Linda Doris

Mr. Brownlow contacts Leanne's mother.

Mr. Brownlow, on reflecting over all that Bet and Oliver had said, decided that the best thing he could do was to go down to the police station. After taking his afternoon tea, he set off in that direction. He figured that perhaps Miss Doris had reported her daughter missing and had, therefore, called upon the aid of the nearest police force. This would be the easiest means of contacting the young lady since the police would have records and her address.

The rain had stopped and there were frequent breaks in the clouds that filtered yellow light downward to reflect in the many puddles that dotted the cobblestones. Mr. Brownlow walked along avoiding the puddles so as not to muddy his shoes. He swung his cane back and forth in a pleasant attitude as he strode down the many streets. Normally, he would have taken his carriage, but he felt that the weather was warm enough and he was in want of some exercise to awaken his ever aging frame.

All the while, he continued to turn the matter over in his mind. He wondered why Oliver had been uninterested in telling of Leanne's father's identity. That seemed out of character. Perhaps though, she had asked him to keep it a secret. Well, Oliver usually had better sense than that and would have told anyway, simply because it would do the poor girl well and because someone needed to intervene. Bill, Mr. Brownlow knew, from the boy's terrible description, was not someone to leave alone. He needed to be caught - to be taken off the streets - for the benefit of society. Of course, that, Mr. Brownlow mused with a bit of regret, would be harder to do now that he was up in Scotland. The Queen did hold some control of their northern neighbor, but not total control. There were channels and ladders that would need to be traversed before they could take a considerable amount of action. There would have to be a cooperative agreement between the English police force and the Scotland Yard. Luckily, in situations involving criminals, there was usually little argument between the two sides; neither wanted to be plagued by thieves or murderers. Yes, this could be a long process, but Scotland would be more than willing to give Bill up to the British; anything to get him off their land and out of their claim of responsibility.

Mr. Brownlow finished this thought and stepped inside the front doors of the court house.

After a while of talking with the authorities, Mr. Brownlow was able to attain Miss Doris' address. He told the police that he wanted to handle the main task himself, but that he would need the assistance of the government once he got to Edinburg. When asked why they could not simply have Bill arrested at once, Mr. Brownlow stated that since the girl was with Bill, it would only cause more fuss than could be easily dealt with. All in all, by the time Mr. Brownlow was able to leave, the authorities were quite intrigued by his knowledge in such matters. They were more than willing to collaborate and they hailed the gentleman as their "savior." The chief officer said it best when he replied, "Well, now that takes care of that! On with the next case!"

Arriving back on the cobblestones, Mr. Brownlow called for a carriage. He was in too much of a hurry (or maybe excitement would be a better word) to walk all the way back to his residence. A carriage driver reigned in his horses and Mr. Brownlow got in. Calling to the driver the name of the village toward which he wanted to travel, he settled himself upon the soft cushions and they were off at a galloping speed.

The trip, which had taken Bill two laborious days, took the carriage only three hours. With this accelerated travel time, Mr. Brownlow arrived in Fernbury. The town was in the midst of the mid-afternoon festivities. The farmers where out feeding their cattle and surveying the crops, the women were out doing laundry, scrubbing porches, and talking with neighbors, the children were wandering around in the fields, playing and chewing on bits of wheat.

The carriage driver stopped once they had reached the main street and Mr. Brownlow dismounted the vehicle. He searched down the street, left and right, looking for the right house. After a few minutes, he came across the right one. It was a small, two story cottage with blue shutters and a sunny, yellow door. He went up the walkway and, on reaching the porch, rapped at the door with the tip of his cane. The door was opened a sliver; just enough so as to see the face of a young lady. Miss Doris opened the door farther and Mr. Brownlow was able to get a full view of her.

She was tall and slender in body. The long, straight, blond hair that cascaded around her face and down her back perhaps made her look thinner than she actually was, but also, Mr. Brownlow observed, she had been (undoubtedly) under much stress and worry over her lost daughter and that would make anyone lose weight.

Linda's brown eyes widened a bit and she asked in a soft voice, "May I help you?"

Mr. Brownlow tipped his hat and replied, "My lady, I hope this is not a bad time, but I have information about your daughter, Leanne."

