“You must not fret about that,” Mrs. Peters encouraged. “I would never have recommended you if I thought you would fail.”
Alice spoke up. “I did bring along some pieces of your mother’s jewelry. I thought you could sell it if it came to that.”
“I just might have to,” Georgie said, then gagged as an awful smell wafted through the window. “What is that terrible stench?”
Alice reached over and closed the window. “We are in the rookeries now.”
Georgie brought her hand up to her scrunched nose. “I don’t think I have smelled anything so foul before. It’s awful.”
She turned her attention towards the window and saw poorly constructed, blackened dwellings crammed together. Men with patched trousers and women in shapeless, faded dresses walked along the gloomy pavements. It was a far cry from what she was accustomed to.
Alice appeared unaffected by the smell. “I grew up a few miles down the street, a few blocks from the River Thames,” she shared.
“I hadn’t realized that you lived in the rookeries.”
“It was shortly after my sixth birthday that my mother arranged for me to work at your townhouse.”
“You were only six?” Georgie asked in disbelief.
“I was, and I was lucky to find work,” Alice replied. “I worked my way all the way up from a scullery maid.”
Mrs. Peters nodded approvingly. “And you did a fine job at that.”
“My mother still lives in the rookeries, and I try to visit her whenever I am able to,” Alice said, “but I’m afraid those opportunities are scarce.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Georgie asked. “I would have gladly given you time off to visit your mother.”
“I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“That is rubbish. You must go visit your mother more frequently now that we are in close proximity to her.”
Alice gave her a grateful look. “Thank you.”
The coach came to a stop in front of a two-level faded red brick building. A sign above the door announced it as the Cobbett Orphanage for Young Women. The building, though old, was well-kept, and the pavement in front had recently been swept.
A footman stepped off his perch and approached the main door. He knocked and waited for a long moment. The door was opened by a thin woman with a pointed nose. She spoke to the footman, but not before casting a disapproving look at the coach.
The footman walked over to the coach and opened the door. “I would suggest you make haste inside, miss,” he advised as he offered his hand.
Georgie accepted his assistance and exited the coach. As she released his hand, she noticed grubby-looking men loitering in the alleyways near the orphanage, and she found herself shuddering at their blatant perusal.
“Do not give them any heed,” Alice said as she came to stand next to her. “They are just surprised to see a lady in this part of town.”
Mrs. Peters headed towards the open door of the orphanage. “Come along, then,” she encouraged over her shoulder.
They walked into the brick building and stopped in the modest entry hall. The thin woman greeted them with a critical eye. “I am Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper here,” she said. “You must be Miss Lloyd.”
Georgie opened her mouth to correct the housekeeper when Mrs. Peters met her gaze, her eyes urging her to remain quiet.
Mrs. Hughes continued. “Mr. Mason informed me that you would be arriving today, but your room is not ready yet,” she revealed. “I’m afraid I have had more pressing issues to deal with.”
“That is understandable,” Georgie remarked.
“No doubt your room will not be what you are accustomed to, but you will have clean sheets,” Mrs. Hughes said. “I have yet to hang the drapes, but I have rid your room of the rats.”
“Rats?” Georgie asked.
Mrs. Hughes’s lips twitched. “The rookeries are overrun with rats, and we have no choice but to share the space with them.”
