Chapter 16

The Angel of the Prisons

" M rs. Fry, it is a pleasure to meet you, and again, I apologise for the interruption."

"All is well, but perhaps in future, we may count on your support for our cause?"

Victor realised Elizabeth Fry was one shrewd customer. "Of course," he replied.

Before he knew it, Briana was standing before him with a confused expression upon her face. He quickly placed her hand upon his arm and ushered her out the door.

When he had found a private spot far enough from prying eyes, he said, "I do apologise for pulling you away from... ah... your church. But I came to... um..." Victor found himself at a loss for an excuse now that he was here. Before he could say anything else, Briana interrupted him.

"My lord is everything well?" she asked with genuine concern.

"Yes, everything is fine. I just—"

"What of your arm? Does it pain you?"

"My arm is fine; the wound is healing."

Briana placed the back of her palm across his forehead. "Are you running a fever?"

Victor clasped her hand and held it in his. "I am perfectly well. I do not have a fever, and I thank you for your concern."

"What of the two men? Did you manage to question them? What did they say?"

"Alas, they were released this morning by accident."

"Accident? But they tried to shoot you! How can that be? While they are at large, you remain unsafe!" she said.

"Miss Walsh—Briana—love, pray do not fret on my account. All is well."

She frowned at him. "Then might I enquire what you are doing here?"

"Ah, well, I was concerned for you, and once I discovered your whereabouts, I had to come immediately to ensure your safety."

"I thank you, but I can assure you I am safest with Elizabeth Fry, the Angel of the Prisons. Though on a more concerning note, how did you know I was here?"

"I stopped by your house earlier."

"Dash it all! That Renwick has quite the loose tongue!"

"It wasn't he, per se. He merely let it slip in passing."

"Well, now you have seen I am well, you need not remain. Perhaps I shall see you at a ball sometime soon."

"I'm certain you shall, but might I ask what you are doing here and how you became involved with the Quakers?"

" I joined Betsy's—I mean Mrs. Fry's—group a year ago for support, and now I cannot turn away."

"And what do you do here each week?" Victor asked, genuinely interested in the answer.

"Mrs. Fry is clergy in her own right. She provides spiritual teaching and also trains the women for vocations to help support themselves. She gives advice on many matters, including nutrition and hygene. She has made many changes for the better since she took an interest in Newgate and indeed the prisons throughout London."

"Yes, but why does that interest you?"

"Because the conditions in prisons are harsh for the families—for innocents. In case you are unaware, many of the children you see here are present through no fault of their own. Their parents are here; thus, they must live within these walls as well. It is the same at the Fleet."

Victor looked about and realized the place was indeed extremely dangerous. At any moment, Briana could be attacked or maimed in the midst of a riot. He shuddered to think what chances a small child had.

Still, he replied, "It is the way of the world, Briana. You cannot run about saving every child."

"If everyone thought as you do, nothing good would ever be achieved."

"And if everyone behaved as you, society would crumble. Perhaps their parents should have considered the consequences before breaking the law."

"Perhaps the punishment does not fit the crime, sir. Some are here for misdemeanours like stealing bread because they are starving. Yet they are placed alongside hardened criminals."

"Then they should do more to provide for themselves. An honest day's work never hurt anyone. It is not so difficult to follow rules, Miss Walsh."

Briana snorted. "Spoken like someone who has never starved a day in his life. What know you of an honest day's work?"

"I have done my fair share, Miss Walsh. I happen to manage a vast estate and several investments that bring in a relatively good yearly income."

"Yes, but who gave you that land and estate? How many years did you labour to gain it?"

"It was passed down from my grandfather."

"Ah, so your wealth existed before you were born."

"No, I had to work to maintain it."

"So it is you who tills the land and harvests the crops in the field to procure that income?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know how landed gentry derive their income. I have tenants."

"Precisely my point. Imagine for one moment, that you were not born a Cambridge but a common farmer, or a clerk, or a footman. Tell me, what would happen if, on your lowly wage, you found you could not feed your children or pay your debts? What would you do?"

"I certainly would not steal, nor would I ever default on repayments."

"Ah, but you see, you do not know that for certain because your morals have never been tested. All the scenarios I have mentioned are so foreign to you."

Victor bristled. He did not like the direction of the conversation or Briana's tone. Surely, she was wrong. "Briana, laws and morality are the cornerstone of a civilized society. To flout them would lead to chaos. Order and rules must be maintained at all costs, or society would fall."

"Then tell me, my lord, how is locking children in prison when they have committed no crime maintaining order? It is inhumane, plain and simple."

"Then who is to blame, Miss Walsh? Would you absolve every individual of all personal responsibility so they need never change their ways?"

"Not at all. I merely suggest that following rules and morals seems to be a privilege reserved only for the rich. It is easy to pass judgement on others when one lives a life of comfort and luxury."

"Are you insinuating I am a snob simply because I believe every person must adhere to societal rules, or there is no chance of social reform?"

"No, I am simply suggesting it is one thing to have rules and regulations, but if in their application they punish the innocent more than the guilty, perhaps it is the rule and not the individual that requires reform."

Victor stood and stared at Briana in shock because, much to his annoyance, the woman made an excellent point. How dare she? He had never thought of things in that way before. It troubled him because it had him questioning far more than he thought he ever would, especially his notion of right and wrong and everything running like clockwork in life.

Victor frowned. It seemed every day he discovered something new about her. For one thing she was intelligent, and he had never had anyone challenge him in such a way that made perfect sense. That made him slightly uncomfortable. "Very well, I concede your point," Victor replied.

Briana merely smirked at him, and it was a sucker punch to his gut—or more specifically, his groin. "I knew you would."

