My legs were trembling with both relief and more anxiety. If Mrs. Shaw was right, then the children hadn’t been taken by procurers after all. Perhaps they were safe. But I would make certain of it.

I made Mrs. Shaw drink the brandy, which quieted her. I gave it to her not out of compassion, but so she wouldn’t bring the maids, footmen, Mrs. Redfern, or Mr. Davis down to inquire what was the matter.

It did bring Elsie, and I regarded her calmly. “Elsie, will you accompany Mrs. Shaw back to the Foundling Hospital? You will find James there—tell him to run for Mr. McAdam. And Bessie, will you please find out where this farm is, if Mrs. Shaw does not know?”

Mrs. Shaw continued to weep. She’d been the perfect dupe.

“I’ll just finish me scone and all this clotted cream,” Bessie said, lifting the half-eaten thing to shove into her mouth. “Haven’t had a treat like this in . . . ooh, never have, I don’t think.”

“I will wrap up the rest for you,” I said, feeling generous toward the young woman. “Thank you, Bessie. You have been of enormous help.”

*   *   *

I sent Mrs. Shaw, Bessie, and Elsie—and a basket packed with tarts, scones, and cakes—off in a hansom to the Foundling Hospital. I knew Elsie would fetch James, who would fetch Daniel, who would be willing to run to the ends of the earth to discover the truth.

“Well,” Tess said as she helped me clear up. “What a silly old fool.”

I had to agree. “I daresay this man knew exactly how to flatter Mrs. Shaw. I only hope she hasn’t caused more harm with her thoughtlessness. Poor Nurse Betts.”

“Why’d Miss Betts run to Whitechapel?” Tess carried plates to the sink, beginning to wash up without being asked. “Why not run back to the Foundling Hospital?”

“She was looking for Mr. Fielding,” I said, knowing in my heart I was right. “But she wasn’t certain of the direction of his church. She wanted to tell him what she’d found, and that she’d feared the children had been sold to the bawdy house. She and Mr. Fielding had become friends, perhaps more than that, and he was one of the governors himself. He’d know what to do.”

My heart ached for her and Mr. Fielding both. The lady might have been good for him, softening what was hard in him. I wondered if Mr. Fielding would ever let himself care so much again.

As I began to take out pots to begin the next meal, Mr. Davis arrived. “They’re asking for you above stairs,” he said. “You are much in demand, Mrs. H.” He said it good-naturedly, and not in surprise.

I sighed and untied my apron. “Nothing for it, I suppose.”