CHAPTER 20
The taxi pulled to a stop in front of a stately white-brick house. While Julia paid the fare, Mrs. Middleton opened the door and stuck her cane out in front of her. Julia hurried around to assist her.
“Just leave the bags on the walkway and I’ll come back for them later,” Julia told the driver.
“No need, miss. I’ll bring them up to the porch.”
“Thank you.” She gripped Mrs. Middleton by the elbow, and they slowly made their way to the front door.
The trembling in the older woman’s limbs proved she was still plagued by weakness.
After pulling a key from her handbag, Mrs. Middleton unlocked one of the double doors, which creaked as it swung inward. “Ah,” she said as she entered. “It’s good to be home.” She took a few steps into the foyer.
Julia looked around the interior. Though dated, the stately home boasted an old-fashioned elegance that time couldn’t dim, from the polished wooden staircase to the flocked green wallpaper that graced the hallway.
“What a lovely house,” she said.
“She’s a bit tired-looking, I’ll admit,” Mrs. Middleton said. “But it’s always been home.”
Julia’s gaze flicked up the grand central staircase. Mrs. Middleton needed to rest before she tackled that climb. “Let me get you comfortable. Where would you like to sit?”
“The parlor will do for now.” Mrs. Middleton pointed to the French doors on the right. “I hope Allison made a fire in here. It gets chilly, even in the summer.” She headed into the parlor, Julia following behind.
The pale blue room was crowded with furniture of every description. Each corner held a table or a bookcase, a chair or an ottoman. As Mrs. Middleton had hoped, a small fire graced the hearth.
Julia helped the woman into a chair near the warmth and pulled a knitted afghan from the ottoman to drape over her lap. “Are you comfortable for a minute while I bring in the bags?”
“I’m fine. These old bones are happy to be back in my familiar seat.”
Julia hurried out to the porch where Mrs. Middleton’s bag, as well as Julia’s case, sat on the top step. She brought them into the foyer and returned to the parlor.
A woman in a black dress with a white collar stood in front of Mrs. Middleton’s chair. The housekeeper, most likely, Julia surmised.
“It’s grand to have you home, ma’am,” the woman said. “The place hasn’t been the same without you. If I’d known you’d arrived, I would have met you at the door.”
“Thank you, Allison. It’s good to be back at last.” Mrs. Middleton looked over. “Oh, here she is now. Julia, please come and meet my housekeeper, Mrs. Banbury. This is Julia Holloway. I’ve hired her as my live-in companion. She will take the room across from mine.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Banbury.” Julia gave the woman a wide smile.
The servant only nodded, her expression less than friendly. Then she turned back to Mrs. Middleton. “I’ll have Mrs. Neville prepare your favorite dish for the evening meal. In the meantime, I’ll make up the guest room.”
“Thank you, Allison.”
“Is there anything else for the moment?”
“No, that will do for now. I believe I may need to lie down for a while.”
Julia moved toward her. “I’ll help you upstairs if you’re ready.”
With a grunt, Mrs. Middleton pulled herself out of the chair.
Before they started up the main staircase, Julia retrieved the woman’s bag. Again, the process was slow, and Mrs. Middleton was breathing heavily by the time they reached the room she indicated was hers.
The housekeeper had been busy, it seemed. The windows were open, allowing a slight breeze to stir the curtains. A large bed with a white iron headboard dominated the room, and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the dresser.
Julia helped the woman to lie down, and spread a light blanket over her. “I’ll check on you later. Have a good rest.”
Mrs. Middleton settled back against the pillows with a sigh. “Welcome to my home, Julia. I hope you’ll be happy here.”
She smiled. “I’m sure I will.”
But as she closed the bedroom door behind her, her thoughts turned to Quinn. Soon, she would have to confront him about his dealings with her uncle. She’d give herself a few days to get settled first, and hopefully by the time she saw Quinn again, she’d be in control of her emotions and able to have a reasonable conversation with him.