Lost in their discussion, they had wandered a fair distance from the others, and Victor decided they should turn back, as he did not like the darkened hallways they were venturing towards.

He was about to say something more when he felt an almighty shove against his back. In the next instant, Briana's hand was pulled away as she tumbled backward down a stairwell. She screamed, seeing the cobbled stone stairs rushing to meet her but never felt the impact. She realized Victor had her in his arms moments from disaster.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I know not. I felt someone come up behind us."

He whipped his head around, but there was no one there. "Right, that is it. We are leaving immediately! You will not come here again. That is final." He had her cradled in his arms with one swift move.

"You cannot tell me that. Put me down; I can walk."

"No! You're coming with me this instant."

Despite her protests, Briana found herself bundled off and out the front gates, then bundled into Victor's carriage. Alone, without a chaperone.

"I must tell Mrs. Fry, or she'll worry, and Mr. Mason is waiting for me."

Victor opened the door, spoke to a footman, then slammed it again. "They will be notified. Now, I'm taking you home, and there's to be no more discussion on it."

"Victor, please, there really is no need. Whatever happened in the prison must have been someone just playing games to frighten us."

"We don't know that for certain. I believe there was more to it than that."

"What do you mean? Do you think it has something to do with the shooting last night?"

"Possibly."

They were silent for a moment before Briana said, "Well? Are you going to tell me?"

"No, there is nothing to concern yourself about. I just feel better knowing we are away from that god awful place, and you are safe."

Briana eyed him warily, then she made a decision. She needed to trade some information in the hope he would open up as well. That would mean she needed to trust him a little. She took a deep breath and said, "I was at the rally that night in hopes of getting a message to a friend. That is why I was at Pinchbeck’s afterwards."

Victor was surprised. He had not expected her to divulge any information. But he went with it. "Does this friend of yours have a name?"

"Alas, it is not mine to give. He is in some sort of trouble, and I'd rather not betray that trust."

"Fair enough. I understand what it is like to keep secrets. I suppose I owe you an explanation about my protective behaviour."

Briana nodded for him to continue.

"Miss Walsh, I do not wish to alarm you, but I fear someone wishes me great harm, although the reasons are largely unknown to me. The men who attacked me would have shed more light on the matter, but they have disappeared."

"That is terrible! You should report this to the authorities. Perhaps you need guards." Briana clasped his hand, not realizing it.

Victor tightened his grasp and replied, "I already have guards. Several, in fact. They guard my home, and at times, if I have business in various parts of London, I take one with me."

"But why you? Do you have many enemies?"

Victor paused, trying to determine how to answer that. As a spy for the Crown, he had many enemies, but he was also hired discreetly. Instead, he gave half-truths. "In my line of work, I am often requested to do business with unscrupulous people. This most likely results from that."

"What are you going to do?" Briana asked with a worried frown. She was not certain why, but she did not want anything happening to Victor, even if he was annoyingly overbearing at times.

"I am going to investigate and try to get to the bottom of this." Victor was touched once again by how concerned Briana seemed about his welfare. She had also trusted him enough to tell him why she was at the rally and Pinchbeck’s. He had to admit his concern for her was deepening, especially after seeing her almost plunge to her death down a stairwell.

"Perhaps I could assist? I know a thing or two about investigations," Briana said.

"Absolutely not, Briana. I would hate for something to befall you because the men who are after me decided to strike out at you. Besides, this is something best left to men, given the dangerous nature."

Briana refrained from arguing, rather she acknowledged why Victor had reacted so strongly to any threat against her and why they were now in his carriage. Briana reached across and, with her finger, traced the worry lines on his brow. "Very well. I shall be more careful when out and about in society. I promise. You need not worry about me, Victor."

Victor gave her a soft smile and rasped, "That eases my worry a great deal."

There was that connection between them again, and Victor felt it acutely. They had talked and communicated, then come to an agreement. He settled back into the cushioned seat and just enjoyed the ride in companionable silence. It was that same feeling he had felt when he had danced with Briana at the first ball. There was a contented feeling just spending time together, and he knew Briana felt it too.

Victor was grinning by the time they neared Briana's townhouse until he saw carriages lining the streets and men waiting in line outside Briana's house, including Lord Faulkner.

"Not again!" he growled and scowled at the men. "What the devil are they all doing here?"

"Oh dear, I had quite forgotten. I believe some of them are here to propose marriage."

"Over my dead body!" he replied and encouraged his horses to keep going right past the house.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking you for an ice at Gunter's."

"Now? But there are callers at my house."

"That's quite all right; they'll be gone by the time we return. Be honest, Briana. Which would you prefer? Ice at Gunter's or sardine cake and gin-ade with that lot?"

"Very well, you've convinced me. But I need somewhere to freshen up a little; I look a frightful mess. I should also have a lady's maid with me."

"No matter. We can stop at my home, and I'll arrange for one of the servants to accompany us."

"I cannot enter your home without a chaperone. What will people think?"

"They won't know if you don't tell." He winked at her.

Briana was still trying to work out all the protocols and threats to her reputation when Victor said, "Miss Walsh, do you trust me to take care of you or not?"

"I... I am not certain... I mean, you've practically kidnapped me."

Victor burst out laughing then. "I will ask you again. Do you trust me to protect you?"

"I suppose so."

"Good. Then do not be alarmed. All will be well."

Two hours later, Briana could not agree more. Victor had indeed taken care of her in a discreet manner, even allowing her to change and freshen up in the washroom of his guest chamber. He had also found a maid to act as chaperone, and for the life of her, Briana had never enjoyed such a wonderful outing as ices at Gunter's with Victor Cambridge.