Chapter 21

Traveling to a local jail had not been on his agenda for the day—or ever, if the truth were known.

Coming to a stop in front of the cell a policeman had directed him to, Reginald blinked as he peered through the bars and got his first glimpse of Poppy, Viola, and Murray.

To say they looked the worse for wear was an understatement.

Murray’s nose was once again dripping blood. He’d lost his hat and his hair was standing on end as he slouched on the wooden bench he was sharing with Poppy.

Viola was sitting stiff as a poker on the other side of Poppy. Her face, what could be seen of it since she’d pulled a woven cap down almost over her eyes, was smudged with dirt. Her jacket was torn and filthy, and the trousers she was wearing, which were something he’d never imagined a grand society lady wearing, were covered in mud and sported a large tear in one of the knees.

Poppy, quite like her grandmother, was filthy from head to toe, her cap pulled down as well, but not far enough to where the curiosity in her eyes was hidden as she leaned closer to Viola, whispering something that had Viola nodding.

Relief flowed freely as Reginald realized Poppy was unharmed, although that relief was mixed with a hefty dose of exasperation, since she’d once again managed to become involved in another bout of mayhem, this one of epic proportions.

When he’d received Murray’s hastily scribbled note, telling him that Poppy, Beatrix, and Viola were insisting on traveling to the House of Industry, Reginald had thrown on his clothes and summoned a hansom cab a mere five minutes later. Bouncing his way through the early morning traffic, he’d thought he’d prepared himself for whatever mischief Poppy was certain to have landed in, never imagining he’d be forced to fight his way through a mob.

He certainly hadn’t imagined he’d find Poppy slung over some man’s back, yelling at the top of her lungs as the man carried her through the crowd.

His heart had missed a beat as he’d plunged into that crowd after her, but before he’d been able to catch her, he’d been surrounded by furious men who’d begun swinging their fists at anything that moved.

By the time he’d fought his way free of those men, Poppy had somehow managed to become parted with the man who’d seemingly been about to abduct her and was being thrown into a wagon stuffed with protestors. Knowing he’d have little chance of seeing her removed from the wagon, not with all the chaos surrounding it, he’d had no choice but to run behind the wagon as it trundled away, keeping pace until it had passed through a gate that led directly to a jail.

A good two hours had passed before he’d finally been able to talk to someone about seeing her released. His plan to pay her bail, however, had come to a rapid end when he’d realized he’d become parted from his billfold at some point in time, probably while he’d been fighting his way through the mob. That pesky problem meant he had no available funds to secure her release, a situation he could certainly rectify, but one that annoyed him because if he’d realized his billfold had been pilfered, he would have returned to his hotel straightaway to fetch more funds instead of waiting around.

“Ah, Reginald, thank the good Lord you got my note.”

Reginald blinked as Murray charged his way, gripping the bars that separated them with white knuckles, relief evident in his eyes. “Please tell me you’ve been able to secure our release.”

Wincing, Reginald shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Murray. I’ve apparently been a victim of a pickpocket, so all of you will need to sit tight a bit longer until I can fetch more funds. I’m simply here to tell you not to worry because I will get all of you released at some point today, but . . . where’s Beatrix?”

“Last I saw her, she was leading some young girls out of the crowd,” Murray said, “which has me hoping she managed to avoid the dastardly business of being carted off to jail.”

“And has me hoping that when she finds us here, she’ll know exactly how to get us released,” Poppy said, moving up to join Murray.

“Unless she was a victim of pickpockets as well,” Reginald said, trying to ignore that Poppy, even in her bedraggled state, was looking rather adorable, what with the dirt smudged across her nose and bits of hair straggling out from underneath the cap on her head. He felt the oddest urge to reach through the bars and pull her toward him, needing to feel her in the flesh to truly ascertain she’d not been harmed.

“On my word, I forgot. I have money with me,” Poppy said right before she unbuttoned her jacket. A second later she began rummaging around underneath her shirt, stilling when Murray drew in a sharp breath and gave a bob of his head toward two men on the other side of the cell, who were now watching Poppy far too closely.

