"Can we go back to the beach now, auntie? Please? I wanna see the waves again!"
She firmly held back a resigned sigh. Apparently, even a two-hour train ride out of London could not give her an hour's silence. Either her niece had as much patience as a consulting detective, or her lodger had as much patience as a young girl.
She leaned more toward the latter, for all that it would not help her now.
"You can wait a minute, Abby. I told you I wanted to finish this."
"Yes, but that was hours ago!"
"It was one hour, and I am almost done." She dipped her pen again, determinedly not misspelling that tricky word. "Go play with your sister. I will come get you in a few minutes."
Abby harrumphed, but a laugh carried from the kitchen before she could do more than cross her arms in a pout.
"Better hurry, Martha." Her sister's teasing admonition grew ever louder until Lizzie stopped in the doorway. Aiden leaned sleepily against her shoulder. "I think Abby might learn to fly if we don't get her wet."
"Girls can't fly!"
"Are you sure?" Lizzie's amusement only increased when a firm nod answered her. "Maybe we should try it. You can let Aunt Martha finish her letter, and we'll get to see a flying child."
"No! I want to play in the waves again. Please?"
"I told you we would go, Abby." Only years of practice prevented her from losing her train of thought. Last sentence. "Does whining ever pay off?"
Eager begging died in a breath. "No," she admitted quietly. "Sorry, auntie."
Done, but she merely gave an understanding smile as she skimmed what she had written. Once sure she had answered everything, she would address the note so they could drop it on the way. "We will leave in—"
"Telegram!"
A fist abruptly pounded on the door of their rented rooms. Lizzie disappeared down the hall, but a short conversation brought her quickly back.
"It's for you, Martha, marked 'urgent.'"
Urgent? The folded letter hit the table to let her take the missive. Who would send her an urgent telegram? Her brother-in-law would have addressed any message to his wife, and she had no other family. Had someone's message gone astray?
No. It had come from London. Worry shot through her as she noted the sender.
"Irregulars found children in danger," read the blocky text. "Return early if possible. SH."
Children. More than two, for all that Mr. Holmes did not specify. Probably more than ten. Only a large group could make him wire for help.
And "return early." That indicated a specific kind of danger—the one that required many Yarders and a stakeout in the dead of night. Those young ones would be scared, possibly injured, and definitely hungry, but he and John would likely lead the raid tonight. With her on holiday, the Irregulars would be on their own to prepare for so many mouths at once.
"We're not going to the beach again, are we?"
Not the Irregulars, she realized. The youngest of the Irregulars. If that band of children had found the problem, they would want to help solve it. Every child over ten or eleven would follow the adults with or without an invitation. She needed to catch the next train.
"What is it, Martha?"
Lizzie's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find two frowns directed her way—one fully worried, one nearly a pout. The first question finally registered.
"Sorry, Abby. I need to get back to London." Both letter and telegram disappeared into a pocket to let her start quickly filling a valise. "It's Mr. Holmes. They found a group of children in trouble."
"But that's in London." Abby's frown deepened, mixing disappointment with confusion. "You're not in London. You're here, with us. Why can't they ask someone else?"
She stretched to reach behind the bedframe. How had her comb ended up there? "Who do you think they would ask?"
"Anyone," Abby shrugged. "A Yarder. One of their friends. An Irregular. Don't they have someone already in London so you don't have to leave early?"
"No." The strap clicked shut, and she knelt to meet Abby's gaze. "I've told you that the Irregulars live in a courtyard because they don't have parents." Abby nodded. "When Mr. Holmes says they found other children in trouble, he means that they found several children in immediate danger. He and the doctor will be helping the police, but they need someone to help the children—both the current Irregulars and the ones who will soon join them."
Pouting became grudging acceptance. "Why can't he just say that?"
She tweaked the girl's nose to produce a giggle. "Because it's Mr. Holmes, Abby. How many times have you heard me complain to your mum about my crazy lodgers?"
"More than you think," was the cheeky answer, and she could not halt another laugh.
"I'll remember that."
Abby pulled a face, but small arms gave a quick hug goodbye before she disappeared in search of her sister. Lizzie made no effort to hide her worry.
"I hope it is not as bad as you think."
She did, too, but knowing Mr. Holmes, it would probably be worse.
