Page 17 of Charity

“What does a lord look like?”

The little girl scrunched up her face as she considered her answer. “A stuffy, overdressed turnip.”

Oscar stood to his full height, displeased by her words. The little girl scurried back under the desk. After everything the charitable society had done to improve their lives, the expense and effort to take in orphans who’d been deserted by their parents, he was appalled that one so young could speak ill of the trustees. He dragged her out again and held her in place before him.

The little girl shook like a leaf, and Oscar instantly calmed. Perhaps the child knew no better than to speak to him in that way, but she needed to be corrected. And now, before she blurted out those words to someone without his patience.

He sat in the rickety chair so he did not tower above her. “You must not say such things.” The little girl bobbed her head quickly in agreement, eyes glassy-bright as tears threatened to spill. “What is your name?”

“It’s Mabel.”

“Well then, Mabel, I think you should not utter those words again. You should not say such mean things to another soul.”

“But I heard someone else say them. Someone of the quality. I do want to be a lady when I grow up.” Mabel bit her lip as a single tear flowed down her cheek.

Oscar felt like an utter monster. “I’m sure you will, but those are not the words a lady would speak.”

“Is Lady Carrington not a lady? Everyone said she was. She said those things about Lord Carter.” Mabel leaned close to his ear. “He pinches.”

His mother! Heaven help him. “Then stay far away from Lord Carter, but what my mother said was wrong, and I shall have a few words to her about it, too. Now, off you go before you are missed. And don’t let me hear you talk like that again about your betters.”

“Yes, sir.” Mabel skipped toward the door, but stopped at the threshold and scowled at him. “You won’t beat her too badly, will you, my lord? I couldn’t sleep a wink if I got Lady Carrington into too much trouble. She’s too nice to be unhappy.”

“No! No, of course I won’t beat her.” Oscar rubbed his brow. Since he rarely spoke to children, he found the way this particular one spoke rather disconcerting. What kind of rough living had she been exposed to before coming here? “Run along now, Mabel.”

The little girl hurried back to him, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then scurried from the room. Oscar shook his head. What a peculiar little creature.

With the girl gone from sight, Oscar rang the bell. After a lengthy delay, a maid eventually joined him. “Can I help you, my lord?”

“Yes, I’d like a tea tray brought up and Mr. Dickson reminded that I am impatient for his return. Whatever else he is doing can wait.”

The maid bobbed a curtsey and then hurried away. While Oscar waited, he inspected the room. From what he’d seen so far, the property was in dire need of maintenance. The paper on the walls of this room needed repair or replacement, and the entrance hall had been decidedly shabby, too.

Drawing out a little journal from his pocket, he scratched down the details of the repairs required for this room. These matters should be noted to the trustees in his report. He would have to have Mr. Dickson give him a full tour of the place so he did a thorough job of it.

The maid returned with the tray. China rattled as she set it down awkwardly over the messy table surface. “Excuse me, my lord, but I’ve not been able to locate Mr. Dickson.”

“Then look again. I’m not inclined to wait around all day for an employee.”

The maid bobbed another curtsey before hurrying off.

Really, how hard could it be to locate one man in a building housing small children? He grimaced as he poured a cup of pale tea, obviously reused many times, and then settled in to wait.

He’d just finished his second cup when the butler hurried into the room. “Forgive me, my lord. I’ve only just heard that you were looking for Mr. Dickson. I am afraid he went out not long after your arrival.”

“Went out? But the man knew I was waiting for him.”

“I’m sorry, my lord. But he did not say when he would return.” The butler stood rigidly in place, obviously unable to explain more about Dickson’s sudden leave-taking.

“I will have to make do without. Do let me know immediately when he returns.”

“Of course.”

The butler disappeared, leaving Oscar alone with the disaster. Where in God’s name to start? He had the ledger, but those papers really needed to be filed away properly. He grabbed a pile to shuffle them into date order, but one order stood out.

Three barrels of rum.

What in the world did an orphanage need that much rum for? Or any at all?