Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

" H e's ordering you back to the house," Iris said, slamming the letter down on the breakfast table.

It was the next morning, and she had just received a most unpleasant missive from her father.

Across the table from her, Violet and Rosalie looked at one another, then at her.

"Well, we have to go home, at some point," Violet pointed out. "We can't stay here forever."

"Everything will be better now," Rosalie added. "Father must know that the engagement has come to an end and that he isn't to cross His Grace again by promising us to someone like Lord Redfield."

"Father is cunning," Iris said, crossing her arms. "He'll find another way to punish you if he can't marry you off."

She glanced at the head of the table, where Phineas was watching this scene unfold. His expression was apprehensive.

"What else does he say in the letter?" he asked.

"Well, he's clearly furious," Iris huffed. "He said he discovered the broken engagement last night and that Lord Redfield told him, The men of the ton now know your daughters are under the protection of the Duke of Eavestone. "

Phineas, to her surprise, smirked. "Well, I'm glad he got the message," he said.

Violet and Rosalie laughed.

"All of you are taking this far too lightly!" Iris hissed, staring between her husband and her sisters with incredulity. "This is our father we're talking about. The man is not going to give up just because Lord Redfield is a craven who can't stand up to my husband." She glanced at Phineas and smiled apologetically. "Not that many could, of course."

He gave her a sardonic look. "Obviously."

"I understand your concern, Iris, I really do," Violet said. Beside her, Rosalie heaped another helping of porridge into her bowl. "I just don't know what the alternative is. We have to go home, eventually."

Iris sighed. She couldn't deny the truth of this statement. As much as she would have liked to keep her sisters with her forever, the truth was, their place was at their father's home.

"You are both welcome back whenever you'd like," Phineas assured.

"Really?" Iris looked at him in surprise. She hadn't gotten the impression he was overly fond of having his home invaded by two young ladies.

He frowned at her, as if he didn't understand the question. "Of course. They're your sisters."

Her heart fluttered uncomfortably, and she turned back to her sisters. "Please come back whenever Father becomes intolerable."

Rosalie made a face. "He's always intolerable. But all my things are at home… And he has promised to take me to Bond Street soon to get a new dress for my debut next year."

Iris couldn't feel any of the excitement that lit up Rosalie's face. The sooner Rosalie came out, the sooner their father could try to marry her off. Unless what he said was true, and the men of the ton knew that she was under the Duke's protection…

But even then, there might be some men who wouldn't be scared of Phineas. Men who would be willing to face his wrath if it meant making an alliance with her father and his profitable coal mines…

Iris was still thinking about this later as her sisters were packing their things. Phineas was in his study, and she took the opportunity to visit him there.

Knocking quietly on the door, she entered at the sound of his grunt of permission. He looked up as she entered, and a small, secret smile flitted across his lips. As it did, Iris realized that this was the third time she had seen her husband smile in the past day. Considering that he hadn't smiled once when she'd first met him, this was especially gratifying.

And truthfully, she felt a little flushed and warm as she smiled back. Last night, something seemed to have changed between them. She couldn't say what, exactly. All she knew was that as he'd held her in his arms the night before, she'd felt truly safe for the first time in her life.

"I had a thought," she said, approaching his desk, "at breakfast. We should visit my father's mines and see if they're really as profitable as he says they are."

Phineas set down his quill and rubbed his eyes. "You think we could get his investors to pull out if we prove he's lying about his profits? I wouldn't be surprised if he did manipulate the numbers, to be frank…"

"Yes." Iris nodded, excitement seizing her. "Or maybe we can prove the mines are too dangerous and get them shut down that way."

"I think it's worth a try," Phineas said. He cocked his head to the side and studied her. "Who knew that I'd end up with a wife far more clever than I am?"

"Well," Iris quipped, "I didn't know it was you, but I knew whoever I married would end up thinking as much."

An hour later, Violet and Rosalie had left back to their father's house, and Iris and Phineas were on their way to the mines. Fortunately, these mines were not located as far north as the rest of the Eavestone estate in North Yorkshire, but it would still be a day's journey to South Wales.

Iris felt invigorated by the trip, rather than exhausted by the prospect of a long day in the carriage. It was her first journey with her husband, and anyway, it felt good to be out doing something. Sitting around and waiting for her father to make a move only made her anxious. She wanted to be on the offensive, not the defensive.

It was late when they arrived in the small mining town of Cwm in Blaenau Gwen, and Phineas suggested they get some rest. After a hearty dinner of potatoes and steak and kidney pie at the local inn, they went straight to bed. It was the second night that Iris had shared a bed with her husband, but this time, she barely had a chance to feel excited or embarrassed, as she was so exhausted from the journey that she fell asleep right away.

