Page 76 of An Uncommon Earl

“That’s right.” Alexander could not bring himself to ask about their living conditions in Norton Ripley, but he made a mental note to add that to the list of concerns he would be giving to the magistrate.

The carriage door opened, and Alexander stepped out. “Remain here, if you would,” he told the driver. “I should not be long.”

He waited for the boys to join him, then he led them up the shallow steps to the hospital’s front door and rapped on it loudly with the brass knocker. All around them, the sound of running and dripping water echoed through the quiet courtyard. One of the carriage horses sneezed, and Elijah started.

“Maybe they won’t let us in,” the little boy said, his anxious eyes reflecting the light of the hissing lantern.

“Oh, they will let us in,” Alexander said, raising the knocker again. “I intend to keep up this racket until they do.”

Thankfully, it took only one more knock before Alexander heard a bolt slide back and the door opened to reveal a servant girl.

“Begging your pardon, my lord,” she said. “The hospital is closed for the night.”

“I understand that,” Alexander said, “but my business with the director cannot wait.”

She opened the door wide enough to allow them in. “I will see what I can do, my lord.”

She left them standing in the hall and disappeared through the door behind the desk.

David and Elijah gazed around the room in awe.

“What is this place?” David said.

“It’s called the Foundling Hospital,” Alexander said. “You were both brought here by your mothers as infants. Soon afterward, you were sent to the Stanleys with the understanding that at the age of five you were to return to receive some schooling and occupational training.”

“It’s big,” Elijah said. He moved closer to David, and the older boy took his hand.

The door behind the desk opened, and the servant girl reappeared with the supercilious Mr. Morris right behind her. “Mr. Morris can help you, my lord.” She bobbed a curtsy and disappeared.

“Lord Bloxley,” Mr. Morris said with a bow. “I had not expected to see you again so soon.”

“Nor I you,” Alexander said, barely repressing his frustration. “I believe I made myself clear to your servant. I am here to see the director.”

“She did tell me as much.” Mr. Morris offered him a conciliatory smile. “But as Mr. Barrett does not come into the office on the weekends, I am more than happy to assist you.”

Alexander gritted his teeth. “Mr. Morris, does the Foundling Hospital currently have a director by the name of Mr. Barrett?”

“Why, yes, my lord.”

“And is said gentleman currently in residence?”

“He returned from Liverpool just last week, my lord.”

“In which case, I expect to see him in his office within the next fifteen minutes.” He eyed the man icily. “Have I made myself completely understood?”

“Fifteen minutes, my lord.” Mr. Morris began backing up. “I shall tell him.”

By Alexander’s pocket watch, their wait ended about twelve and a half minutes later, when Mr. Morris entered the hall slightly out of breath.

“If you will come with me, my lord, Mr. Barrett will see you now.”

“This way, boys,” Alexander said, and without a word, David and Elijah fell into step behind him.

They walked into a small office filled with heavy, dark furniture. The fireplace was empty and the room chilled. The servant who had answered the door was hurriedly lighting a couple of candles on the desk, and a portly man with his white wig askew was watching her with barely concealed impatience.

“Yes, yes. That will do, Betsy. Thank you.”

“Very good, Mr. Barrett.” The girl bobbed a curtsy and scurried out of the room.