“Do you want to start another riot?” Murray whispered furiously.

“Since I’ve just realized my money must have fallen out when I was upside down over that man’s back, there’s nothing to riot about,” she whispered back as she withdrew her hand and buttoned herself back up. She caught Reginald’s eye. “I guess it’ll be up to you to track down our bail money now, and may I suggest you get on your way so that we don’t have to linger long in this cell?”

Reginald’s jaw clenched, as did his hands as he realized the two men were now watching her more intently than ever. “I’m not leaving you now, not when those men have apparently realized you’re no man and are looking at you like they’ve just found their next meal.”

She lifted her chin. “How was I to know I’d draw such attention?”

Reginald ran a hand over his beard. “You wouldn’t be drawing attention at all if you’d had the good sense to remain in your home today, trimming the house for Christmas instead of dashing off to Five Points on a madcap adventure.”

Poppy’s chin rose another inch. “We weren’t on a madcap adventure, and we couldn’t have known we’d find ourselves dragged into a riot.”

“But you should have known, what with your peculiar proclivity for attracting trouble, that something unforeseen would transpire. At the very least, you should have waited for me, or even your grandfather, to accompany you.”

“My grandmother accompanied us,” Poppy shot back.

“Which is rather bewildering in and of itself, although given that she’s languishing with you in the jail cell, I’m not certain I understand your point.”

“A valid observation.” Poppy nodded to Murray. “We brought Murray with us.”

“Who is also behind bars.”

Murray sent him a weak smile before turning to Poppy. “I don’t believe you’re going to win this particular argument.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “I imagine Maisie will not think as highly of me once she learns I was unable to keep us all out of jail.”

Poppy rubbed a soothing hand down Murray’s arm. “Nonsense. I imagine Maisie will be nothing less than impressed with the dashing way you ran afoul of an enraged mob and lived to tell the tale.” She caught Reginald’s eye and gave a slight nod, quite as if she was encouraging him to agree with her.

Reginald, no matter that Poppy was looking adorable, was not in an accommodating frame of mind. “There’s nothing remotely dashing about being arrested, and Murray will be fortunate if Mrs. Leggett, whom I’ve discovered is a rather overprotective mother, ever allows him to see Maisie again.”

“That’s hardly helpful,” Poppy said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I’m not feeling the urge to be helpful at the moment.” He turned to Murray. “You should have tried harder to dissuade Poppy and Beatrix from today’s madness.”

Murray’s brows drew together. “I did send you a note, begging for help. Besides, it’s not as if you’ve seen much success in dissuading Poppy from anything she’s set her mind on lately.”

Reginald frowned. “True, but I bet Viola could have been persuaded to see reason.”

“Where do you think Poppy gets her stubborn nature?” Murray countered before he shot a glance to Viola, who was inching her way from the man on the bench with her, her inching coming to an abrupt end when she ran out of room. Murray returned his gaze to Reginald and shuddered. “Viola was adamant about joining us after she discovered us making plans in the carriage house. She even made me fetch her men’s clothing, not particularly concerned that I was going to have to do some fancy talking to explain to Mr. Parsons why I needed to borrow clothing in the first place, since I was already dressed for the day.”

“She actually wanted to come with us,” Poppy added, leveling a stern gaze on Reginald. “Which means you can swallow that lecture I’m sure you’re dying to give me about dragging my poor, elderly grandmother to the slums, where she then, quite accidently, got arrested.”

“I’m not elderly, dear,” Viola suddenly called. “And it’s my own fault I got arrested, what with how a policeman saw me slap a man after he almost bowled me over.” She waved a hand covered in a tattered glove toward a man sitting on the opposite side of the cell. “He’s right over there if you’d like to corroborate my story.”

The man waved back at Viola and smiled, revealing a few missing teeth. “I sure am sorry about shovin’ you, ma’am. Knew I’d made a mistake after you slapped me instead of punched me, which had me realizin’ you were no man.”

