Mr. Allan removed the dried flowers, replacing them with the fresh violets. He tooka deep breath when he straightened, as though tending to the grave brought him immense satisfaction. “I was away for two months, and it broke my heart to know nobody tended to Martha. But my mother needed me.”
“Is she ill?” Alex asked, adding a hastily, “I’m sorry to hear it.”
Mr. Allan took off his cap. “Thank you, Miss. She lived a good life and will need me no more, though I will miss her just as I miss my dear Martha. They leave, and I remain.”
They stood together in respectful silence until Mr. Allan replaced his cap and spoke. “Now, how may I help you? Your Lordship mentioned you had some questions?”
Miss Rothschild spoke softly. “Did your beloved have any friends or family, aside from you?”
“Not that I know of. She was a quiet person who kept to herself.” He sighed, saying more to himself than to anybody, “She saw a great deal too much and kept many secrets.”
Drawing closer to him, her eyes intent on Mr. Allan, Miss Rothschild said, “It is one of those secrets which led us here to you.”
He nodded, eyes downcast. “You one of ‘em?” he asked.
Darcy swallowed his gasp.
“One of the stolen children? Yes, I believe I am,” she answered.
Another nod. “I suggested to Martha that she keep a list of the babes as well as the families they went to.”
“Does such a list exist?” Richard asked, eyes bright.
“Not by Martha’s hand. She resented them, you see.” He looked up, eyes pleading, “How could she not when she was denied everything they took for granted? She had no parents, no kin willing to claim her and give her a home. Everything she gained, she had to fight for tooth and nail.”
Elizabeth’s voice was gentle. “We are not here to defame her character. We only wish to know the truth and restore the stolen children to their rightful places.”
He finally looked up, inspecting their faces one by one. After several minutes, he said, “I worked at the orphanage. My family couldn’t afford to keep me, and I took on any work I could find nearby. The orphanage was a horrible place, but that was where I met Martha. She had all the plans. I had none. She dreamed of escaping and making her own way, certain of her success. I’d still be working at the orphanage if it weren’t for her. I almost wish she hadn’t left. ‘Twas her ambition what killed her.”
“She did not die of natural causes?” Uncle asked.
“My Martha was as fit as a fiddle.”
“What do you think happened?” prodded Miss Rothschild.
Mr. Allan hesitated. Whatever his thoughts were, they were contradictory and difficult. Crossing his arms over his chest, he looked levellyat Uncle. “Do I have your word as a peer that you will not make known what I will tell you?”
“That is not a promise I can give lightly.”
“All the same, I will have it, or I will remain silent.”
Uncle tucked his chin into his chest and exhaled.
Mr. Allan added, “Martha’s sins were forgiven at her death. There is no reason for her memory to be maligned when there are precious few who remember her.”
“None of us are interested in smearing the name of the departed, but we do seek answers. If these crimes are continuing and your information assists us in bringing the criminals to justice, then I am prepared to give proper credit to you for sharing what you choose.” Uncle paused, securing Mr. Allan’s full attention before he pulled a pouch of coins from his pocket. “And proper remuneration, of course.”
Mr. Allan pocketed the purse eagerly. “I see you are a fair gentleman. I will tell you what I know.” He looked at Darcy, then at Nick. “It started at Pemberley—your family’s estate, I presume?”
Darcy nodded, too breathless to speak.
“Martha wasn’t there, but she was a clever one who put two and two together. She heard of a midwife who required a young, fit nurse to assist her. Mrs. Finchley was recommended among the first circles; she had a reputation for never losing a lady.” He added softly, “They ought to have been more concerned with the babes.”
Darcy held his breath, as though his doing so would make Mr. Allan speak faster.
“She had another nurse at the time—Martha would never have agreed with the scheme, though she contrived to profit from it once it was done—a Mrs. Currey. In her business, it is not uncommon for childless families of a certain class to offer exorbitant sums for an heir. I don’t know the details, but something went wrong, and the deal went sour. They disposed of the child as they saw fit, and nobody except Mrs. Currey was the wiser. But it bothered her conscience. She threatened to reveal what Mrs. Finchley had done to the Darcys. Knowing where the child was, she went to fetch him.” He rubbed his hands over his forearms.
“But Mrs. Currey never made it, did she?” Miss Rothschild prompted.
