"Open the side door fer me, miss!"
Genie hustled down to the servants' entrance, being careful to stay out of sight. She opened the door and let in the errant Jem, his long hair a tangled mess, his feet still without shoes.
"I gots a message fer ya." The lad puffed out his chest.
"Who is this from and how have you come to be a messenger?"
"I don't know the swell. But he found me watching the house fer ya and tipped me a crown to give you this." The urchin handed Genie a folded letter.
"Watching for me? Whatever for?"
"Yous was right nice to me," said the lad with simple admiration in his eyes.
Genie's heart was softened instantly to the child. Had he never known kindness? She gave him a smile and turned to the letter. The note was brief and won a smile from Genie.
"Does ya have a reply? I'm supposed to wait fer a reply."
"Yes, tell your gentleman friend I shall meet him tomorrow. Now tell me Jem, have you eaten supper tonight?"
Jem's eyes got large and he licked his lips. "No, milady," he whispered.
"Let us do something about that, shall we?"
Jem followed Genie into the kitchen. At once, Genie knew she did not belong downstairs. This was the servants' territory. Yet she knew she must feed the child, so she walked bravely into the heart of the servants' domain.
The servants were sitting around the table having tea and biscuits. A fire burned cheerfully in the fireplace and a groomsman played a jaunty tune on a fiddle. Everything stopped when she walked into the room. The servants all stood swiftly to their feet.
"Please, continue, do not stand on my account," said Genie, heat rising in her cheeks.
"What can we help you with, Miss Talbot?" asked the butler with polite disregard.
"I merely wished to ask for some supper for this boy who … " Genie was about to say he had given her a message but swallowed it back down. No one was supposed to know about that, hence the importance of using a small child instead of delivering it through the post.
"He has been a help to me. Is there some supper we could provide?" asked Genie.
No one moved, but everyone eyed the filthy creature with suspicion. "This is a Christian household, Miss Talbot," said Mrs. Grady, the housekeeper. "That boy does not belong in a respectable house."
"Yes, I'm sure you are right. Jem here is hardly respectable. But since this is a Christian household, should we not do our duty to feed the hungry and clothe the needful?"
"You want us to clothe him too? It won't do no good wi' him so filthy."
"It would be nice to provide him with clothes too, thank you for that suggestion. Would there be anything that could be used for that purpose while we get him something to eat?"
Despite the looks of reproach sent her from the various members of the household staff, Genie stood firm. Eventually, the housekeeper relented and barked out succinct orders to have the miscreant fed and clothed. Genie insisted the boy wash his hands and face before being fed, and he surprised the company by being covered in freckles, which had been concealed by the general grime. His arms and legs were scrawny and hung loosely from his body like a limp marionette.
Jem was excited about the prospect of cold ham, bread, biscuits, and tea, eating more than Genie thought a young boy could inhale. He was less excited about putting on a pair of old children's shoes one of the housemaids found in the attic, but quickly accepted an old coat.
"Now what are you going to do with the little heathen?" asked the housekeeper, voicing the question Genie had rattling around in her mind.
"Do you have a place to stay, Jemmy?" asked Genie.
Jem nodded his head, then shook it, then shrugged and reached for another fistful of ham.
"Well, do you or don't you?" asked the housekeeper.
"I stay wi' Mr. Master, if'n he don't beat me. If'n he's in a drubbn' mind, I sleeps in a doorway."
"You poor dear," said Genie.
"Naught but a street urchin," muttered the housekeeper, less inclined toward sympathy.
"But could we not keep him?" asked Genie.
The housekeeper crossed her arms over her generous bosom. "You would have to get permission from his lordship and her ladyship first, and I'd bet a lifetime of Sundays they will not be so inclined. He's just a street rat. London is full of them. 'Tis sad to be sure, but there is naught we can do for him."
Genie was committed to the path of helping her wayward street urchin, but she had to agree that Lady Bremerton was unlikely to look on Jem with anything other than disgust. Yet Genie knew she was in the right, and once she was confident in her principles, she never backed down.
"Do you have any parents or family?" asked Genie.
The child shook his head.
"Who is this Mr. Master you speak of?"
"He pays us to do things, nick stuff mostly," said the boy, taking another hearty bite of biscuit while stuffing a few more in his pocket.
"Well," said Genie, thinking of what to do. "Well, there is nothing else we can do-we must speak with my aunt."
***
"Your excursion to see your betrothed has cost me my coat," accused Grant, swirling his whiskey.
"Your coat?" asked Marchford, sitting across from him in their accustomed club.
"Was left on a damp Miss Talbot. Had twelve flaps, made by Brooks. I have a mind to ask for it back."
"You wish to see Miss Talbot again?"
"I'd like to see my coat again."
"She is a fine article, Grant."
"Yes, but what is she going to do with a man's coat? Can't wear it. Look demmed silly on a girl."
Marchford shook his head and went back to his newspaper. "You avoid a topic better than any man I know. Go see your Miss Talbot if you like."
"By Jove, you're right. Must get it back before the next storm hits." With that dubious justification, Grant left Marchford in the club and took his phaeton to the Bremerton town house.
The Bremerton house was a fine one as houses go. Its placement, grandeur, and distinguished marks of age all heralded an established lineage. The Earl of Bremerton boasted the bluest blood in the neighborhood.
Mr. Grant, who came from his own long line of established gentry, accepted the trappings of wealth and prestige with equanimity. He was quite at home in these surroundings, everything in order, everything managed in adherence to a strict code of conduct. It was comfortable, predictable, maybe even mundane at times, but he did not fail to recognize he had a very comfortable life.
When Grant was admitted into the drawing room, raised voices were a clear sign that something in the ordered life of the respectable Bremerton household had gone seriously awry.
"Absolutely out of the question," declared Lord Bremerton in a voice that defied response. He was an older gentleman of few words, so he expected people to heed those words once he troubled himself to utter them.
"But we cannot turn our backs on him. Why, he is only a child!" cried Miss Talbot.
Lord Bremerton was so unaccustomed to having anyone talk back to him, he opened and closed his mouth several times without saying a word.
"Yes, dear, I see that he is only a child, and these things are much too bad, but Lord Bremerton is right. We cannot allow such a creature to live in our house." Lady Bremerton fluttered a handkerchief in front of her as if to ward away such a noxious thought.
The object of such consternation was a small, scrawny boy, with a thick crop of red hair that stuck out from his head at odd angles like a flashy porcupine. Far from being disconcerted by the conversation in which he appeared to be the primary subject, the child wandered toward the tea tray and made short work of the cakes and biscuits, eating with two hands at an alarming pace, as if he was trying to stuff as much as possible into his mouth before someone shooed him away from the food.
"This child is being used by an unscrupulous man to conduct crimes. Jem says if he cannot steal enough each day, he is beaten. Surely you cannot ask me to return this boy to such a situation," said an impassioned Miss Talbot.
"If the boy is a thief, he should be locked in Newgate," growled Lord Bremerton.
"But it is not his fault. Surely we must show this child Christian charity, as we are commanded in the Bible."
At the mention of the Holy Book, Lady Bremerton put her handkerchief to her forehead and sank majestically to her couch. "Oh, Mr. Grant!" Lady Bremerton started with the sudden realization of his presence in the room. "I fear you catch us at an inopportune moment."
"I do apologize for trespassing on your privacy, Lady Bremerton. I have come merely for the return of my coat which I neglectfully left here yesterday."
"Mr. Grant!" Genie walked up to him flush and steady. If she were a prizefighter stepping into a mill, he would have laid his bets on her. "Do you not feel it is criminal to return a child to a life of unspeakable horror and misery?"