Page 13 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
“Then I suggest you dress it in an oyster sauce, because I did so as recently as seventeen ninety-four,” Samuel joked, settling into the Chippendale chair before Anne’s desk. “If the crime lords of St. Giles don’t take a day off, then neither do I. So, what’s this news you mentioned in your note? I’m especially curious given your exploits yesterday morning. Does it have anything to do with—”
“Climbing boys,” Anne said, finishing Samuel’s sentence for him. Samuel’s passion was the welfare of children, and one of his main initiatives involved the working conditions of climbing boys, sometimes called sweeps’ apprentices. Samuel was both lobbying to strengthen the Chimney Sweepers Act and pushing for better enforcement of the paltry laws already on the books.
“I knew it,” he breathed. “Tell me everything.”
Anne proceeded to do just that. “I fear I raged at him, right in front of a crowd of two hundred. They’ve even turned it into a cartoon.”
“I saw it this morning. You were truly an avenging angel.”
Anne shook her head. “I worry it will scare off donors to the Ladies’ Society. How I wish I had bitten my tongue.”
“You did the right thing, so hold your chin up.”
Anne gave him a tight smile. “I learned several things of note. I ended up removing two climbing boys from their former master. Nick and Johnny are their names. Johnny was the one stuck in the flue, and Nick… how I wish you could have seen dear Nick exerting himself, doing everything possible to facilitate Johnny’s rescue. When the building owner insisted there was no point in opening up the wall because Johnny was probably dead already, it was Nick who scrambled up that dangerously narrow chimney and confirmed he was still breathing. Then he climbed the gutter pipe like a squirrel to show the mason where to dig and scurried around the roof, stacking the loose bricks out of the way so the mason could work more quickly. Well, I wasn’t about to leave any child in such a deplorable situation, and especially not after that. But the master sweep kicked up quite a fuss about me taking Nick, as apparently he’s quite good at what he does.” Anne picked at the sleeve of her riding habit. “I fear I shouted at him, too. He was trying to drag Nick away, but fortunately I had the crowd behind me—”
“I should say so,” Samuel said, looking amused.
Anne cleared her throat. “Neither boy knows their precise age, but Johnny could not be older than five, and Nick looks to be about eight. Given that Nick told me he passed four Christmases with his master sweep, Mr. Smithers…”
“They both started when they were underaged,” Samuel said.
“Precisely.” The Chimney Sweepers Act did not offer nearly sufficient protections, but it did mandate that climbing boys be at least eight years old.
“So where did this Smithers fellow get not one but two underaged boys?”
“I asked him precisely that. I asked what workhouse apprenticed out a boy so young. His face turned scarlet, and he said it was none of my affair. But then he said something revealing.”
Samuel leaned forward. “Do tell.”
“As I was taking Johnny and Nick away, Smithers offered a parting shot. He said it didn’t matter because he would have two new boys from his lordship by that afternoon.”
“From his lordship?” Samuel asked. “You’re certain that’s what he said?”
“Absolutely certain. I asked him what he meant by his lordship, and a look of panic crossed his face. He rushed off after that, but I thought you should know.”
Samuel steepled his fingers, lost in thought. “It could be a nickname. This person might not actually be a lord.”
“It could,” Anne agreed. “But whoever he is, it sounds as if he funnels a steady stream of underaged boys to the master sweeps of London.”
“It certainly does.” Samuel shook his head. “What could Nick and Johnny tell you?”
“I haven’t interviewed them yet. They both had quite the ordeal yesterday, and I wanted to give them a chance to get settled.”
“They’re staying at your lodging house?”
“Yes.” The Ladies’ Society’s primary initiative was running a lodging house that provided two hundred women and children with a safe place to live for a price that didn’t constitute extortion. Most of Anne’s residents were widows with children and now and again she could find someone willing to take in an orphaned child. There was a particular resident Anne had immediately thought of, a widow named Mrs. Briggs, who had raised five boys of her own and liked nothing better than having a whole pack of them underfoot. As Anne had hoped, Mrs. Briggs had been delighted to look after Nick and Johnny.
“If they feel up to it,” Anne continued, “I’ll speak to them today.”
Samuel rubbed at his forehead. “Those poor boys. How are they faring? Did Johnny suffer any permanent injuries or—”
“He seems to be recovering remarkably well,” Anne hastened to reassure him. “I sent for a physician and, although it’s early, he could find no signs of lasting damage.”
Samuel sagged back in his chair. “Thank God. Whenever I see something like this, I always wonder if that’s what happened to Robbie, and—” He broke off, running a hand over his face.
Robbie was Samuel’s little brother. Their father was a physician, and Samuel had been sent to Britain at the age of fourteen to complete his education just as his father had gone to Edinburgh years before to obtain his medical degree. Samuel was nineteen years old and training at the Inns of Court when he received word that his parents had both been killed in a carriage accident. He set sail for Jamaica to retrieve his little brother, Robbie, who’d been eight years old at the time. But when he arrived, he found that an unscrupulous cousin had seized his father’s property and packed his brother off to England to work as someone’s servant.
Samuel immediately turned around and sailed back to London. But he had never been able to find out what became of Robbie.
