Chapter 21

21

1885

Matthew lay on the hard cot and stared at water stains on the ceiling of his jail cell. Cold air seeped in through the thin wool blanket covering him, and he shivered. The weight of worry had kept him awake most of the night, leaving him with a headache and gritty eyes.

Faint light filtered through the small dirty window above, alerting him that morning had arrived. They'd taken away his pocket watch, so he had no idea of the actual time. He rolled to his side and closed his eyes against the pounding in his head.

What now, Lord? I tried to do what's right and look where it's taken me. I don't understand.

He pondered that thought a few minutes, and the stories from the Bible of John the Baptist and the apostle Paul came to mind. They were good men who served the Lord, yet they were unjustly treated and had to spend time in prison. Should he expect anything less? Commitment to Christ and doing His will did not mean the road would always be smooth and he would never face trouble. He had taken a stand against evil, and that came at a great cost.

"McGivern, you've got visitors." The guard's gruff voice stirred him from his somber thoughts.

He sat up and glanced at the guard. "Who is it?"

"Your legal counsel and some other man. Come with me."

Matthew rose as the guard unlocked the cell. He straightened his shirt and brushed off his rumpled pants, then followed the guard down the hall. The guard opened a door and ushered him into a small room. Mr. Stead and Mr. Baldwin, the barrister on retainer for the Gazette , sat on the far side of a wooden table in the center of the room. They looked up and met his gaze as he entered. Mr. Baldwin's thoughtful expression reflected concern, while Mr. Stead narrowed his eyes and searched Matthew's face.

The guard nodded toward the table. "Take a seat. You have thirty minutes." He stepped back, but he remained in the room, beside the door.

Matthew sat across from Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Stead. "Thank you for coming."

Mr. Stead rested his arms on the table. "Well, Matthew, I heard a brief explanation from your friends last night. I've passed that on to Mr. Baldwin, but I'd like you to explain how you got yourself into this situation."

"Of course." Matthew recapped all that had happened since he'd realized Mr. Parker was the man selling girls to brothel owners. "But last night when I followed through with my plan to expose him, I was arrested instead."

"How did the police realize what you were doing?" Mr. Baldwin asked.

Matthew squinted toward the window. He'd spent a good part of last night trying to piece together how that had happened. "Mr. Parker must have contacted them. As soon as I gave him the money and started to leave with the girl, the police charged in and arrested me."

Mr. Stead drummed his fingers on the table. "Why did you put yourself in a situation like that? You should have spoken to me before trying something so ... I don't know if I should call it daring or foolish."

Matthew lifted his hands. "You told me to get out there and find the story! That's what I was doing."

Mr. Stead grimaced. "I didn't think you'd try something that would get you arrested!" He turned to the barrister. "Mr. Baldwin, can you straighten this out?"

The barrister's mouth turned down. "I'm afraid this is more complicated than I expected." He focused on Matthew. "You actually gave Mr. Parker money and accepted the girl?"

"Yes, but I took her no more than four steps before the police stopped me."

"You may have had honorable intentions, but technically, when you paid for that girl, you broke the law by procuring an underage child."

Frustration rose, and Matthew tightened his fists. "But I would never harm her. Reverend Howell and Mrs. Freemont were waiting in the carriage. They'll back up my story. I planned to turn the girl over to the reverend's care until Parker was arrested and the girl could safely return to the Foundling Hospital."

"Their statements may help, but it doesn't erase the fact you made the arrangement, paid for the girl, and took her into your custody."

Matthew closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "I did it to prove Parker was behind this scheme."

Mr. Baldwin nodded. "I understand, and I'll speak to those overseeing your case. Perhaps they'll release you on bond until your trial."

Matthew dropped his hand, his senses reeling. "There's going to be a trial?"

"I'm afraid so."

Matthew groaned. "I don't believe this. Why can't they see it's all a misunderstanding? And what about Parker? He's the one who should be arrested."

Mr. Stead huffed. "I doubt he's still in town."