"I will stop by in a few days."
"Or I will." Lizzie walked her to the door, Aiden making her own embrace rather awkward. "I will let you know when we return home. Be careful, Martha."
"Always." A wave saw her to the street, and Lizzie had already closed the door when she looked back. She directed her steps to the station. The next train would drop her in London before noon.
"Alpha Protocol! All hands!"
Tim's order echoed off the bricks, sharply snapping everyone out of whatever they had been doing. Arthur immediately lunged to his feet to find Tim in the middle of the courtyard, Jones just behind him.
"All hands?" he repeated. They had never had an "all hands" Alpha. Could Mr. Holmes have decided to let them help?
Tim ignored him. "Prepare for twenty new arrivals tonight," he announced. "Div—"
"Twenty?"
"Where are they coming from?"
"We don't have enough food for that!"
"Why so many at once?"
Jones let out a shrill whistle. "If you listen, you will find out!"
That stopped the flurry of questions, though everyone also moved closer. Jones' tone had silenced even young Betty.
"Fernsby's Haven for Homeless Waifs," Tim confirmed Arthur's suspicion. "On Montague Street. The sign calls it an orphanage, 'cept it's not an orphanage. It's a house of horror. Mr. Holmes is leading the police there tonight. Divide up by age. Twelve and under over there. Thirteen and up there."
Disorganized shuffling soon created a clear line between the age groups, and Arthur rapidly counted heads. Tim had found almost an even split.
Which he had apparently wanted. "Good. Twelve and under, it's on you to set up the courtyard. We need twenty more beds, start hunting for more food, and set out any medical supplies you can scrounge. I'm sure some of them will be hurt. And don't breathe a word of this outside this courtyard," he warned. "Even to each other. Any questions?"
"Age range?" came from the back, the voice too distorted for Arthur to identify.
"Young," Tim shot back. "Too young. Those screams couldn't come from anyone that's hit the change."
"When will they be here?"
"Late," Jones answered. "We meet Mr. Holmes at sundown. Set up the courtyard, then get some rest if you can. None of us will sleep much tonight."
"What are we doing?"
Tim motioned for Charles to wait. "Anything else?" Silence answered him. "Then get moving."
A round of agreements met the order, and the younger half of their group parted in different directions to start redistributing blankets and searching for food. Tim turned to Arthur's half.
"The rest of you are helping with the raid. Arthur, can we use your map?"
Arthur pushed his way to the front to spread the large paper across one of their tables, quickly folding it to display that mansion as well as the nearby streets.
"Thank you. The manor is here—" One finger landed on the building, though Tim carefully avoided touching any of Arthur's lines. "Mr. Holmes asked us to form a large ring. Those children are going to try to leave just like the adults are, and it's up to us to stop them. Is Tim here?"
"Let me through!" The crowd opened to let Middle Tim stand beside Arthur. "What'm I doing?"
"Leading the ring," was the reply. "Station yourself near one of the doors and figure out who's coming inside and in what order. Arthur and Charles, you and George will join Jones and me tonight. Jones and I found an unused entrance. The five of us might be able to prevent any of the kids from trying to leave."
"They'll come to us before they trust an adult," Arthur agreed. "How'd you convince Mr. Holmes to let us help in the raid proper?"
"I didn't," he admitted. "He asked us to form the ring and come in after, but they can't make us leave if they don't see us before they attack."
Charles let out a laugh. "That's the way!"
Tim pulled a face in response. "We have maybe five hours until sundown," he noted with a glance at the nearest window, "and we'll need at least an hour to reach the Haven from here. Figure out positions, Tim, then split up to help the others ready the courtyard."
"On it."
"Everyone keep an eye out for George, too," Jones added. "I think he's the only one not off work yet."
He could do that, but Tim's hand prevented Arthur from going to help the littles somewhere near the entrance. "Stay here. Once they finish with your map, the four of us are going to decide the best way to reach that hidden door. It's not an easy find."
Arthur settled back against the wall, trading strategies with the other boys as activity filled the courtyard. This would be a busy night.
Next chapter will start the raid proper. Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter :)
BTW, rumor has it that ffn is slowly dying. I don't put much credence in it, but should this prove true, and should ffn break without warning, you can find all my stories on my AO3 profile, same username. I update both accounts at the same time