Quinn trudged along the sidewalk on his way to the boardinghouse, trying to ignore the way his damp shirt clung to his skin. The intense heat of the summer was one aspect of the city he still hadn’t grown accustomed to, and today it was making him more than a bit irritable.
It had been three days since Quinn and Julia had returned from Peterborough. Three days since Julia had moved in with Mrs. Middleton. Yet it felt more like three years. He missed her warm smile, the amber flecks in her brown eyes, the way her face lit with enthusiasm at every new sight she encountered. He missed sharing his thoughts with her, knowing she’d listen and sympathize with him. Or perhaps even suggest a different course of action.
Now, as he approached Mrs. Chamberlain’s front door, Quinn missed the thrill of anticipation he used to experience, knowing she was inside. Somehow the boardinghouse didn’t hold the same appeal without her.
Even Harry agreed.
As the boy’s health improved, he was becoming restless, unused to lying around with nothing to do. And he complained about Julia not coming to visit him. “Julia brings me cookies,” he whined. “She reads to me and plays cards with me.”
Apparently, Quinn didn’t quite measure up in the visitor department.
“You know Julia has a new job,” he’d reminded Harry. “I’m sure when she has some time off she’ll come ’round.”
“Or maybe when I’m better, you could take me to visit her.” Harry’s face had brightened, his eyes pleading.
“We’ll see.” But Harry’s comment had given Quinn pause. Quite innocently, the boy had let it slip that he still wasn’t fully recovered. Which only reinforced Quinn’s goal for today.
He planned to speak with Mrs. Chamberlain, get her opinion on Harry’s prognosis, and ask her what she thought they should do next. He didn’t want Harry to become a burden. Yet Quinn’s room at the YMCA had room for only one cot. If need be, Quinn could make a pallet on the floor for himself and give Harry the bed, but that arrangement wouldn’t do for long. Perhaps Mrs. C. would have another alternative.
Quinn knocked on the door and shifted from one foot to the other as he waited.
Today he would also ask to use Mrs. C.’s telephone to contact Becky and find out what she had decided regarding coming back to England.
He’d checked into the schedules for ships leaving Halifax for England, and there was one leaving at the end of July. The daunting task of getting all three of his siblings, as well as Julia, on that boat weighed heavily on Quinn. Only his faith allowed him to believe it could be possible. Surely, God hadn’t brought him this far to let him return empty-handed.
“Hello, Mr. Aspinall.” Barbara Campbell, one of the boarders, opened the door with a smile.
“Good morning, Miss Campbell.” He removed his cap. “How are you today?”
“Very well, thanks,” she said with a grin. “You must be here to see that adorable brother of yours.”
“That’s right.” He moved into the foyer. “But I’d like a word with Mrs. Chamberlain first, if she has a minute.”
Barbara rested a hand on her hip. “Sure thing. I’ll get her for you. You can wait in the parlor.”
A few minutes later, Mrs. C. entered the room. “Good morning, Quinten. What can I do for you?” Today, she looked different. All dressed up, as though ready for church.
“You look like you’re heading out somewhere,” he said.
“I am. But I have a few minutes to spare.” She indicated the sofa. “Sit down and tell me what’s on your mind.”
He perched on the edge while she took her usual chair.
“I wanted to get your opinion about Harry,” he said. “Whether he’s well enough to move in with me at the Y.”
“He’s doing quite well, but surely there’s no rush. We all love having him here.”
“You’re sure he’s not a burden? I don’t want to add to your workload.”
“Nonsense. Harry is a delight.”
“Even without Julia to help care for him?” Quinn fought to keep his tone neutral, though his neck heated under his collar.
“We all miss Julia, of course,” Mrs. C. said. “But the other girls are pitching in to make sure Harry is well looked after. In fact, Mabel stayed on the third floor so Harry wouldn’t be alone.”
“That’s kind of her. Be sure to thank her for me.” Quinn hesitated, attempting to appear casual. “Speaking of Julia, have you heard from her since she moved out?”