Matthew's gut clenched. What had happened to Lillian's money? Had Parker turned it over to the police, or had he fled with all or part of it? How would Matthew repay Lillian? He'd failed to free her niece, and his plan to have Parker arrested had backfired and landed him in jail with a shameful accusation attached to his name. But worst of all, those evil men who bought and sold girls were still out there, plaguing the city and ruining young lives.

His father's scornful words rose and filled his mind. " You're a coward and a weakling . You'll never amount to anything." Maybe what his father had said was true. He clenched his jaw as painful regret seared his soul. There was no hope for a future with Lillian now. He would never be worthy of her.

Mr. Stead pulled a sheaf of paper from his leather case and laid it on the table with a pen and bottle of ink. "Even though you're locked up here, you still need to finish writing those articles."

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "You're not sacking me?"

"No, of course not! Your actions may have been impulsive, but I suppose when I was your age, I might have done the same thing."

Matthew straightened, a flicker of hope returning. He thought he'd ruined his career and would lose his position, but it seemed Mr. Stead was willing to give him another chance.

"The first article ran this morning. It's already causing a commotion. I have the draft of your second back at the office. I'll revise that so it's ready for the next edition. Then I'll be back here tomorrow, and I expect you to have finished the next article. Write about what happened at the Foundling Hospital! Stir up the debate and let them hear your side of the story."

"Yes, sir. I'll start working on it right away."

Mr. Baldwin rose. "I'll see what I can do, and I'll keep you informed."

"Thank you." Matthew shook hands with the barrister, then turned to his editor. "I appreciate your support, sir."

Mr. Stead clamped his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "You're a good man, Matthew. We'll see this through. When your motives become clear, I believe things will be set right."

Matthew's throat tightened, and he nodded his thanks.

Lillian clutched her reticule, trying to tamp down her anxiety as she walked down the hallway of the central police station with Reverend Howell. Their request to see Matthew had been denied, so they'd pressed on with their decision to ask the police to rescue Alice from the Lady's Slipper. Lillian glanced to the right and left as they passed several offices where policemen and detectives worked at their desks.

The officer leading the way stopped and knocked on a door. The name Detective Charles Wright was painted on the frosted window. A deep male voice called for them to enter.

The officer who had guided them down the hall opened the door. "There is a man and a woman here who say they have information about a missing girl."

"Bring them in." Detective Wright rose from behind his desk as Lillian and Reverend Howell entered. He looked them over with a serious expression. "Your names, please."

"I'm Reverend Benjamin Howell from Good Shepherd Church. And this is Mrs. Lillian Freemont of Eaton Square. We've come today about Mrs. Freemont's missing niece, Alice Dunsmore. She was also known as Mary Graham when she was at the Foundling Hospital."

The detective's forehead creased, and he motioned to the two chairs facing his desk. "Have a seat." They sat, and he focused on Lillian. "Your niece was in residence at the Foundling Hospital?"

"Yes, sir. My sister was unable to care for her daughter when she was an infant, so she placed her in the care of the Foundling Hospital. Alice is eight now. My sister recently came to live with me, so I went to the Foundling Hospital, hoping to reclaim her daughter, but the matron told me Alice had died as an infant." She hesitated, trying to think of how to explain the rest.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"The matron was not telling the truth, or she is mistaken, because another member of the staff told us Alice had been there until very recently and then disappeared."

He frowned. "Who told you she disappeared?"

Lillian relayed the cleaning woman's story, giving every detail she remembered.

Detective Wright cocked an eyebrow, looking doubtful.

"It's all true. We've done our own investigation, and we know my niece was sold to work at the Lady's Slipper in White Chapel."

He steepled his fingers and sent her a pitying look. "Mrs. Freemont, I know it must be distressing to learn your niece has passed away, but—"

Heat flashed into her face. "My niece is not dead! She is very much alive and trapped in that terrible place. Please, you must believe me. A man named Mr. Neil Parker at the Foundling Hospital is the one who sold her to whoever is in charge at the Lady's Slipper."