The next morning, she and Phineas struck out for the mines, where they hoped they would be able to speak to some of the workers without provoking their employers' ire.

When they arrived at the mine, they were greeted by the foreman, a stout, ruddy-faced man with a large mustache called Mr. Greaves.

"A pleasure to meet you," Phineas said, shaking his hand. "I am the Duke of Rhinebeck."

The foreman's eyes widened, and he wasn't the only one. Iris also had to hide her surprise. The Duke of Rhinebeck was one of her father's most illustrious allies, and one of the few Phineas didn't seem hell-bent on ruining. From everything Iris had heard about him, he was a man of honor, despite his association with her father.

Father has always been able to be charming when he needed to...

"Your Grace!" the foreman sputtered, bowing low. "It is an honor to have you visit our mines. His Lordship has told me you are an investor of the soundest judgment. I hope that you will be impressed today by our little operation."

"I have no doubt I will be," Phineas said graciously. "And this is my wife, the Duchess of Rhinebeck. She will also be touring the mines today."

The foreman couldn't quite keep the disapproval from his face as he bowed to Iris. "Her Grace will be accompanying us?" he asked uncertainly.

"My wife is the one with the most astute judgment," Phineas explained smoothly. "Without her, I would have made many unwise investments."

Iris couldn't help but smile. She liked this version of her that Phineas painted.

"Very well," the foreman said reluctantly. "But I should warn you, it is not a pleasant place for ladies."

He wasn't wrong about that.

Iris had never thought of herself as a particularly fearful person. After all, she'd had to be brave to protect her sisters from their father for all those years. But as the door to the cage that would take them down to the mines closed, and the pulley system jerked and began to carry them down into the darkness, she felt fear creeping up her spine.

She determinedly didn't take Phineas's hand, but she barely breathed for the whole journey down into the mine. Once they had reached the bottom and the door was pulled open, her fear only grew.

"The tunnels are very low," Mr. Greaves informed them as they exited the cage. "You'll have to crouch in order to walk."

Phineas glanced at Iris, but she shook her head. "I'll be fine," she murmured.

Crouching, she stepped out of the cage. All around her was thick dust, and immediately, her eyes watered. Her lungs burned, and she coughed loudly.

It was very dark in the mines, but the men were carrying lanterns. These illuminated just a little ahead of her so that she was able to make out turns just as she reached them, but they also cast large shadows on everything, which made the tunnels more spooky.

Meanwhile, the sound of hammers hitting coal was all around them, reverberating through her head. After a quarter of an hour crawling through the tunnels, Iris felt as if the sound had seeped into her, rattling her very bones.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Phineas whispered to her as they crept along another dark, damp tunnel. In the torchlight, his eyes looked soft and worried.

"I'm not as fragile as I look," Iris muttered back.

Truthfully, she was afraid. She felt it would be unbearably inconsiderate to admit that, especially when she'd been here for only a few minutes, while the miners had spent most of their lives down here.

Phineas smiled slightly. "Of that, I was already certain."

Then they turned a corner, and a horrifying sight met her eyes. Men were hunched over, their hammers raised, chipping away at the coal inside the tunnels. Their faces had turned completely black from the coal dust that filled the air. In between the sounds of their hammers, she could hear their hacking coughs, which seemed to accompany every single one of their movements.

Worse still were the people who were running back and forth, stacking the coal into wheelbarrows and then wheeling them away, to somewhere, she assumed, where the coal was lifted up into the daylight. The people running these wheelbarrows were?—

"Children!" she gasped.

It was unmistakable. Children were scurrying back and forth, covered from head to toe in soot, coughing and squinting through the dark to see where they were going. The one closest to her, who was stacking coal into a wheelbarrow, looked as if he couldn't be more than seven years old.

"Those are children," she said to the foreman, who was holding his lantern up high to inspect the work.

"Yes, Your Grace," he confirmed, nodding disinterestedly. "Children are the ideal height to run the coal, as they don't have to bend over in the tunnels. They can move quickly. See? They don't have the strength to hammer, though," he added, shaking his head, as if it caused him much grief to think he couldn't employ children for every task in his mine. "It's a right shame because we can pay them a pittance compared to the adults. The mines would be a whole lot more profitable if we could have children hammer. But, alas, it just ain't possible."

"Yes, what a shame you can't exploit children even more abominably than you have their parents," Iris snapped.

The foreman gaped at her, clearly shocked by her words. Then his face reddened.

