And If You Wrong Us

Part 2: Reputation

Mr. Raven nodded. "I think so. It came as quite a shock to everyone."

"Have the bobbies done an investigation?"

Mr. Raven's brow furrowed. "Investigation? How do you know about what the police do?"

"I'm a good listener." Angelique puffed her chest out. "When Mother takes us to town, I listen to gossip."

"Is that so..." Mr. Raven frowned. "I think I'll need to speak to your mother about these little outings."

"Don't worry, Father; she never leaves us alone. I just enjoy listening. There's always something going on!"

"Indeed." Mr. Raven rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Are you tired?"

He smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, my dear. Long day at the office."

"You have many long days there. Why do you come home so late?"

Mr. Raven opened his mouth to respond, paused, tried again, then realized he had no satisfactory excuse.

"Does Mr. Roberts make you stay?"

He hesitated. "Often, yes."

"Why?"

"He needs my help."

"Why?"

"Because running an orphanage is a lot of work, Angelique. There are many things to organize and manage, and many children to care for."

"Is Sarah the priority now, because she's the Mayor's daughter?"

Mr. Raven blinked in surprise. "I... well...yes, I suppose..."

Angelique sighed. "Money really is the best motivator."

Mr. Raven frowned again. "Where did you hear that?"

"I heard some men discussing it."

"Goodness! Don't you have any interest in listening to people your own age?"

Angelique scoffed. "Certainly not! They talk about ribbons and dresses and who they'll marry when they grow up. Rubbish. They don't even consider what's going on in the world."

Mr. Raven returned to rubbing his nose. "You are too mature for your age, Angelique. I can't keep up with you."

Angelique grinned. "You don't need to. I'll let you know what's going on." She hopped down from the sofa. "You're too sleepy, Father. Let's both go to bed."

Mr. Raven took his daughter's hand, and they made their way up the stairwell. He lowered himself for a kiss, which Angelique planted neatly on his cheek before hurrying off to her bedroom. He quietly entered his own.

When he entered, he saw she was already beneath the covers, sleeping soundly. A sliver of moonlight caressed her face, revealing a peaceful smile. He approached the window and gazed at the street below, empty and quiet.

"Look what you've done!" he cried, pointing at the knots of hair covering the floor. "Why would you do that? I told you never to cut your hair! I told you!"

The back of his hand connected with the child's face.

"What were you thinking! Is this your revenge? Is this how you're going to get back at me? As if you haven't done enough already! Where do you think you're going!"

He blocked the doorway with his large body, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not done with you."

"Cirius." Mr. Roberts closed the office door behind him as he entered without knocking. He had a serious expression on his face. "I received a surprise visit the other day. Well, she was looking for you."

"She?" Mr. Raven repeated.

"Yes, she. Mrs. Sylvia Jennings. Oh, pardon me, I suppose it is Miss Sylvia Jennings now."

"Is it now?" Mr. Raven leaned back in his chair and put the tips of his fingers together.

"Yes. She is a widow. Her husband passed away late last year."

"What of?"

"Heart trouble."

Mr. Raven scoffed. "I wonder why."

"That's why she visited — to tell you about her husband's passing."

"And to ask if my wife has passed yet?" Mr. Raven asked scathingly.

Mr. Roberts gave a small shrug. "I'm not sure that matters to a woman like Sylvia Jennings."

Mr. Raven shook his head. "I've made it clear to her, multiple times, that I am not interested."

"Perhaps she doesn't mind sharing you."

Mr. Raven glared at Mr. Roberts over his splayed fingers. Mr. Roberts coughed awkwardly. "My apologies. My office humor is turning quite sour as of late. I suppose it's due to my home becoming the subject of ghost stories. How are you faring after that sudden bout of influenza?"

Mr. Raven placed his hands on his desk. "Your inquiry about my health seems insincere. You believe I faked my illness? For what? To be away from...from her?"

Mr. Roberts sighed. "I didn't mean any offense, Cirius. You're the hardest worker I know. I am certain you would never miss work for anything less than true illness. But since we are on that subject, I would like you to see Miss Pemberly later today, ensure she is comfortable and settling in." He made his way to the door. "Professionalism, Cirius. Remember to stay professional."

Mr. Raven stared after Mr. Roberts as he left the room. "I could say the same for you."