Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [61]
‘May I ask if you have had any word of my sister?’ Grace was bold enough to ask Miss Charlotte when she was handed her gift.
‘I? Have word of your sister?’ Miss Charlotte’s eyes rounded in surprise. ‘No, of course not. What an extraordinary notion.’
‘I thought someone might have heard something,’ Grace said, ‘and as you had taken a kindly interest in her . . .’
Miss Charlotte shook her head. ‘I have not heard a word, nor would I expect to. I told you she was a little over-friendly with a young man, did I not?’
Grace nodded.
‘There, you see.’
‘See . . . what?’
‘See that once a girl has compromised her reputation in polite society, sometimes her only option is to leave it.’
‘I don’t believe that she –’ Grace began, but Miss Charlotte had swept past her and away, for she was due to give out woollen vests at the Hospital for Fatherless Girls at midday and then attend a magic show.
Grace did not sleep at all that night. Perhaps if her sister hadn’t been how she was; perhaps if they hadn’t always been so close; perhaps if there didn’t seem to be something warped about the whole Unwin empire, she might have believed the story and would not now be turning over more sinister plots in her mind. But why would anyone want to take Lily away? What could possibly be gained from doing such a thing? Grace wrestled with the problem, tossing and turning and sighing, until even the placid Jane was moved to complain about her.
Towards morning, however, she suddenly believed she’d hit upon the terrible reason: the Unwins’ number one interest was making money, and there was a sure way of doing this. Had they taken her simple, gullible sister to make her work as a prostitute?
One heard such tales – and close to home, too. Why, Mrs Macready had once told her of a poor unfortunate kept in the grimy cellars of the house next door expressly for the purpose of prostitution. ‘Never allowed out to take a bit of air,’ she had said. ‘Always kept short of food, suffering from disease and chained up. The poor woman died in the end. When they found her body it had rat bites all over it . . .’ Yes, the more Grace thought about it, the more she feared that was the answer.
x
Four more days elapsed before Grace was able to get to the Inns of Court. Scared of being turned away by Mr Meakers, she gave a street boy a ha’penny to take a message into the chambers and ask for Mr James Solent. After half an hour or so, he came out. They sat together on a bench in the grounds while Grace, embarrassed, tried to find the right words to tell him what she feared.
‘I can assure you that nothing you tell me will go any further,’ he said, sensing her reluctance to speak. ‘When we met, I promised I would help you if I could, and I would still be happy to have the opportunity of doing so.’
Grace pressed her lips together. How to say such a thing?
‘Have you fallen into ways of which you are ashamed?’ he asked gently. ‘Perhaps I can lend you a little money if it will help to remove you from temptation.’
‘No! It is not that!’ Grace said swiftly, shaking her head. ‘Not I!’
‘You are still working for the Unwin family?’
She nodded, then burst out, ‘It’s my sister – she’s disappeared!’
‘Disappeared?’ James asked. ‘From where?’
‘She was working for the Unwins in their Kensington house as a maid,’ Grace said. Then she faltered and began to cry before adding, ‘And one day last week I went round to visit her and she’d gone!’
‘I see. And when you asked where she’d gone, what did they say?’
‘They said that she’d become friendly with a young man and had probably run away with him.’
‘And you don’t think this is true?’
‘It is not!’ Grace shook her head, agitated. ‘My sister would never go off without telling me. She . . . she is a simple girl and sometimes easily led, but she would never just disappear.’
‘But what could be more understandable than that she should meet someone and . . .’
‘She would not!’ Grace burst out. ‘My