“I was elected to the board a year ago, and it has been uneventful thus far,” Mr. Fielding said. “I don’t see the children much, but vote on budgets, look over accounts, advise on matters of spiritual education, that sort of thing.”
He paused as though waiting for my acknowledgment, and I nodded again. I noticed that he, as had Cynthia’s friend earlier this evening, talked to me, not at me or around me. I also noticed Daniel’s cynical expression, as though he did not believe Mr. Fielding had any business advising on spiritual education.
“Please continue,” I prompted when Mr. Fielding’s pause extended. “You said your year was uneventful. Has that changed?”
“It has.” Mr. Fielding heaved a sigh. “As you might gather, Mrs. Holloway, when I was younger, I was a reprobate, and in many ways still am.” His blue eyes took on the twinkle I’d seen when he’d spoken of his past, but the twinkle swiftly died. “But this has distressed me.”
“Tell her,” Daniel said, his voice hard. “No one is blaming you.”
“That is true. There is nothing to blame me for.” Mr. Fielding gave me a troubled look. “A few children have gone missing from the Foundling Hospital.”
My eyes widened in alarm. “Good heavens. Have you informed the police?”
“Not exactly.” Mr. Fielding glanced about the small room, as though worried he’d be overheard. “When one of the nurses, a young woman called Nurse Betts, noticed them absent, she reported this to me, as a member of the board, and wanted to go to the police. But it would have to be done discreetly, I knew. The Hospital does not want to be known as a place that loses children. Funding would diminish, certainly. The Hospital was formed by a royal charter, and no one wants to risk that. I convinced Nurse Betts to leave the matter in my hands. I consulted with the director of the Hospital—Lord Russell Hirst—who is in charge of the day-to-day running of it, and another governor, an unctuous bishop called Exley. They forestalled me by telling me the children had been fostered, quietly, though no one has seen them since.”
“But you do not believe they were,” I said, disquiet touching me. “Or you’d not have consulted Daniel. Why are you certain the children are missing?”
“I was more concerned than panicked.” Mr. Fielding sounded apologetic. “But then Nurse Betts disappeared herself. That I did report, but the police are useless—they tried to tell me she might simply have gone off on her own. But it is too much of a coincidence for my taste.”
“Why come to me?” I directed these words at Daniel, who’d rested a hip on the edge of a table and folded his arms, a most irreverent posture for a sacristy. “I do not like this tale and believe the police ought to search diligently for the nurse as well as the children, but what do you think I can do?”
“Ask questions,” Daniel said readily. “You are good at making people answer them. Speak to the servants at the Hospital. They likely know much about the comings and goings there.”
I threw him a look of exasperation. “I am flattered by your confidence, but I can hardly march into the kitchens of the Foundling Hospital and begin interviewing the cooks and maids. You’d find it a much easier task yourself, going to them in your delivery van. I have no doubt you could finagle your way into the firms who supply the Hospital.”
Mr. Fielding flashed me a very un-clerical grin. “Daniel has ever been skilled at finagling.”
Daniel pretended to ignore him. “I could and possibly will. But people open up to you, Kat. Besides, you have a foundling in your own kitchen, another reason I suggested that Errol speak to you.”
“Do I?” I blinked. The kitchen staff had been there before I’d come, except Tess, and I knew she wasn’t a foundling. She’d been raised by parents, though not very good ones. I hadn’t asked any of the others about their origins, considering it none of my affair.
“Elsie, your scullery maid. She told James,” Daniel said. “She was raised at this very Hospital. She can tell you who you can chat with, might even know the missing children and nurse in question.”
I would certainly ask her, but I fixed both men with a steely gaze. “I have quite a lot to do, Daniel. I cannot simply leave the kitchen whenever I wish. Food does not cook itself.”
I spoke with less conviction than my tone might convey. I did not like Mr. Fielding’s story, as Daniel knew I would not. If Mr. Fielding had been worried about someone fiddling the accounting, I’d have walked home and told them to leave me be, but missing children was a different matter entirely. I knew full well the horrors of London for a lad or lass on his or her own. Having to beg for coin or food would be the least terrible thing that could befall them.
“I will consult with Elsie,” I said. “Day after tomorrow I take my day out, and I will see what I can do.”
Daniel flashed me the smile that never failed to warm me. “Thank you, Kat.”
Mr. Fielding noticed what passed between us with sudden interest. “Ever the charmer, is our Daniel. Do not believe anything he says, Mrs. Holloway. You can take my word as a vicar on that.”
“You weren’t always a vicar,” Daniel said darkly.
Mr. Fielding burst out laughing, an impudent sound that did not go with this solemn place. “That is true. Reprobate, as I said, but I am now respectable and reformed—mostly.” His merriment faded. “I truly am concerned, Mrs. Holloway. I’d rest easier knowing these children were well.”
The look he gave me was sincere, a kindly one in a handsome face. He claimed Daniel was a charmer, but I saw that this man too could charm, laughing at himself while showing sincerity deep in his eyes.
There was something else in those eyes as well, I’d seen when he’d spoken the name of the missing nurse. A worry that had changed into fear, one that had made him seek Daniel, a fellow survivor from his distant past. I very much wanted to know more about Nurse Betts and what she meant to Mr. Fielding.
* * *
* * *
Daniel walked me home. I could have gone perfectly well by myself—after all, I’d arrived on my own—but he led me out into the rain, hand firm on my elbow.
It was not far to Mount Street, but the wind had picked up, and the going became arduous. With some relief, I descended the stairs that led from the street to my kitchen, glad to be out of the wind, though the stairwell was quite dark. Very clean, however. Mrs. Redfern, our new housekeeper, was diligent about sending a maid and a footman out to clear and scrub the steps.
Daniel descended with me, but before I could open the back door, he pulled me to a halt. “I am glad to see you, Kat.”
The warmth in his voice was agreeable, but the cold wind was foul, and I’d prefer to speak to him out of the weather.