Page 54 of Love with a Notorious Rake

I am aghast at what you have reported, but sadly not entirely shocked. I agree with your assessment that this particular operation will not take the full two months. I also understand your concern regarding the fates of the workers and the village itself should the mill be closed because of the violations of various mill and factory acts.

The sad fact is, the mill may not close because of multiple violations. There would be legal chastisement, and perhaps fines, but ultimately the law believes the owner is the captain of the ship, and he is perfectly within his rights to mete out punishment.

This is what we are trying to change. There should be consequences, and better inspections and laws. Children should not be used as slave labor. I could go on, and I understand your dissatisfaction. Though we may not be able to bring down this particular owner, we can certainly make his life a living misery by using the laws already in place.

I have reached out to the queen’s representative in Earl Shilton, Mr. Muggeridge, and made him aware of the situation. He informed me the factory system will be coming to Earl Shilton with regard to the making of stockings, and will also affect the cotton mill as well. No more working in the home for pauper wages. No more violations of regulations at the mill. I have his assurances that Morris Mill will be rigorously monitored. The wheels are in motion to make changes for the better.

As for the children you spoke of, I am appalled at the conditions. Allow me to inquire with regards to a reputable orphanage or school where they can receive an education, proper meals, and training for jobs in the future. But be aware: If we remove these children, McRae can easily replace them with others.

But one thing at a time. We are moving forward. Be proud of your achievements, for I am proud of you, Aidan.

All my love and admiration,

Papa

Postscript: July 29th will soon be here. If I do not see you before then, happy birthday. We will celebrate when you return home.

Aidan exhaled. Not exactly the news he had hoped to hear. But if the factory system came to Earl Shilton, it could change everything. No longer could Morris Mill operate in feudal obscurity.

Yes, it was a start, and a good one on which to build further reforms and improvements.

The closing sentences touched Aidan. If anything positive came out of his decline, it was the renewed love and respect between him and his father.

Setting the letter aside, he opened Riordan’s next.

Dear Aidan,

Do not make the same mistake I did. If you love Cristyn, reveal all. No more lies, no matter how noble the intent behind them. I nearly lost Sabrina because I was not honest with her about my background—I should have told her the moment I realized I was in love with her.

Love is exhilarating. And exhilaration is what you are feeling, Aidan, for you described it perfectly. But love can also make you feel adrift, as you stated.

From what Father told me of your situation in Earl Shilton, you have handled it well. He showed me his letter, and I know you will find it frustrating that there is only so much you are able to do. I found the same with my teaching. But whatever small and incremental changes you do construct, know you are making someone’s life better. Outside of falling in love, I know of no other elation. Take pride in your achievements.

Take your Cristyn in your arms. Tell her ALL. Do not hold back, good or bad.

When you have the support and love of the woman you adore, you can conquer anything.

Love,

Riordan

Postscript: You are NOT Lord Nothing. Not to me. Not ever.

Aidan sat perfectly still, taking in all he had read from his brother and father. He had made one decision: He would wrap up this enterprise immediately. He wanted to be there for Riordan when Sabrina gave birth, to support his brother and the entire family. Because even though none of the men had spoken their concerns aloud, the curse still lingered, reminding them of all they had lost. And could lose.

Riordan’s advice echoed over and over in Aidan’s head. Tell her all. He shot to his feet and ran from his room, slamming the door behind him. Sprinting down the stairs and exiting the yard, he walked briskly toward Church Street. A fat raindrop splashed on his forehead, then another. By the time he turned onto High Street, the skies had opened up.

He stood in front of the multistory brick home where Cristyn resided. He was soaked through, his white shirt all but transparent. What floor was she on, second or third? Did her room face the street, or the alley in the rear? This was utter madness. The ground floor lay in darkness. The widow must have retired. What was the time, eleven? Or later? No lights could be seen from the front of the house, so Aidan jogged to the alley.

There was an oak tree he could climb if he were feeling adventurous, but he grabbed a handful of pebbles. One light was visible on the second floor. He would have to make a hasty escape if it turned out to be the widow.

He tossed the stone, and it bounced off the windowpane. He waited, then threw another. At last, the window opened and Cristyn peered out.

Even through the rain and clouds, the moon managed to cast enough light for them to see each other—he hoped.

“Aidan?” she whispered.

“Yes, let me in.”