"Excuse me, Your Grace," he snarled, "but if your husband means to invest, you should be thankin' us that we have found such clever means to cut costs. Do you know how much it costs to keep this mine goin'? It's a fortune, and every chance we get to save money and make more for our shareholders, we take it."

Iris felt a sick feeling rise in her stomach, and she had just opened her mouth to give the foreman a piece of her mind when Phineas put a hand on her elbow. Jerkily, she turned to stare at him. Very subtly, he shook his head no . Iris shut her mouth and turned away from the foreman as best she could, making her way, crouched down, over to one of the children close by.

"Forgive Her Grace," she heard Phineas say. "She has a soft heart."

"I think it very unwise to allow a lady down into the mines," the foreman grunted. "Especially a duchess."

She didn't hear Phineas's response. The child near her had just looked up, and the pain in his eyes was enough to erase every other thought from her head.

"Are you all right?" she asked, reaching out a hand instinctively.

The child flinched and leaned away from her.

"I won't hurt you," she soothed, lowering her voice to a soft whisper. "My name is Iris. What's yours?"

The child looked up at her with big, uncertain eyes, and she smiled.

"Thomas," he mumbled and then looked back down at the ground.

"It's nice to meet you, Thomas," Iris said firmly. "I was wondering if you could tell me how old you are."

"I'm ten, Milady," he replied, his eyes still downcast.

He must have heard her accent and realized she was from the peerage. Iris's heart ached. Even down here in the dark and misery of the mines, this little boy had to treat her as if she were his superior. Worse still, she knew there were some people —people like her father—who would be offended that he hadn't used the correct honorific. It was then that Iris felt a stirring of hatred in her chest for her father and all those who exploited the vulnerability of others, especially children.

"And how old were you when you started working here?" she asked.

"Eight, Milady."

"Eight?!" Iris felt her blood boil, but she tried to keep her voice calm and steady. "And are you treated well here?"

At last, Thomas looked back up. But instead of looking at her, he glanced over her shoulder to where the foreman was still speaking to Phineas. His expression was fearful.

"Yes, Milady," he mumbled.

Iris leaned a little closer so that their foreheads were almost touching. "You can tell me the truth," she whispered. "My husband is very powerful, and if you say you are treated poorly, he can make things better for you."

Thomas swallowed and shook his head. "I ain't treated bad, Milady. Mr. Greaves is good to us."

Feeling that the boy would not speak ill of the foreman while he was so close, Iris changed tactics. "And the dust down here, does it not bother you?"

"I get sick a lot," Thomas admitted, his voice lowering slightly. "And Ma says it's from the coal dust. I cough up blood sometimes."

"That's terrible!" Iris gasped. "Have you seen a doctor?"

"We can't afford a doctor, Milady," Thomas mumbled, looking back down at his toes.

"Even with the extra wages you make working here?"

"Ma takes me to the local healer," he said. "Soon I'll be old enough to go to London and work in a factory. Ma says that will be better for my lungs."

Iris gaped at him. "But you'd have to leave your family."

"The factories give us room and board," Thomas said, shrugging. "I just want to help my family. Pa can't work anymore ever since his injury on the farm…"

Just then, he began to cough. It was a hacking cough, so powerful that it shook his whole body. He raised a hand to cover his mouth, and Iris saw the tears that had sprung to his eyes. It took everything in her not to reach out and take him in her arms.

"I should get back to work," he wheezed, once he finished coughing.

"Thank you for speaking with me," Iris said reluctantly. "It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Milady." Thomas bobbed his head, grabbed the end of his wheelbarrow, and turned away from her. Soon, he had disappeared around a bend in the tunnel.

Iris watched him go with a knot in her stomach. She had never felt so much anger in her life, except perhaps when her father had promised Violet to Lord Redfield. The injustice of it was infuriating.

This was what her father did, over and over again—he exploited children. First her, with his threats of marriage to vile older men, then Violet, by promising her to Lord Redfield as a means of punishing Iris, and throughout it all, these little boys, who should have been out enjoying their childhoods, not working in dark, dangerous mines.

Iris was quiet for the rest of the tour. Phineas remained calm and cool, talking to the foreman politely, asking questions and making comments about the possible pros and cons of investing. He didn't so much as glance at her, even though she was sure he had seen the dark, angry expression on her face.

Doesn't he care that we are surrounded by so much human misery?

Didn't he care that she was on the verge of tears? Didn't he care about anything other than his revenge?

By the time they emerged from the mines half an hour later, Iris was incensed at the world and all the powerful men who controlled it, including her husband. Her rage fueled her purpose. Never in her life had she been so determined to take down her father—and shut down his mining operations once and for all.