The sight that greeted Thomas was perhaps the least likely either of them could have imagined. Standing in the doorway was a woman, older than the both of them but of no more than forty years, who was covered in dust and dirt. Her skirts and blouse were stained grey, and her dark brown hair hung limply around her cheeks. She was thinner than she should have been, but by no means weak: she raised a gaunt chin and glowered at them from above hollow cheekbones.
Vincent couldn't see Thomas' face from his crouch, but he saw the moment Thomas adjusted himself, sinking back onto one leg as some of the surprise left his posture.
"Good afternoon, ma'am, and apologies. We did not mean to intrude, but perhaps you can help us." With his most dazzling smile, Thomas stepped closer to the woman, one arm extended to indicate the bags strewn across the floor. "You see, we-"
The moment he moved, the woman flinched away, her glare disappearing momentarily. Both men saw the emotion it was replaced with: fear.
Thomas stilled. "Please, we mean you no..." He trailed off as he saw movement behind her, several shadowed faces coming into view over her shoulders. A pit opened in his stomach as each face he saw, fidgeting and shifting behind the woman, also appeared to be feminine. He inched forward again, trying to get a better look, but the woman at the front reacted quickly.
Her hands untangled from her skirts, revealing the sturdy metal pole she'd held shielded within them, and she raised the object between them. "¡Alto!"
Vincent's brow rose.
The woman's elbows brushed the doorframe, narrow as it was, and she stepped further into the room to better hold the pipe. The people behind her moved with her, clustered close. As Thomas had suspected, they were all women, and all were in an equally bad state. Clothes were torn, shoes missing, and they were all underfed. Curiously, they all appeared to have the same colouring beneath the filth; lightly tanned skin and dark brown hair.
Now with more room to move, the woman at the front raised the pipe higher, gripping it in both hands so tightly that her knuckles blanched. "¡Quedarse atrás! ¡Por favor no nos hagas daño!" Her voice trembled, but less so than the women who cowered behind her. Her eyes darted between Thomas, who still stood a few steps away from her, and Vincent's crouched form across the room.
Vincent raised his hands – showing them to be empty – as he thought. Thomas took a couple of slow steps backward, bring them side by side. "Do you know what she said?"
The other man shook his head. He had heard enough Spaniards speak to recognise 'por favor', but he had never taken to languages. The best he could manage was Latin, and even then he was better reading or writing it than speaking.
With his hands still extended, Vincent pushed himself slowly up from the ground to standing. "Noli timere." Do not be afraid in poorly pronounced Latin, but it was the best he could manage.
It did not appear to be good enough, however, as the women stared at him in confusion. He knew there to be enough overlap between the languages for him to persevere with another stuttered Latin sentence.
"Non faciemus tibi dolorem." We will not cause you pain.
The woman at the front seemed to be struggling to understand Vincent as much as he was struggling to be understood. Her pipe lowered a fraction as she frowned, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. "¿Dolor o sin dolor?"
Pain or...
"Dolore," Thomas repeated, trying his best to smile non-threateningly. His efforts were a dismal failure, as the women as a whole shied away from them and their leader with the pipe brandished it further in his direction.
He stepped back again slightly, eyes wide as he looked at Vincent. "I was just trying to help!"
Vincent only shook his head. To their audience, he corrected Thomas: "Sine dolore, sine dolore." No pain, no pain.
Ever so gradually, the pipe lowered.
"¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?" Her tone made it clear that they were still not welcome, though it was anyone's guess what she was asking them.
Vincent stepped forward slowly and slightly, more to put himself between Thomas and the women than to draw closer to them; he thought it was considerably better they forget Thomas was there, if at all possible.
"Anglicus?" English? It was a hopeful question.
With the pipe's tip now resting on the floor, the woman at the front stepped slightly to the side so that she could watch them – more Thomas than himself, Vincent noticed – but address her friends. "'Anglicus'?" she repeated in a low tone, meeting a few gazes. "'Anglicus'... Inglés?"
Thomas snapped his fingers. "English!"
At once, the pipe was raised again, and more than one of the women let out shocked screams or whimpers. Standing between Thomas and the group, Vincent raised a hand out to either in an attempt to soothe the situation. Thomas he also pinned with a glare.
He grimaced in return. "Alright, I will stop helping."
A murmur of voices to Vincent's right drew his attention back to the other side of the room as a girl stepped forward through the crowd. She could have been no more than fifteen, though it was hard to age her precisely beneath all the grime. It was more the hands of the older women clinging to her, trying to hold her back and keep her safe, that indicated her youth.
Vincent tried to keep his tone even. "You speak English?"
The girl nodded. "Un poco." She held up her finger and thumb, close together. A little.
A little was significantly superior to the Spanish Vincent knew.
He thought to start with the basics.
"What's your name? Uh..." Vincent blinked once, slowly. "Nomen?"
The girl nodded, swiping aside the limp strand of hand that fell across her face. "Mi nombre es Lupe." She tapped the centre of her chest with two fingers. "Lupe."
