Elsie generally had a bright disposition, prone to singing or humming as she worked, but this evening her expression was troubled.

“I’m glad I went home today, Mrs. Holloway,” she said as I stacked more crockery on the table next to the sink. “Home” to her meant the Foundling Hospital. “I spoke to Mabel—had a good old chat with her. The maid Bessie has been worse than ever, snarling and grumbling one minute, paying no attention to anything the next. Nearly dropped a basin of water all over a matron, and didn’t that get her screeched at?”

“Hmm.” I wondered why Bessie was so out of sorts. It could be any reason, but I was growing interested in this surly maid.

“Mrs. Compton is very worried, Mrs. Holloway,” Elsie went on. “She sought me out when she learned I’d come for a visit. She’s afraid that other children have gone missing now, and asks if you’ll come talk to her about it.”

14

She is afraid they have?” I repeated, my heart growing heavy at the news. “Does she not know for certain?”

Elsie vigorously scrubbed a patch of sticky oil from a pan. “I asked Mabel. She thinks the two—a boy and a girl—were taken in by a kind family. But that’s what they thought about the others.” She poured more water she’d heated on the stove into the sink. “It’s terrible, Mrs. H. What if something happens to Mabel?” She turned eyes brimming with tears to me.

“Now, don’t take on so.” I wanted to reassure her, but wasn’t certain I could. “I will find out what is happening, I promise you. How old are these children?”

“Eight and nine, Mabel says. Mabel was being sister to the little girl.” Elsie wiped her eyes and returned to scrubbing. “She hopes you’ll find the villains and kick them in the balls. Exactly what she said.”

I had kicked a villain in his bits, or tried to, Monday evening, when I’d fought off the laboring men. It had been satisfying.

“I will,” I said stoutly.

Elsie summoned a smile, and I went back to the kitchen. I could promise many things, I realized, but whether I could deliver the goods remained to be seen.

*   *   *

I could not slip out and make my way to the Foundling Hospital anytime I wished, however. I had work to do. I knew, the next day, as I basted the roast and caught the drippings for the Yorkshire pudding for the midday meal, that I would need to recruit help.

I found it in the form of Miss Townsend. I’d contemplated sending for Lady Cynthia, but worried to test Mrs. Bywater’s patience if she caught Cynthia continually descending the stairs to visit with me.