Suddenly You(33)

Amanda stared at him with a mixture of horror and compassion. “Were the boys’ parents aware of what was happening to them?” she managed to ask.

“Of course they knew. But they didn’t care if we died. I believe they rather hoped we would. There were never vacations or holidays. No parent ever came to see his boy at Christmas. No visitors came to inspect the conditions there. As I told you, we were unwanted. We were mistakes.”

“A child is not a mistake,” Amanda said, her voice suddenly unsteady.

Fretwell smiled slightly at the futility of the statement, then continued quietly. “When I came to Knatchford Heath, Jack Devlin had already been there for more than a year. I knew at once that he was different from the other boys. He seemed not to fear the teachers and headmaster as the rest of us did. Devlin was strong, clever, confident…in fact, if there was such a thing as a school favorite among students and staff alike, it was he. Not that he escaped the punishments, of course. He was beaten and starved as often as the rest of us. More often, in fact. I soon discovered that he would sometimes take the blame for other boys’ misdeeds and be punished in their stead, knowing that the smaller ones would not be able to survive the severe whippings. And he encouraged the other larger, stronger students to do the same. We had to take care of each other, he said. There was a world outside the school, he reminded us, and if only we could survive long enough…”

Fretwell removed his glasses and used a handkerchief to polish the lenses with scrupulous care. “Sometimes the only difference between life and death is the ability to retain the smallest scrap of hope. Devlin gave us that little bit of hope. He made promises, impossible promises, that he later managed to keep.”

Amanda was utterly silent, finding it impossible to reconcile her knowledge of the jaunty scoundrel Jack Devlin with the boy whom Fretwell had just described.

Evidently reading the disbelief in her face, Fretwell replaced his spectacles and smiled. “Oh, I am aware of how he must seem to you. Devlin paints himself as a reprobate. But I assure you, he is the most trustworthy and steadfast man I’ve ever known. He once saved my life at the risk of his own. I was caught stealing food from the school larder, and my punishment was to be tied to the gate all night. It was bitterly cold and windy, and I was terrified. But just after nightfall, Devlin sneaked outside with a blanket, untied me, and stayed until morning, both of us huddling under that blanket and talking about the day when we would be able to leave Knatchford Heath. At daybreak, when a teacher was sent out to retrieve me, Devlin had retied my ropes and vanished back into the school. If he had been caught helping me, I believe it would have resulted in his own death.”

“Why?” Amanda asked softly. “Why did he put himself at risk for your sake, and for the others? I would have thought…”

“That he would have been concerned only for his own welfare?” Fretwell finished for her, and she nodded. “I confess, I’ve never really understood what motivates Jack Devlin. But I do know one thing for certain—he may not be a religious man, but he is a humanitarian.”

“If you say so, then I believe you,” Amanda murmured. “However…” She threw him a skeptical glance. “I find it difficult to accept that someone who once took painful beatings for others should have complained and carried on so about a mere scratch on his side.”

“Ah, you’re referring to your visit to the offices last week, when Lord Tirwitt attacked Devlin with that cane-sword.”

“Yes.”

For some reason, Fretwell began to smile. “I’ve seen Devlin tolerate a hundred times more pain that that without even blinking,” he said. “But he is a man, after all, and not above trying to gain a little feminine sympathy.”

“He desired my sympathy?” Amanda asked in astonishment.

Fretwell seemed ready to deliver much more of this highly interesting information, but he checked himself, as if suddenly doubtful of the wisdom of doing so. He smiled as he glanced into Amanda’s round gray eyes. “I’ve said enough, I think.”

“But, Mr. Fretwell,” she protested, “you haven’t finished the story. How did a boy with no family and no money eventually come to own a publishing business? And how—”

“I will allow Mr. Devlin himself to tell you the rest someday, when he is ready. I have no doubt that he will.”

“But you can’t tell me only half a story!” Amanda complained, making him laugh.

“It’s not mine to tell, Miss Briars.” He set down his teacup and carefully refolded his napkin. “I beg your pardon, but I must be about my business, or I’ll answer to Devlin.”

Reluctantly Amanda sent for Sukey, who appeared with the manager’s hat, coat, and gloves. Fretwell bundled himself in preparation for the brisk winter wind outside. “I hope that you will return soon,” Amanda told him.

He nodded, as if he were fully cognizant that she wished to learn more from him about Jack Devlin. “I will certainly try to oblige you, Miss Briars. Oh, and I nearly forgot…” He reached into his coat pocket and unearthed a small object in a black velvet bag tied with silk cords. “My employer bade me to give this to you,” he said. “He wishes to commemorate the occasion of your first contract with him.”

“I cannot accept a personal gift from him,” Amanda replied warily, not moving to take the velvet bag.