The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford

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       THIRTY-FOUR

      The sunlight filtering in through the many glass windows in the conservatory cast a soft golden glow on everything on this sunny May Saturday.

      Amos Finnister glanced around, admiring the room, which was airy and lighthearted, yet extremely comfortable with wicker chairs and sofas filled with plump cushions, and matching occasional tables. It overflowed with white orchids and others of more brilliant hues. Nan Watkins’s pride and joy, they were glorious, and Neville’s wife had created an indoor garden that was serene and peaceful, a quiet haven.

      Will Hasling, who was sitting with Amos, broke the silence when he said, ‘I have finally met Rose, and she is the loveliest little girl. My sister and Mr Forth are thrilled to have her, and Rose is lucky to have fallen into their laps, so to speak, thanks to you.’

      Amos looked across at Will, inclined his head. He had grown to like this young man, found him admirable in many ways, not the least in his devotion to Edward Deravenel, his genuine loyalty to him. Will was also intelligent, well informed about business and politics, and a warm-hearted, kind person.

      ‘I wonder if you understand how truly lucky the child has been?’ Amos asked in a low voice.

      ‘To a certain extent, yes, I do. She could have died out there alone on the streets, from hunger or exposure, or she could have been seriously injured in some way. Or taken by the wrong kind of person, someone who might have easily abused her, hurt her.’

      A shadow crossed Amos’s face, his mouth tightened; there was a long reflective pause before he finally said, ‘The latter would have been the worst, in my opinion. If you’re dead you’re free…certainly from further harm. Injured, you’re in hospital hopefully, or being looked after somewhere safe. On the other hand, if you’re grabbed by the wrong people, forget it.’ He shook his head and there was a sudden sorrow on his face. ‘Those kind are unscrupulous. They’re the ones who sell children to brothels and to white slave-traders, who ship them abroad to be re-sold like so much cattle in markets dealing in humans. Boys as well as girls. Sold to brothels, where they are in bondage for the rest of their lives. They never escape.’ Amos paused, and for a moment he looked pained, his eyes weary, his face pale. He sighed, then he noticed that Will was watching him closely, obviously interested in what he was saying.

      Amos continued more slowly, ‘Then there are those criminals who run gangs of children, they teach them how to be criminals, to steal in the streets and on the river ferries crossing the Thames…they are trained to be pickpockets, and they become dangerous little thieves, and they, too, are doomed to a life of crime and degradation.’

      Will Hasling sat back, staring at Amos, a man whom he had come to like, respect and trust. After a moment, Will remarked, ‘There’s a whole world out there that few people are aware of. Especially people like me, who don’t know much about crime and criminals and the East End.’ He grimaced and added, ‘We’re not all that well informed, I’m afraid, are we?’

      ‘That’s true, sir. And you know, it takes all sorts to make a world,’ Amos answered. ‘Some of the worst types reside in Whitechapel, Limehouse, Southwark, and the environs. On the other hand, by the same token, there are innumerable good, upstanding, law-abiding citizens living there as well. Rose could have ended up being taken in by good people. However, more than likely they would have been very poor, and she would have been an extra mouth to feed. It would have made it tough on them, and she would have been a terrible burden.’

      ‘Rose had a narrow escape, I understand what you’ve been saying,’ Will murmured quietly. ‘And I do have a bit of knowledge from my sister. She has told me a little about those awful places—the rookeries, in particular. They sound vile.’

      ‘They’re foul. Unspeakable broken-down tenements surrounded by dark alleys and cul-de-sacs, underground tunnels, dead-end ginnels and yards. The rookeries are enormous slums, and dangerous, Will, hard for you to comprehend. It’s a violent world in there, not even the police go in unless they have to, and they never go in alone or even in twos and threes. They enter as a large posse so that they can protect each other.’

      Leaning forward, Will now said, ‘You’ve painted quite a picture, a terrible picture, and what I don’t understand is why they’re not torn down?’

      ‘And where would they go, the poor who live there? Answer me that.’

      ‘I don’t know, but what you’ve described is something inhuman.’ Will shook his head vehemently, his eyes bleak, anger flickering there. ‘Here we are, you and I, sitting in this beautiful house in Chelsea, living in the greatest, most influential, and biggest capital city in the entire world. London. Centre of a great Empire, the greatest there has ever been. We are a prosperous, innovative, industrious nation. We are influential around the world. Money is plentiful. London—in fact the whole country—is flourishing. And we are a kindly, humane race by nature. So, you tell me why the rookeries exist.’

      ‘I wish I could. I’ve often asked myself that, and I’ve come up with no real answers. There are people who try to help such as Dr Barnardo, who started the homes for waifs and strays. He has been most successful. Other open-handed wealthy people, women in particular, have done much to alleviate terrible situations, and then there’s the home Lady Fenella and her aunt started for destitute women. Mind you, I understand what you’re saying…why doesn’t the government do something? Am I right?’

      ‘Exactly. It’s so appalling, it makes me feel sickened, and ashamed, and now I truly understand why my sister has wanted to work with Lady Fenella and has given her money for Haddon House.’ He smiled. ‘By helping those much less fortunate she has found the child she has dreamed about. As for Rose, she must have a guardian angel watching over her.’

      ‘And she has a few angels here,’ Amos pointed out, some of the tension leaving him. He went on, with a sudden warmth, ‘Not only Lady Fenella, Mrs Forth and Mr Forth, but also Hugh Codrill. He has arranged everything in the most proper and legal way. Your sister СКАЧАТЬ