one except Mr. Parker. He must have informed the police."

Lillian's pulse surged. "He must have planned this to take the focus off himself!"

Reverend Howell gave a grim nod. "It appears so."

Lillian spun toward the Foundling Hospital. "We've got to stop him."

She'd only gone two steps before Reverend Howell pulled her back. "He's a clever man and very dangerous. We shouldn't try to deal with him on our own."

"But we can't let him get away with this."

"Our best course is to do as Matthew asked—go to his editor and seek his help to straighten this out."

A surge of anger blazed through Lillian, heating her face and tightening her throat. Matthew shouldn't have been arrested. Mr. Parker and all those dreadful men who bought and sold girls for evil purposes ought to be the ones behind bars—not the gallant and brave man she loved!

The realization echoed through her heart, ringing true. No matter the risk or challenges ahead, she loved him, and she would not let him fight this battle alone. He didn't deserve such dreadful treatment. She would not rest until she had done all she could for him. Her thoughts spun as she strode back to the carriage.

Ben Fields opened the door for her. "Home, madam?"

"No. Take us to the office of the Pall Mall Gazette on Fleet Street."

Reverend Howell shot her a surprised glance. "Do you think there will be anyone there at this late hour?"

"I believe they print the morning edition at night. Perhaps we can find someone there who can tell us how to contact the editor."

Thirty minutes later, the carriage arrived at the front door of the Gazette . Lillian looked out at the building, and her spirits sank. The windows were dark, and it looked as though everyone had gone home for the night.

Reverend Howell leaned out the window. "Mr. Fields, drive around the building and see if there is a side or back entrance." He turned toward Lillian. "Perhaps the pressroom is in the rear."

Lillian nodded and watched out the window as the carriage rounded the corner. Light shone through several windows near a loading dock at the back of the building. "Look, there's an open door!"

The coachman pulled the carriage to the side of the street, and Reverend Howell and Lillian climbed out. A loud mechanical sound filled the air as they mounted the steps and approached the rear entrance. Inside, massive presses roared as newspapers shot through the huge machines.

A tall, thin man wearing a stained apron over his clothes strode toward them, shaking his head. He motioned to the door, urging them back outside. The noise of the presses was so loud there was no possibility of speaking to him, so they did as he indicated.

He followed them out and closed the door. "No one is allowed in the pressroom. It's not safe."

"We understand," Reverend Howell said. "But there is an emergency, and we need to contact Mr. Stead."

The pressman frowned. "What kind of emergency?"

"One of the Gazette journalists is in trouble, and he asked us to contact Mr. Stead."

The man rubbed his chin. "Which journalist? Who are you talking about?"

Reverend Howell turned to Lillian, a look of uncertainty in his eyes.

Lillian stepped forward. "Please, sir, we must deliver the message to Mr. Stead tonight. It's an urgent matter. Would you kindly tell us where he lives?" She used her sweetest tone. "We'd be ever so grateful, and so will Mr. Stead when he receives the message."

His expression softened. "Well, I suppose I can find out for you."

"Oh, thank you so much. You're very kind."

The man's face turned ruddy. He nodded and quickly walked back inside.

Less than three minutes later, the pressman returned and handed Lillian a folded piece of paper. "Here you go."

Lillian nodded. "Thank you."

"Yes, thank you," Reverend Howell added.

Lillian and Reverend Howell quickly descended the steps and crossed to the carriage. She handed the paper to her coachman. "Can you take us to this location?"

He read the note and scratched his chin. "I think I know the street." He held the door for her as she climbed in and took a seat.

Reverend Howell joined her and checked his pocket watch. "It's past eleven o'clock. Perhaps we should wait until morning."

"Matthew asked us to contact his editor. I believe the sooner we do so, the better."

But as the carriage rumbled down the dark street, her head throbbed, and her stomach swirled. Would Mr. Stead answer his door at this time of night, or was this journey a fool's errand?

Faint candlelight glowed from the front windows of Mr. Stead's townhouse on St. Margaret Street. Lillian released a shaky breath and turned to Reverend Howell. "It looks as though he might still be awake."

"It's worth a try." They left the carriage, and Reverend Howell knocked on the front door.

Seconds later, the door creaked open a few inches, and an older man carrying a candle and wearing a nightcap and robe looked out. "It's nearly midnight. Who are you? What do you want?"

"We are sorry to disturb you, sir. I'm Reverend Benjamin Howell, and this is Mrs. Lillian Freemont. We're here to bring a message from Matthew McGivern."

Mr. Stead straightened. "A message from Matthew? What happened?"

Reverend Howell glanced at Lillian.

She turned to the editor. "I'm afraid Matthew has been arrested."

Mr. Stead pulled the door open wider. "Come in and explain yourselves."

Reverend Howell and Lillian entered. Mr. Stead muttered under his breath as he led them into his sitting room. A lantern on the side table spread a little light, and flickering flames in the fireplace added a bit more.

Mr. Stead turned to them, his expression grim. "Sit down and tell me what Matthew has done."

Reverend Howell lowered himself into the nearest chair. "Let me begin by assuring you Matthew has been falsely accused."

"He must have done something, or he wouldn't have been arrested," Mr. Stead huffed, plopping into the overstuffed chair opposite Reverend Howell.

Lillian sat on the sofa. "Matthew went to the Foundling Hospital hoping to prove a man employed there is selling girls to work in brothels, but the man turned the tables on Matthew...." She poured out the rest of the story, detailing all that had happened that evening and ending with Matthew being taken away by the police.

Mr. Stead narrowed his eyes, looking at her more closely. "So you're the woman whose niece has gone missing from the Foundling Hospital."

"Yes, sir. Matthew has been a great help in the search. In fact, in an earlier conversation, he convinced Mr. Parker to divulge who purchased my niece and where she's been taken."

Stead shifted on his chair. "He knows where she is?"

"Yes. He went there disguised as a deliveryman a few days ago, hoping to free her, but two men who work there threatened him and chased him away."

Mr. Stead rose, clasped his hands behind his back, and paced across the room. "I knew he was searching for the girl, but I didn't realize he'd actually found her."

"He did, sir. She told him her name, confirming her identity."

"She's still at the brothel?"

"Yes, sir, belowstairs at the Lady's Slipper in White Chapel."

Mr. Stead nodded, and his grim expression eased. "This might turn out for the best after all."

Lillian stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"When Matthew writes about this, it will cause a firestorm! And the sooner the better!"

Lillian sent him an uncertain look. "You want Matthew to write while he's in jail?"

"Of course. He's a journalist! Being wrongly accused in his efforts to free a young girl from a brothel can be the focus of his next article! It will show how far we're willing to go to confront evil! It's sure to gain sympathy and bring even more attention to the series."

An uneasy look crossed Reverend Howell's face. "But Matthew's been falsely accused. He must be exonerated."

"Of course, of course. The Gazette keeps a barrister on retainer for legal matters. I'll speak to him first thing in the morning and see what can be done. While we wait, Matthew can continue writing the series from his jail cell." Mr. Stead gazed into the fire. "This might be the stroke of luck we need."

Lillian stared at him. How could he say that? She'd seen Matthew's face as he'd been hauled away by those policemen. Being arrested for a crime he did not commit was not only unfair, but also deeply distressing.

Bile rose and singed her throat. Would Mr. Stead do all he could to free Matthew, or would he take his time, hoping the story of Matthew's unjust arrest would sell more newspapers? He seemed more interested in creating a sensation and swaying public opinion than in clearing Matthew's name and securing his release.