I raised my head. “You know a chap with money,” I said to Mr. Fielding. “Lord Alois Symington, who took you in. Would he be willing to take in six more? He certainly did well by you.”

“No,” Mr. Fielding said abruptly. His eyes flashed. “I’d never give a child over to that bastard.”

I blinked, and even Daniel stared in surprise. “But . . . he sent you to Oxford . . .”

“Oh yes, His Benevolence did.” Mr. Fielding’s voice took on sharp bitterness. “I angled for it, because it was the only thing that would get me out of his house. I became a vicar and finagled the living in Shadwell so I’d never have to see him again.”

22

I took in Mr. Fielding’s swift breath, his eyes glittering with rage.

“I see,” I said quietly. “There is more to that story, then.”

“There is.” Mr. Fielding sat straight in the seat, every inch of him brittle. “He took me in, all right, but I had to be grateful every day for his charity. He thought the way to bring out the goodness in a boy was to not spare the rod. I was to study hard, go to the school he chose, and make his name. Any transgression was brutally punished. Everyone praised him for his kindheartedness, and was amazed at how well I turned out.”

“How well he made them think you turned out,” I corrected. “I am so sorry, Mr. Fielding.”

Daniel removed his cap and ran a hand through his tangled hair. “So, all these years, when you lorded it over me that Symington believed in you enough to take you in while I had to live rough, hasn’t been quite true.”

“How could I tell you the truth?” Mr. Fielding demanded. “Admit that I’d been snatched from a life in the gutter by a man who beat me, belittled me, and locked me in an attic room night after night? All to release the devil from within me, he said.”

“I can’t believe you stayed in that room,” Daniel said in mild surprise. “You can pick locks faster than anyone I know. Why people bother with locks when they see you coming, I don’t know.”

“I stayed because he had food,” Mr. Fielding answered. “At least, I did at first. He also had a lot of money, and I relieved my torment by scheming ways to take it from him. Persuading him to send me to Balliol was a step. Being granted a living was another step. Getting myself elected to the Foundling Hospital board with all those aristos is yet another. One day, I plan to be in a position to ruin him. I will pound his reputation into the ground, and dance on it.”

“I see,” I repeated. I did, a number of things. “Now that members of the board might be procurers . . .”