“Just once. She called to check on Harry.”
“Did she say how she’s managing in her new post?”
“She likes it quite well so far. Especially her spacious bedroom in Mrs. Middleton’s mansion.”
“Mansion?” Quinn’s head shot up. He’d pictured a little cottage-style house, one befitting a lonely widow. “Is Mrs. Middleton a wealthy woman?”
“I wouldn’t say wealthy, though she’s hardly a pauper. The Middleton mansion has been handed down through the family for three generations. In any case, Julia seems content there.”
Quinn swallowed and loosened his collar. Why wasn’t he happier for her? He should be thrilled she landed the perfect job working for an independent woman of means. But part of him wished she missed him—at least a little.
“Getting used to Mrs. Middleton’s eccentricities will be a bit of a challenge; however, Julia is more than capable of handling it. I have no doubt they will both settle into a mutually beneficial relationship.”
Which meant Julia would have no incentive to return to England. Quinn let out a sigh.
“Is something wrong?” Mrs. C. studied him.
“Of course not. Julia deserves to be happy.” Mentally switching gears, he leaned forward. “Mrs. C., is there anything I can do to repay you for all your kindness? Any work you need done around the house?”
“Not at the moment.” Her eyes narrowed. “But there is one thing you could do.”
“Name it.” Quinn itched to have something physical to do to keep busy. To keep his mind from dwelling on circumstances he couldn’t control.
“Reverend Burke and I have an appointment with Mr. Hobday at Dr. Barnardo’s today. We want to talk to him about the harsh conditions some of the children are living in and demand he send more inspectors to check on them.” She paused, one brow raised. “We could use your testimony added to ours.”
Instant tension seized Quinn. The thought of facing Mr. Hobday again was not something he looked forward to. Especially since Quinn had not only interfered with Harry’s position, he’d removed Harry from the farm altogether. Would Mr. Hobday be aware of this? Or would Mr. Wolfe have been too ashamed to report the boy’s absence?
However, despite dreading the encounter, the thought of other boys—or worse yet, young girls—receiving such horrendous treatment at the hands of their employers made Quinn’s stomach clench. He owed it to Harry to report the incident to someone who could perhaps make a difference.
Besides, Quinn owed a huge debt to Mrs. Chamberlain for helping both Julia and Harry in their time of trouble. It was the least he could do for her. “I suppose, if you think it will help . . .”
“I’m sure it will.”
“Then I’d be happy to come with you.” He held back a sigh. It’s not as if he had anything else on his schedule for today. Like seeing Julia.
“Wonderful. Reverend Burke will be here in twenty minutes.”
Quinn dredged up a smile. “Long enough for me to say a quick hello to Harry.”
Half an hour later, in the back seat of Rev. Burke’s Model T, Quinn gripped the doorframe with white-knuckled intensity. How did a pastor afford his own automobile, anyway? And where had he learned to drive like a madman?
When the automobile bounced over a rut in the road, Quinn barely kept from banging his head on the roof. He breathed a sigh of relief when the man pulled up to the curb and set the brake.
Rev. Burke hurried around to help Mrs. Chamberlain out of the passenger seat, then waited while Quinn unfolded his frame from the cramped rear seat and climbed onto the sidewalk.
Mrs. C. smoothed out her skirt. “Let’s hope Geoffrey’s collar will add a certain credibility to our visit. That, along with your witnessing Harry’s abuse firsthand, should be enough to convince the man to take action.”
“We can only hope and pray, my dear.” Rev. Burke patted Mrs. C.’s arm as he led her up to the front door.
“Good day,” Rev. Burke said to the receptionist. “We have an appointment with Mr. Hobday. Reverend Burke and Mrs. Chamberlain.”
The woman eyed Quinn. From her scowl, Quinn determined that she remembered him and his persistence. “Is this man with you?” she asked.
“Oh yes, forgive me,” Mrs. C. said. “This is Mr. Quinten Aspinall.”
