Diamond in the rough, p.25
Diamond in the Rough, page 25
Viola’s eyes flashed. “Five Points? Young ladies never go to Five Points on their own.”
“We’ll have Murray with us,” Poppy pointed out.
“Murray doesn’t seem too keen about your plan.”
“Well, clearly, or he wouldn’t have spit it out to you like that,” Poppy said. “However, as I told Murray earlier, I want to help the people in Five Points sooner than later. But because I’ve become such a peculiar attraction of late, what with people showing up to pay calls every single day in the hopes they’ll witness me do something unexpected like dangle myself from a balcony or dump a cake on someone’s head, if I don’t slip away this morning, I won’t have another opportunity to get to Five Points until after the holidays. Christmas is in two days, and then after that, well, I have to learn all the steps to the Dresden China Quadrille.”
“I’m sure many of those people paying you calls, especially the gentlemen, would be more than willing to accompany you to Five Points—or better yet, go in your stead,” Viola said.
“I’m sure you’re right, but I’ve had a change of heart about having numerous society members come with me the first time or two I travel into a less desirable part of the city. I believe including those society members will make the outing seem more like a social occasion rather than a mission. I don’t think the people living in Five Points are going to disclose their true needs if they conclude I’m down there on some type of lark.”
Viola considered Poppy for a very long moment before giving a bob of her head. “An excellent point, my dear. But because you are your mother’s daughter and because I know full well if I forbid you to go you’ll end up climbing out a window or some such nonsense, risking that stubborn neck of yours in the process, I’m coming with you.”
“What?” Poppy and Beatrix asked together.
“I’m coming with you,” Viola repeated.
“You, well, ah, can’t come with us,” Poppy all but sputtered. “We’re going in disguise, but our disguises as ordinary men will never work if we’re seen in the company of a member of the New York Four Hundred.”
Viola waved that aside. “I’ll go in disguise as well.”
“We’re riding astride,” Poppy said, wincing when she heard the trace of desperation in her voice.
“I’ve always wanted to ride astride.”
“We don’t have the time to teach you. If you’ve forgotten, I’m meeting Reginald after lunch to begin quadrille lessons.”
Viola arched a brow. “Even though you seem to land yourself in the most unusual of circumstances, Poppy, you’re inherently graceful, something I’m convinced you inherited not only from your mother but also from me. I assure you it won’t take me long to learn how to ride astride, so stop arguing and let us get on with matters.”
Thirty minutes later, Poppy was fighting a grin as she watched her grandmother canter down Broadway, dressed as a man and riding astride, quite as if she’d been riding that way since birth.
Five minutes had been all it had taken for Viola to get accustomed to the new method, and given the way her grandmother’s lips kept curving, Poppy was certain Viola had discovered a new love in life, one that was going to see her donning trousers whenever she felt she could get away with it. She certainly seemed keen to be out and about without wearing a corset, something Viola had abandoned after she realized her form didn’t look remotely masculine under the shirt she’d borrowed from Mr. Parsons, fetched for her by Murray, as were the trousers she was wearing.
“I wonder what George is going to say, Viola, when he learns what you’ve been up to today,” Beatrix said, riding her horse with ease beside Viola, as Murray bounced along beside her on Wilbur, not quite having found his seat yet.
Viola blinked innocently at Beatrix. “I don’t think there’s any reason for me to tell George about our little adventure today. We rarely confide all the details of our day to each other, and I see no reason to change that now.”
Beatrix grinned. “And you’re afraid he’ll decide you’ve taken leave of your senses.”
Viola, surprisingly enough, returned the grin. “There is that.” She steered her horse, a spirited mare by the name of Trotter, around a delivery wagon, waited for everyone to do the same, then nodded to Poppy. “But speaking of your grandfather, he didn’t uncover any new information last night while visiting the Union Club about who might have dropped those musket balls at our tea.”
Poppy frowned. “I wouldn’t imagine he would find out anything new. There was plenty of time after my accident for someone to claim responsibility. But since no one stepped forward at the tea, I doubt anyone will suddenly feel overwhelmed with guilt and do so now.”
“I think Adele is to blame,” Beatrix said. “She’s the most likely culprit, given how much she clearly dislikes you, Poppy.”
“And I think you’re wrong about that,” Murray argued. “Adele ended up with more than her fair share of cake on her head and suffered a fit of the vapors directly after that happened, which did not show her to advantage to Charles.”
Beatrix smiled. “She did look a fright, but I have to imagine if she is to blame, she wasn’t counting on the cake going airborne when Poppy slipped on the musket balls.” Her smile faded. “Does anyone else find it peculiar that someone used those to trip Poppy up?”
Viola nodded. “It was a most unusual weapon of choice, but highly effective.”
“But only for a brief moment,” Murray said. “Oddly enough, Poppy’s accident seems to have made her one of the most sought-after ladies of the Season.”
“Only because I’ve become a curiosity,” Poppy said, slowing her horse as she looked around. “Shouldn’t we be turning off onto a side street soon to return to the area where little Maria lives?”
“Are you intending to find this little Maria?” Viola asked.
