Page 23 of Maid for the Duke

‘No, but the future does not look great for them, even if we muddle through the next few years. Marie will probably have to go into domestic service when she is ten or twelve and Harriet will follow her. Charles will be the worst off. He won’t ever remember when things were better. This is his whole life. He will not have the memories of the happy times to sustain him.’

Will did not say anything. Any reassurance he’d try to give would be hollow. It was well known that people did not rise from the slums to live long, happy, successful lives. Everything was stacked against them and trying to convince her otherwise would be nothing but lies.

‘Charles does not even know how to read or write; even Harriet is only halfway through her education. At least I had a wonderful childhood. I learned to play piano, to paint watercolours. I spent my summers running through the countryside and coming home to freshly baked delicacies. All they will have is this slum and a childhood of misery.’

‘They have you,’ Will said softly. ‘Do not underestimate the importance of love. Growing up secure in the knowledge that someone loves you is as important as some of these other things you mention.’

‘They do have me, but they deserve so much more.’

As they rounded the corner, Will saw the house they had stopped outside the evening before. In the daylight it looked even worse, the brickwork filthy and the windows grimy.

‘I do not wish to impose,’ Will said, looking around to see if there was somewhere he could wait for her. ‘Are you planning to take your sisters and brother out for the day? Perhaps I could escort you from this area and then I will leave you to enjoy their company.’

Amelie considered for a moment and then shook her head. ‘Come inside. I am grateful for your concern, Your Grace.’

‘Will,’ he said. ‘Please, when it is just the two of us, please call me Will.’

Hardly anyone used his given name anymore, not since Catherine had died a little over a year ago. He expected her to protest, but instead she nodded.

‘Will,’ she said quietly. In that moment he would have given anything for her to say his name again, softly, just for him, followed by a long, lingering kiss.

Instead she turned back to the house, squared her shoulders and made her way to the front door.

‘Amelie!’ A skinny young girl who had the same eyes as Amelie opened the door, her face lighting up as she saw her sister. Another girl followed close behind her, throwing herself past her older sister to embrace Amelie.

Amelie’s smile wavered as she bent to kiss each one in turn. ‘Oh, my darlings. I have missed you. It warms my heart to see you.’

A little boy pushed himself up from where he had been sitting on a threadbare rug, his movements a little sluggish, but the smile on his face stretching wide.

‘It is good to see you up and about, mon trésor.’

‘Amelie.’ A sharp voice came from the other room and a woman in her fourth or fifth decade stepped through the open door, wiping her hands on a cloth.

Will took the opportunity to look around, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had prepared himself for poverty, but he had not expected such frailty in the children—the pale skin, the lifeless hair, the slightly scared look in their eyes. Rage flared inside him and he battled to suppress it. This was Amelie’s burden, not his. He had no right to storm in and tear their world apart.

Amelie stepped further into the dingy rooms, her brother and sisters clinging to her as she faced up to Mrs Creedy.

‘Have you brought the money you owe me? I’m not a charity worker, I need to be paid.’

‘Charles has been ill.’

‘Congestion of the chest. He’s getting better. I paid for the medicine out of my own purse so you’ll owe that too,’ Mrs Creedy said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

‘The girls look thin…’ Amelie said, her voice quiet, but there was a steely undertone.

Mrs Creedy scoffed. ‘I feed them plenty. They’re fussy little madams, that’s the problem.’

He saw Amelie stiffen and wondered at how she kept control of her temper.

‘You’re welcome to take them elsewhere if you’re not happy with my care,’ Mrs Creedy said, a triumphant note in her voice. The widow must have known of Amelie’s impossible situation. It was heartbreaking to see the hope in the three children’s eyes as they looked at their older sister.

For a long moment, Amelie did not speak and then her shoulders sagged. ‘How much do I owe you for the medicine?’ Her voice was flat, almost lifeless.

‘Come through to the kitchen and you can settle the whole amount you owe.’

Will was left with the three children looking at him with a mix of curiosity and distrust.

‘Good morning,’ he said, lifting his hat and then feeling a little ridiculous.