“We’ve met,” she said tersely.
“Hello, Mrs. Allen.” Quinn doffed his hat. “Lovely to see you again.” He doubted his tight smile fooled the woman.
She rose from her chair. “Please follow me.”
Once again, Quinn followed her to the director’s office, this time joined by his two companions.
Mr. Hobday looked up from his desk and removed his spectacles. When he spotted Quinn, he frowned. “To what do I owe this honor?” His expression said it was anything but an honor.
Rev. Burke stepped forward. “Good day, sir. We have an important matter to discuss with you.”
Mr. Hobday glanced warily at each of them, then nodded. “Please have a seat.”
Mrs. C. took a chair, her purse perched on her lap. “Mr. Hobday, as superintendent of this home, we want to talk to you about the children and some of the situations they are living in.”
Rev. Burke cleared his throat. “First, let us begin by saying that we appreciate the tremendous job you are doing and how difficult it must be to bear the burden of such a responsibility.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Hobday lifted his chin. “I’m glad you understand the daunting task I face each and every day.”
“Indeed. However, we do have a concern about the conditions some of the children may be experiencing.” The minister turned to look at Quinn. “Conditions Mr. Aspinall’s brother, Harry, found out the hard way.”
Mr. Hobday’s features tightened as he focused on Quinn. “It appears you were successful in locating your siblings. Or one of them at least. I received a letter this morning from Mr. Wolfe stating that Harrison has left his post and is in breach of his contract.”
Heat blasted through Quinn, and he scowled. The utter nerve of the man to complain. “If anyone is in breach of a contract, it’s Mr. Wolfe. Unless physical violence is condoned by your organization.” He glared at the superintendent.
A shuttered look came over the man’s face. “At times, the farmers find it necessary to use punishment to temper undesired behavior. If you recall, I did warn you about the potential consequences of your search.”
Quinn curled his hands into fists, fighting his rising temper. How could this man be so glib about the type of violence Harry had endured? “You said the farmer would be annoyed. Not that Harry would be beaten within an inch of his life.”
The color drained from Mr. Hobday’s face, his lips pressed into a grim line.
Rev. Burke leaned forward. “We’re not blaming you, Mr. Hobday, but we hoped that by bringing the matter to your attention, we could find a way to rectify the situation and ensure the other boys in your care are safe.”
Mr. Hobday looked at Quinn. “I’m sorry about your brother. Believe me, in no way do I condone that type of treatment.” He paused. “How is Harry doing?”
“He’s improving slowly, after a stay in the hospital.”
“Hospit . . .” The man swallowed.
Quinn shook his head. “That’s not the worst of it. Harry was half-starved to begin with, living on a bed of straw in the barn.”
Mr. Hobday closed his eyes, his hands folded on the desktop. On a loud exhale, he opened his eyes. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said again. “That is not how we want our boys to live. We brought them to Canada for a chance at a better life, not for mistreatment.”
“Then, what are you prepared to do to ensure this isn’t happening to others under your care?” Mrs. Chamberlain asked. Her chin jutted out, her features hardened.
Quinn had never seen her this way. Unforgiving, confrontational. Harry’s problems had no doubt brought back all the pain of her own childhood, as well as her sister’s tragic fate.
Mr. Hobday’s expression remained sympathetic. “Unfortunately, there’s not a lot I can do other than lobby for more funds to hire additional inspectors. The few we have are hard-pressed to get in their yearly inspections.”
“And clearly those visits are useless.” Mrs. C. bristled. “Do they even interview the children themselves to ask how they’re being treated?”
“They do, however, the boys rarely say much. Only a few ever speak of harsh conditions, and when they do, the inspectors give the farmers recommendations.”
“Does anyone follow up on these recommendations to ensure they’re being implemented?”
Mr. Hobday shook his head. “Not until the next scheduled inspection.”
“Then you need more frequent visits to the farms.” Mrs. C. fairly quivered with indignation.