The detective studied them with a skeptical look.

Reverend Howell leaned forward. "Detective, are you aware of an incident at the Foundling Hospital last night?"

"No, I'm not."

Reverend Howell pulled in a deep breath. "One of our friends, Mr. Matthew McGivern, who is a journalist with the Pall Mall Gazette , went there, gathering information for the series of articles he—"

The detective lifted his hand. "You mean the man behind that scandalous article on the front page of this morning's edition?"

Reverend Howell sent Lillian a surprised glance, then turned back to Detective Wright. "Yes, he's the one writing the series."

Detective Wright glared at them. "That article is a pack of lies! We've followed every lead we've been given trying to find those missing girls. How dare he imply we've neglected our duty!"

Lillian's stomach plunged, and she swallowed hard.

"I only briefly scanned the article," Reverend Howell continued in a calm tone. "I'm not certain what he said about the police. But the point of our visit today is to ask you to rescue Mrs. Freemont's niece from the Lady's Slipper."

The detective jerked open his desk drawer and pulled out a pad of paper. "What's the girl's name?"

"Alice Dunsmore," Lillian said. "But the Foundling Hospital gives each child a new name, so she is known as Mary Graham." Lillian gave him the rest of the information they had collected. But she could tell by his grim expression that their association with Matthew had cast even more doubt on their story. Her spirits deflated as she watched him jot a few brief notes on the pad.

He set down his pen. "I have the information I need. We'll look into it, and I'll be in touch."

That was all he was going to say? Lillian glanced at Reverend Howell. How could they leave knowing the detective doubted their story?

Reverend Howell rose. "Thank you, Detective Wright. We appreciate your time."

Lillian stood. "I hope you'll do all you can to free my niece and return her to us."

The detective gave a brief nod, but he made no promise.

Hot tears burned Lillian's eyes as she followed Reverend How ell out of the office and continued down the hall. She suspected that Detective Wright hadn't promised his help because he didn't intend to put anything more than minimal effort into the case.

If her niece was going to be set free from that brothel, Lillian would have to find another way.

Lillian and Serena strolled down the oval path around the outskirts of Eaton Square Garden. Ellen walked ahead of them, twirling a small yellow flower between her fingers. Lillian had suggested a walk in the private garden across from her townhouse, hoping it would calm her anxious thoughts.

There had been no word from the police, Matthew, or his editor, though she'd asked Mr. Stead to keep her informed. Since she was not allowed to visit Matthew, she might not hear anything until he was released, or until his trial. A shiver raced down her back, though it was a warm, sunny afternoon. Please, Lord, let the truth come to light.

Serena turned toward her. "Lillian, did you hear me?"

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

Serena sent her an understanding look. "I asked if you think it's time to see about some new clothes for Ellen." Serena glanced away. "I thought we might wait until Alice comes, but I'm not sure how long that will be."

Pain twisted Lillian's heart. "Hopefully, it won't be much longer." She pressed down a surge of frustration as she recalled Detective Wright's response to their visit. She had kept most of those details from Serena and simply told her the police had been informed and said they would follow up.

She glanced at her sister. "I'll send a message to the dressmaker and ask when she can come to the house."

Serena nodded. "I'm sure Ellen will enjoy having some new clothes."

"Mrs. Freemont, hello!" A young blond woman in a stylish blue day dress and matching hat walked toward them. "I'm Anne Perrone. We met the day you gave a speech at the Montrose Women's League."

"Yes, of course. I remember you and your friend Elizabeth. It's nice to see you again."

"Thank you. I didn't realize you lived in Eaton Square. I'm visiting my brother George and his family. They live at number forty-two."

"We're at 124, just across the street."

Ellen wandered across the grass a few feet away, following a butterfly. Lillian kept an eye on her while listening to her friend.

Anne glanced around, then leaned toward Lillian. "Did you read the lead article in the Gazette this morning?" She raised her hand to her throat. "The situation in White Chapel is simply dreadful!"