Linda's eyes widened further and she quickly backed away from the door. "Of course I have time! Come in, come in. Have a seat over there by the fire," she motioned with her hand and pointed toward the parlor.

"Why, thank you."

Mr. Brownlow sat down in a chair opposite the young lady. Linda eyed him with a blank stare, preparing herself for any, possibly negative, news. Her lips were pressed together and she sat in a stiffened position. "What have you found or heard?" she asked after a pause, in the same soft voice.

"Well, my lady, let me just say that your daughter seems to be in no danger at the present."

"Oh gracious! I have been praying that she be out of harms way!" Miss Doris clasped her thin fingers together and she lifted her eyes to heaven as she spoke.

"I'm sure you have. Now, let me tell you that I know where she is."

"Yes?!" The young lady bent nearer to the gentleman, a look of hope changing her otherwise emotionless features.

"She," continued Mr. Brownlow, "She is in Edinburgh. Do you, Miss Doris, know a man by the name of Bill Sikes?"

"Yes, that is, I did. That was years ago. I don't, honestly, put any thought to him."

"Well, Leanne is with him."

Linda vigorously shook her head in disbelief, "No, that can't be right."

"My lady, 'can't' can mean the impossibility, but it can also mean the fact that we simply will not except whatever situation. I believe that in your case, it means the latter. There is possibility, in fact, I have proof," Mr. Brownlow pulled an envelope from his coat pocket. "Here you are. Read it."

Linda grasped the envelope. She opened the flap and then extracted several small pieces of paper. She looked up at Mr. Brownlow, "This is Leanne's writing . . . She has been sending you letters?"

"Not to me, my lady, but to a boy I adopted a few months back. His name is Oliver. The letter says Mark on it, but that is a pen name. Oliver has met Mr. Sikes and was entrusted with this knowledge so, therefore, the two of them have been very discrete about the whole thing. But you should read it."

Miss Doris lowered her gaze and slowly read the entire letter. Once she had finished, she looked back up. "I need to go get her," she looked a bit startled, "That's what I've got to do."

"Yes," Mr. Brownlow nodded and gave the young lady a smile. "Oliver and I (along with another friend of Oliver's) are planing on leaving as soon as possible - perhaps even today. We can all go together."

"I'll start packing," there was now a note of urgency in Linda's soft voice. "Thank you, sir. I will be back in fifteen minutes!" she raced from the room and ascended the stairs.

A while later, Mr. Brownlow and Miss Doris were in a carriage, headed for London. The trip culminated at the doorstep of Bet's residence.

"What a desolate place to live," Linda looked out of the carriage windows. "So Bet lives here? My . . ." She placed a gloved hand across her mouth and had a pitying expression on her face.

"I will be back as soon as I can," Mr. Brownlow got out and headed up the stairs towards Bet's doorstep.

Bet was inside her kitchen eating dinner. She was just half-way through her lamb cutlet when she heard a rapping at her door. She hastily got up and went to see who was calling. Finding that the visiter was Mr. Brownlow, she soon forgot about her dinner.

"Have you found Leanne's mother?! Are we going now?!" her eyes gleamed and her face was spread into a joyful smile.

"Yes, I have found her."

"I'll get my things!" Bet rushed off towards her bedroom.

She came back a while later with a suitcase in one hand. Reaching the form of Mr. Brownlow, she gave him a quick hug and kiss, "Thank you, Thank you!!! I can't wait to see Jack again!"

"Is that the boy's name?"

Bet nodded, too excited to answer. She pushed past Mr. Brownlow, went through the door, and descended the stairs in several quick bounds. She climbed into the carriage, introduced herself to Linda, and then looked out to see what was keeping Mr. Brownlow. Miss Doris looked at the girl in a fascination that surprised Bet. She asked, "What's the matter?"

"It's just . . . well, I have never seen anyone get so excited in all my life. Well, actually - that is - except my daughter when I make strawberry tarts."

"Oh, well . . . I'll try to calm down," Bet grinned and then scooted over so as to leave enough room for Mr. Brownlow. She addressed him now, "Lets get this show in the road! I know we still need to get Oliver."

Mr. Brownlow nodded and then shouted to the carriage driver to spur the horses on.

It has been a long time since I posted and I am sorry! I hope everyone finds this chapter at least a bit interesting. Please Review! - Elaine Dawkins