Twice Upon A Time (Unfinished Fairy Tales #2)(61)
“Nell has a baby, doesn’t she? And so they are experiencing more hardships than before.”
Mr. Wellesley nods. “And that is only part of the story. Did you know that Molly dropped out of that girls’ school you established, not just because she needs to earn more to keep her sister’s baby fed and clothed, but also because McVean slashed their wages into half?”
“He did what? Just because there is less output due to the reduced hours?”
Andrew McVean. That horrible, ruthless man who cares for nothing but profit. His immense wealth is built on blood. I had been trying so hard to let the child workers receive better treatment by passing the Eight-Hour Act, and here he goes and makes things worse. Perhaps his action isn’t surprising, but my anger rises all the same.
“It is not simply because of the reduced output. Along with the new law, Edward established additional measures. The owners have to pay for health insurance and shoulder part of the expense for appointing inspectors. You know, there have to be inspectors to make sure the factory owners are abiding by the new law. What McVean did was certainly unethical, but there is no law that forbids him to do so.”
“You don’t even have a minimum wage in this country?”
Mr. Wellesley raises an eyebrow, and I realize how weird my question sounds. I’m talking as if I am not a citizen of this country.
I cough and change the subject. “Isn’t there anything we can do to help the children?”
“Much has already been accomplished in the past year. Remember, lass, that change is always gradual in a country like ours. Unless our government is more similar to the Moryn empire . . . but I’d take the parliament over the emperor any day. Meanwhile, I’ll keep an eye on Molly and her sister, and if they are tired, they can drop by for a cup of water.” Mr. Wellesley pats my hand. “Don’t worry, lassie. Give it some time. More changes will be implemented, eventually.”
30
I pace in my room—a habit recently acquired from Edward. The sunset is breathtakingly gorgeous, painting the sky red and gold and orange, a view easily appreciated with the huge windows taking up the entire side of the room.
Sooner or later, Liam’s voice echoes in my head, they will all be dropping out.
I put my hands to my head. McVean slashed Molly’s wages, and she is back to working all day. The streets might not be life-threatening compared to the factory, but still, it’s no place for a child. I don’t want Molly becoming like those other flower-girls with savage expressions. She isn’t much better off than before.
And it’s all my fault.
Sinking onto the window seat, I try to calm down and think rationally. Would I have acted differently if I had known Molly would end up selling flowers in the streets? When I remember poor Jimmy with his blood-soaked bandages, I still can’t bring myself to regret what I did. But maybe I could have figured out a better way, made some preventative measures that wouldn’t have led to McVean cutting wages.
The door to our suite creaks, and footsteps, steady and firm, sound on the polished marble floor. Edward must have returned from Parliament. Good. I need someone to listen to me, to discuss with me, to advise me what I should do. There’s no one better than my husband.
Pushing my bangs out of my eyes, I head toward the sitting room. He isn’t there, but there’s a sound coming from the direction of his bedroom. Without thinking, I stride toward his bedroom, finding the door only half-closed. And then I halt.
Edward has just taken his shirt off. He pauses when he sees me, the white linen material dangling on his arm.
Gah . . . my face is burning up. We’re married, but I’ve never seen him half-naked before, given that we have separate bedrooms and he’s always waiting in the sitting room before we go down to breakfast. It lasts only a second, but my glimpse is long enough to take in the muscled, toned body of his. For a moment, I’m tempted to run my hands over his broad golden chest.
“I . . . sorry!” I turn my back on him, feeling my entire head in flames. It’s ridiculous, honestly, me blushing at a guy’s naked chest? I’m no longer a teenager, and here I’m behaving like a girl in middle school. Admit it, Kat. Your attraction to him isn’t purely because of his character. It doesn’t hurt that he’s drop-dead gorgeous.
He chuckles, heightening my embarrassment. A warm hand turns me to face him, and I look up. Edward stands before me, thankfully with his shirt on.
“Never did I expect you’d be so eager to see me.” He runs a finger down my cheek. “When will you stop blushing when confronted with my torso? I thought your world taught you to behave with less modesty. Although I have to say, you look adorable.”
He’s flirting again, but right now, I’m not in the mood.
“I need your help,” I blurt. In terse words, I relate to him how I met Molly and her sister near The Bookworm.
“I thought that when I set out to change the law, I was doing the right thing. I thought I was helping the children.” I bite my lip and look down on the floor. “But now we’re back to the beginning. Nothing has really changed.”
“Do not say so.” Edward steers me to a chair and gestures that I sit in an armchair near the fireplace. His bedroom is larger than mine, but it contains less furniture. There is only one wardrobe, and the dresser is smaller and less cluttered. The pillows are neatly laid, the blankets wrinkle-free, the canopy held back by velvet ropes—it almost appears as if no one has slept in that bed. The austere condition of the bed reflects the austere sex life of its occupant. I curl my toes and, for a wild moment, I let my mind wander to the idea of taking Edward’s hand and leading him to bed.