Lillian's pulse surged as she recalled the contents of the article. She had purchased a copy of the Gazette on her way back from the police station and read the first part in the carriage. She'd shown it to Serena as soon as she'd arrived home, and they'd read all six pages. "It is heartbreaking to think of those who are suffering at the hands of evil men."

Anne shook her head. "Those poor women! That article read very much like one of Josephine Butler's speeches. I'm sure she will be up in arms about this. I hope it will make people realize how dreadful the situation truly is and convince the authorities to wake up and take action."

Serena turned to Anne. "You're speaking of finding the young girls who have been reported missing?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm talking about. Those poor girls!"

"My daughter is one of those missing girls."

Anne's eyes widened. "Oh no! How could that happen?"

Serena explained how Alice had been taken from the Foundling Hospital and that Matthew had gone to the Lady's Slipper but had been unable to free her daughter.

"My goodness! I'm terribly sorry. I hope she'll be returned to you very soon. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know. I'll be staying with my brother for another week."

"Thank you." Serena took out a handkerchief and wiped her damp eyes.

Anne reached for Serena and gave her a gentle hug. "I'll be praying for her and for you."

They said their good-byes, and Anne walked in the direction of her brother's house.

Serena turned to Lillian. "She is very kind."

"Yes, I felt a kinship with her the first time we met. Let's invite her for tea soon."

Ellen rejoined them, and they continued down the path a short distance. Lillian and Serena took a seat on one of the benches while Ellen knelt and looked for four-leaf clovers among the grass.

Lillian gazed across the park, contemplating Anne's comments about Josephine Butler. She'd never heard her speak in person, but she had read a few articles that summarized her inspiring talks. She was a woman of deep faith who courageously took a stand for the protection of women and girls, even though she knew she would face harsh criticism and sometimes even physical danger.

Perhaps it was time they took a lesson from Josephine Butler.

Matthew stared at the note from Mr. Baldwin, then read it again. His trial was set for the middle of June. He would not be released on bail before that time. He sighed, leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Why, Lord? I feel like I'm being hit with one blow after another.

He'd spent most of the previous day writing an account of the search for Lillian's niece and the incidents at the Foundling Hospital, giving Alice and her family fictitious names. He'd kept his article as factual as possible, but he felt certain he'd made his disgust clear that the true criminal had gotten away. He hadn't named Parker, but those familiar with the Foundling Hospital staff would know who he was describing.

Would the article finally motivate the police to investigate the situation and arrest Parker—if he was still in town? He hoped that would be the result, but doubts flooded his mind as he recalled the reaction of the detectives when he'd been questioned. No matter how many times he explained the situation, they didn't seem to believe what he said. In fact, they acted as if he was lying and deserved to be prosecuted for procuring an underage girl. He shook his head and pushed those troublesome thoughts away.

Mr. Stead had stopped by that morning and dropped off the latest issue of the Gazette . His second article in the series was featured on the front page and continued on page three.

He had not been allowed a visit with Mr. Stead. Instead, his editor had to pass the newspaper through the bars of his cell, then Matthew handed him the next article. He supposed he should be grateful they allowed that much. But it was hard to be thankful when the situation seemed so unjust.

He'd also given Mr. Stead a note for Lillian and asked him to make sure it was delivered as soon as possible. He prayed she would accept it and believe he was truly sorry for all that had happened. He told her he would repay the money and make things right as soon as he was able. But he had no idea when that might be.

Matthew scanned the brief note from Mr. Baldwin again, then rose and paced the short distance across his cell. Being confined and cut off from everyone was maddening. There was no way of knowing what Lillian was thinking or if she would ever speak to him again. His articles were finally published, but he had no idea if they were pushing those in power toward needed change, or if his words were simply tossed in the rubbish bin.

He lowered himself to his cot and rubbed his forehead. He had to keep working on his next articles. Pouring his thoughts into his writing seemed to be the only way to stay sane in these frustrating circumstances.

Help me, Lord. I know you have a message you want to get across. Give me the words you want me to say.

He picked up the paper and pen and began to write.