“Again, Mrs. Chamberlain, it’s a matter of funding. Unless you have an idea as to how to accomplish this on our limited budget . . .”
“What if I told you we did?” Rev. Burke said evenly.
The man’s brows rose. “Go on.”
“I believe I could get a team of volunteers together who would be willing to help with these inspections. Some clergy, some laypeople.”
Mr. Hobday shook his head. “That wouldn’t work, I’m afraid. We couldn’t have a bunch of random people with no authority invading the farmers’ domains.”
“I see your point. But what about clergy? Surely there could be no objection to a minister paying the boys a visit? There would be authority in the position, and the children might feel more comfortable talking to a pastor rather than a man in a business suit.”
Mr. Hobday stroked his chin. “That might be acceptable. But how would we find these clergymen and organize their visits? I do not have the time nor the manpower to do that myself.”
“I understand.” Rev. Burke nodded. “And I am willing to take this on. I’m sure Mrs. Chamberlain, as well as some of my other parishioners, would be happy to volunteer their time to organize such an undertaking. Perhaps once we have a list of willing participants, we could meet with your administrator here and work together to set up a schedule.”
Mr. Hobday studied them. “It’s definitely worth a try. And if it won’t cost us any more, I can’t see why anyone would object.” The director rose. “Let me propose it to the other board members while you begin contacting the clergy. We’ll be in touch and go from there.”
Rev. Burke rose as well, stretching out his hand to the director. “That sounds like a good place to start. Thank you for listening to our concerns.”
Mr. Hobday shook the minister’s hand. “And thank you for the information. I assure you I’ll do my best to rectify the situation. We are committed to keeping Dr. Barnardo’s dream alive and maintaining the level of quality he always insisted upon.”
“Really?” Mrs. Chamberlain’s voice was laced with disbelief. “Tell me, sir, did you ever meet Thomas Barnardo?”
The man frowned. “No, unfortunately he passed away before I had the privilege. Why do you ask?”
“Because many years ago, I was one of his orphans. I lived in one of his homes in London, and yes, the man had good intentions. But once the children left his residence, he often had no idea what was happening on the other side of the ocean. I only wish I’d had the courage to do something about it a lot sooner.” She inclined her head. “Good day to you, sir. Be assured you will hear from us again.”
The man blinked, seemingly unsure how to respond to her heated words.
Quinn started to follow them out, but the director stepped forward.
“Mr. Aspinall. A moment, if you will.”
Quinn stiffened. “Yes?”
“May I ask what you intend to do now?”
Quinn regarded him coolly. “If you’re asking whether I am going to press charges against the man who beat my brother, I’d like nothing better than to see the cretin behind bars. However, I have no real evidence other than Harry’s testimony, and I’ll not put him through the horror of reliving the experience again.”
“I understand.” Mr. Hobday stroked his chin. “What I meant is, what do you intend to do about Harry? He is still bound by his contract. When he is recovered, he will have to return for a new placement.”
Quinn’s chest muscles tightened, and he fought to contain the anger that crept into his voice. “Harry may never get over the trauma of his assault, and I certainly won’t subject him to the possibility of it occurring again. I intend to take my brother home.” He pinned the man with a hard stare. “Now I must ask what you intend to do in light of my plans for Harry?” He held the man’s gaze, his challenge unmistakable. If Mr. Hobday desired, he could create a lot of trouble for the Aspinalls.
The man paused for a moment, then walked back to the desk. He pulled a sheet of paper from the blotter and went over to toss it in the fireplace. “I believe Mr. Wolfe’s correspondence must have gotten lost in transit. By the time another letter reaches our office, I won’t have any idea how to find Harry.” He gave Quinn a pointed look.
“Good.” Quinn put on his cap and nodded. “Just make sure you never send another boy out to that man’s farm again.”
Mr. Hobday’s features turned grim. “On that you have my word, sir.”
“Thank you. I trust you’ll do your best to ensure no other boys suffer a similar fate. Good day.”