Even though Viola looked a bit taken aback that the man was speaking to her, she did incline her head. “Apology accepted, and you did try to intervene with the policeman who unjustly hauled me to a police wagon . . . which is exactly what landed you in jail, which I am sorry about.” She smiled. “It was a gallant gesture on your part, so do know that I’ll make sure you’re released today as well, just as soon as that young man over there gets on with matters and goes off to fetch bail money.” She caught Reginald’s eye. “But don’t go seeking the funds from George. I don’t think there’s any reason for him to learn about this little jaunt of mine. Wouldn’t want to give him fodder for whenever he becomes cross with me over the next twenty years or so.”

“You should have thought about that before,” Reginald said, which earned him a narrowing of the eyes from Viola before she deliberately turned away from him.

“You’ve annoyed her now,” Poppy muttered, a statement Reginald didn’t believe there was any need to address.

“Why did that man try to make off with you?” he asked instead.

“Probably because he was the same man who stole my reticule and recognized me.”

“Are you certain about that?”

“Of course I am, although what are the odds that I’d just happen to encounter a member of the criminal persuasion more than once, and in different parts of the city?”

“I would think those odds would be slim to none, which could mean this man’s been following you.”

Poppy released a bit of a snort. “I highly doubt that. Why would anyone of the criminal persuasion bother to stalk me? It’s more likely this was only a chance encounter that lent the man an opportunity to extract a measure of retribution for thwarting him the first time.”

Murray swiped a hand over a nose that was still dribbling blood, ignoring that blood as he settled his full attention on Poppy. “Maybe the person who seems intent on disrupting your first New York Season has decided to up the stakes and get you to leave New York once and for all, and has hired members of the criminal persuasion to persuade you to do just that.”

Poppy wrinkled her nose. “While I can certainly see Adele or a few of the other ladies out this Season scattering some musket balls to disrupt my tea, I can’t imagine, given the sheltered life those ladies lead, that any of them would know how to go about hiring someone from the criminal class.”

“True,” Murray said with a nod right before he froze on the spot and emitted what sounded like a squeak.

“What?” Poppy asked, craning her neck to look at something behind Reginald before her eyes widened. “Grandfather . . . what are you doing here?”

Before Reginald could turn, George was standing directly beside him.

“What do you think I’m doing here? I’ve come to bail you out,” George said, peering through the bars, his gaze settled on Viola, who had taken an absorbed interest in the ceiling, completely neglecting to acknowledge her husband, almost as if by not acknowledging him, he wasn’t really standing directly outside her cell.

George’s lips began to twitch. “Imagine my astonishment,” he began cheerfully, “when Beatrix came to fetch me after being forced to leave all of you behind in Five Points because you’d been arrested and thrown into jail.”

Viola abandoned her perusal of the ceiling and looked at her husband. “We were fairly astonished to find ourselves behind bars too.”

George nodded as he looked his wife up and down. “You’re a mess, Viola, and I’ve never seen you wear trousers before. Do you know there’s a tear in one of your knees?”

Viola glanced down. “Ah, so there is. Must have happened when I was shoved aside.”

“And then she slapped me, which had me knowin’ she was no man,” the man missing a few teeth said as he sent a smile Viola’s way. “I’d not mistake you for a man again because you’re the most beautiful critter I ever seen.”

“I believe you mean creature, dear,” Viola corrected, which had the man smiling wider than ever as he nodded.

“Creature, that’s the word. Don’t know what I was thinkin’ callin’ you a critter.”

“And I’m certain I don’t know what to think about any of this,” a lady drawled from behind Reginald, which had him turning as Poppy suddenly reached through the bars and took the hand the lady immediately held out to her.

“Mother!” Poppy exclaimed. “What in the world are you doing here?”

The lady, who was apparently Elizabeth Garrison, a lady Poppy distinctly resembled, let out a throaty laugh. “Why, I’ve come to New York for Christmas, my darling.” Her gaze shifted from Poppy to Viola. “Good thing I have because I must say, there’s something about seeing you behind bars, Mother, that lends the impression that Christmas has certainly come early this year.”