“Not unless I can’t find the House of Industry.” Poppy nudged her horse forward. “I thought we’d start there, seek out the Reverend Lewis who Maria mentioned and see if he might be able to point us in the right direction, where our efforts to help the needy would be most useful.”
It took them fifteen minutes of winding their way through side streets that were less than reputable before they stumbled upon the House of Industry—and only by accident, after a man Poppy had asked for directions sent them almost to the Battery before a woman selling hot chestnuts got them turned around. Reining her horse to a stop, Poppy glanced over the five-story building in front of her, one that took up at least half the block.
“It’s an impressive size,” Murray said, digging into the paper sack of chestnuts he’d purchased and popping one in his mouth. “I wonder what type of services they offer here.”
“I believe they offer classes in a variety of subjects but mostly teach immigrants English and offer children standard lessons,” Beatrix said, digging into her own sack of chestnuts before she looked up and caught Poppy’s eye. “I’m ashamed I don’t know much more than that though, having never thought to investigate this particular mission effort further.”
“At least we’re here now,” Poppy said as four lads burst through the door of the House of Industry and came charging their way.
“We’ll hold your horses for you if you’re here to see Reverend Lewis,” one of the larger lads said, stopping directly beside Viola.
“And how do we know the four of you are to be trusted with our horses?” Viola asked in her most intimidating voice, which, instead of leaving the boys looking properly terrified, had them descending into giggles.
Viola frowned. “What could they possibly find so amusing?”
Poppy grinned. “I imagine they weren’t expecting you to sound like a lady since you’re dressed like a man.”
Viola rolled her eyes. “Well of course they weren’t, and here I thought I was doing so well with my masquerade.” She cleared her throat. “Can you be trusted?” she asked the boys in a voice she’d lowered a good octave, which had them giggling harder right as an older gentleman walked out of the House of Industry and strode over to join them.
“Are you lost?” he asked.
“You have no idea,” Murray muttered as Poppy swallowed a laugh and inclined her head toward the man.
“We’re here to speak with Reverend Lewis.”
A trace of wariness flickered through the man’s eyes. “What do you want with him? Or better yet, why are three of you dressed like men when you’re obviously nothing of the sort?”
Poppy winced. “Apparently we need to perfect the art of assuming the role of men, but to answer your question, Maria Romano told me that Reverend Lewis ran the House of Industry. We’re here to question him about how we could best go about improving the lives of those living in Five Points.”
The man blinked before he smiled. “You’re Miss Poppy, aren’t you?”
“You know my name?”
The man nodded. “Maria told me all about you when she came with her mother to visit me. I’m Reverend Lewis, dear, and I withheld my name because we often encounter questionable sorts here, mostly men looking to hire on some of the women who work here, but hire them under false pretenses, which can leave those women in dire straits.”
“No wonder you were wary,” Poppy said before she swung from the saddle and went to help her grandmother, who seemed rather annoyed that she was having difficulty getting down from her horse.
After Reverend Lewis instructed the young boys to take the horses to the stables located on the side of the building, he motioned for everyone to follow him into the House of Industry. He led them to the third floor, where the offices were kept, pointing out along the way the sewing room, dining hall, and then classrooms where they taught students, young and old alike.
Gesturing them into chairs once they reached the office, he took a seat, then launched into the history of the House of Industry, explaining all the services available at the mission.
“We offer women a new chance at life here, as well as take in orphans from the streets,” he eventually concluded with a smile. “We’re always in need of supplies, and we could use a few extra hands to serve up a Christmas meal.”
Viola sat forward. “I would be more than willing to donate.”
“Would you also be willing to come here on Christmas and help us see after those most in need?” he asked.
To Poppy’s surprise, Viola didn’t hesitate to nod. “Of course. I can also have my staff prepare more hams and whatever else you may want to serve, which I’ll deliver after my granddaughter and I, along with her grandfather, present ourselves for service.”
“I’ll help too,” Beatrix said as Murray nodded and added, “As will I.”
Reverend Lewis beamed a smile all around. “How marvelous.” He turned to Poppy. “Maria told me you were an unusual woman, and clearly she was right. But I am thankful she mentioned the House of Industry to you because we could use your assistance. The number of poor in the city is increasing at an unprecedented rate, and I’m afraid the resources we have don’t go as far as they used to. I’ve been praying every morning and every evening, asking God to send us desperately needed assistance, and”—he caught Poppy’s eye—“here you are.”
Poppy smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if God did direct me here, what with the strange circumstances I experienced that led me to Five Points in the first place. And now that I’m beginning to understand the need in this area, I’m going to make a concerted effort to strongly encourage other members of society to step up and help. Hopefully, we’ll be—”
Before she could finish, a boy suddenly rushed into the room, skidding to a stop directly in front of Reverend Lewis. “You’d best come quick, sir. There’s been another accident at that laundry up the street and someone said people died. A crowd’s already gathering to protest the conditions at the laundry, and they’re turning rowdy.”
“You should get on your way” was all Reverend Lewis said before he strode from the room.
“I believe he’s right,” Viola said, rising to her feet and heading for the door, Poppy falling into step beside her with Beatrix and Murray close behind.
By the time they reached the street, they could see that the crowd was on the move, streaming down Worth Street in front of the House of Industry, their demands of better working conditions shouted in voices raw with fury.
“Too bad Reginald never caught up with us after I sent that note around to him,” Murray said, his eyes wide as he took in the chaos unfolding around them.
“You sent Reginald a note?” Poppy asked, craning her neck as she tried to discover exactly where the stables were located.
“’Course I did, and no need to get up in arms, Poppy. Everyone knows mayhem follows in your wake, and here’s the proof.” Murray gave a somewhat feeble wave of his hand to the crowd surrounding them, one that seemed to be swelling by the second.
“I see the stables,” Beatrix yelled, raising her voice to be heard over the noise.
Tugging her hat lower over her face, Poppy grabbed hold of her grandmother’s hand and began hurrying through the crowd, tightening her grip as they were jostled by the horde of people. Ignoring a fight that broke out directly to her left, she plowed forward, coming to a stop when a burly man suddenly stepped directly in front of her.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, but when the man didn’t move, she lifted her head, disbelief flowing through her when she recognized him as being none other than the man who’d tried to steal her reticule.
By the way his eyes widened when his gaze settled on her face, she knew he’d recognized her as well. What she wasn’t expecting, though, was for him to shove Viola away from her and then pick her up as if she weighed nothing at all. He slung her over his back, rather like one would sling a sack of potatoes, then began pushing his way through the crowd, completely ignoring her shrieks of outrage.
“Poppy! I’m coming, hold—”
For the briefest of seconds, Poppy thought the voice calling out to her belonged to Reginald, but before she could respond, the man holding her picked up his pace. Growling at someone to get out of his way, the man suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as police whistles rent the air.
In a blink of an eye, Poppy found herself dumped to the cobblestones as the man abandoned her and fled into the crowd.
Dodging people as she scrambled to her feet, she shoved aside a man who’d lurched into her, raising an arm to deflect the blow the man she’d just shoved seemed about ready to render.
To her relief, the man suddenly lowered his arm and raced away, but her relief was short lived when she turned around and discovered a policeman scowling back at her.
“Thank goodness you’ve arrived on the scene, officer,” she began, “for a minute there I thought—”
Whatever else she’d been about to say got lost when the policeman took hold of her arm and began marching her through the crowd, not letting go of her until he’d all but tossed her into what, unfortunately, turned out to be a police wagon bound for jail.
Chapter 21
Traveling to a local jail had not been on his agenda for the day—or ever, if the truth were known.
Coming to a stop in front of the cell a policeman had directed him to, Reginald blinked as he peered through the bars and got his first glimpse of Poppy, Viola, and Murray.
To say they looked the worse for wear was an understatement.
Murray’s nose was once again dripping blood. He’d lost his hat and his hair was standing on end as he slouched on the wooden bench he was sharing with Poppy.
Viola was sitting stiff as a poker on the other side of Poppy. Her face, what could be seen of it since she’d pulled a woven cap down almost over her eyes, was smudged with dirt. Her jacket was torn and filthy, and the trousers she was wearing, which were something he’d never imagined a grand society lady wearing, were covered in mud and sported a large tear in one of the knees.
Poppy, quite like her grandmother, was filthy from head to toe, her cap pulled down as well, but not far enough to where the curiosity in her eyes was hidden as she leaned closer to Viola, whispering something that had Viola nodding.
Relief flowed freely as Reginald realized Poppy was unharmed, although that relief was mixed with a hefty dose of exasperation, since she’d once again managed to become involved in another bout of mayhem, this one of epic proportions.
When he’d received Murray’s hastily scribbled note, telling him that Poppy, Beatrix, and Viola were insisting on traveling to the House of Industry, Reginald had thrown on his clothes and summoned a hansom cab a mere five minutes later. Bouncing his way through the early morning traffic, he’d thought he’d prepared himself for whatever mischief Poppy was certain to have landed in, never imagining he’d be forced to fight his way through a mob.
He certainly hadn’t imagined he’d find Poppy slung over some man’s back, yelling at the top of her lungs as the man carried her through the crowd.
His heart had missed a beat as he’d plunged into that crowd after her, but before he’d been able to catch her, he’d been surrounded by furious men who’d begun swinging their fists at anything that moved.
By the time he’d fought his way free of those men, Poppy had somehow managed to become parted with the man who’d seemingly been about to abduct her and was being thrown into a wagon stuffed with protestors. Knowing he’d have little chance of seeing her removed from the wagon, not with all the chaos surrounding it, he’d had no choice but to run behind the wagon as it trundled away, keeping pace until it had passed through a gate that led directly to a jail.
A good two hours had passed before he’d finally been able to talk to someone about seeing her released. His plan to pay her bail, however, had come to a rapid end when he’d realized he’d become parted from his billfold at some point in time, probably while he’d been fighting his way through the mob. That pesky problem meant he had no available funds to secure her release, a situation he could certainly rectify, but one that annoyed him because if he’d realized his billfold had been pilfered, he would have returned to his hotel straightaway to fetch more funds instead of waiting around.