Nature over-road caution, and Thomas swept into a bow, startling at least half of the room and earning an eye roll from Vincent. "A pleasure to meet you, Lupe! My name is Thomas, and this is my friend Vincent."
As he straightened, he was greeted by universal confusion.
Vincent let out a small sigh. He tapped his own chest. "Vincent." He stretched his arm back, tapping the closest part of Thomas which happened to be his shoulder. "Thomas."
Lupe smiled broadly. "Vincente y Tomás," she repeated, pointing between them.
Thomas returned the gesture. "Lupe!"
Her smile widened. Thomas grinned back, grateful to be less terrifying to at least one person in the room. He was completely unused to such a cold reception, and he felt somewhat cowardly as Vincent shielded him from the women.
The other man lowered his arms finally, straightening and tugging his vest into place. After a moment, he asked, "What are you doing here?"
Lupe's lips pursed as she thought. The she raised a hand to wag a finger at them, "'Get to work'," she said, her tone deep and her brow furrowed. Her expression cleared. "En la factoría." She waved her hand towards the stairs they had ascended.
As Vincent looked over his shoulder towards the door, he locked eyes with Thomas. "I wouldn't think this 'factoría' has worked in months," the other man said, his boot brushing one of the hessian bags aside.
Vincent nodded and turned back to the girl. "You work here? This factory?"
She shook her head. "No, no. Muchas factorías. Uh..." she ran pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she thought. "Nosotras nos movemos."
The Latin was movemur; we move.
Vincent nodded quickly. "You move around, to many factories, and you work."
She smiled broadly, her youth shining through, and nodded quickly. "Sí, yes!"
The men took a moment to absorb that information. It was unusual, but perhaps not completely unheard of, for workers to travel between factories. To feed their families they had to be where the work was. It was their presence in that particular decrepit factory that was unusual.
"How long have you been here?"
"En Inglaterra?" It wasn't precisely what Vincent had been asking, but he did not interrupt. "Como un año." She raised a single finger.
It took Vincent a moment, but he recalled the translation; annus, a year. A long time for such a young girl. He tossed another look over his shoulder, curious to see Thomas' reaction, but the man returned it with a raised brow.
After a long moment, he smiled slightly. "I don't know what she said, Vincent."
Vincent blinked. "It... uh..." Thomas' expectant look didn't falter, and he waited patiently. "A year."
The man's brow rose and he shifted his weight to the other foot, arms drifting to cross his chest. "That's a long time for a girl her age."
Vincent felt his spectacles shift as his face transformed from serious frown to surprised smile; it wasn't every day someone echoed his thoughts. Thomas looked confused, but returned the grin, and Vincent waved him off before he could ask why they were smiling.
His expression faded as he turned back to the girl, focussing once again on the situation she was describing. "Who brought you here?"
Lupe gestured to them. "Men with-"
She was cut off as the leader stepped forward and took her arm, issuing a firm, "No."
She looked like she might protest, but many of the others stepped forward as well, huddling towards her. A quick argument erupted, fast Spanish words passed back and forth between the older women and the girl. Eventually, Lupe seemed to acquiesce, bowing her head submission as the others raised their chins.
'Who' was apparently not a question they would let her answer.
Rather than press for answers they would not get, Vincent changed tact. "We found an infant... a, uh, infans?"
Lupe frowned instantly, but not in confusion. This time she almost looked offended. "¿Infantil? ¿Te refieres a mí?" She pointed to herself again.
Vincent shook his head in a negative, but she didn't seem convinced. Her arms rose to fold across her chest, lips pursed as she stared down her nose at him. He racked his brain, but funnily enough his Latin instruction had not included more than one word for 'baby' or 'child'.
Instead, he tried as she had to mime out the word.
He organised his arms as he had to burp the child, positioning the imaginary baby over his shoulder and bouncing his legs gently. If anything, Lupe appeared more confused, though fractionally less offended.
For the first time, Vincent wished he'd let his siblings drag him into games of charades over the years.
Thomas let out a small groan, slowly moving backwards to settle against the far wall. "You've struggled through all this translation only to come undone at the word 'baby'. Doesn't seem fair, does it?"
He didn't notice the girl perk up until she spoke. "Bebé?"
Then he turned a very proud smile in Vincent's direction.
The other man ignored him, nodding quickly. "Yes, uhh, sí!" He had tucked the piece of hessian fabric they had brought with them in his pocket, but pulled it out then, waving it towards the women. "We found a baby, and she was wrapped in this." He deliberately showed them the emblem.
All at once the women erupted into chatter that was beyond translation. There were whispers and strange looks, as well as some excitement and clutching of hands.
As their reaction died down, Lupe began to speak again. "¡La hija de Gabriela! ¿Has visto a Gabriela? ¿Está bien?" The questions came rapidly, followed by a firm shake of a head, as if the girl realised her mistake. She sucked her teeth for a moment and tried again, her eyes locked with Vincent's as if that might help their conversation. "Gabriela bebé ... er, 'baby'... leave. Make safe." She licked her lips and kept going, this time with gestures where she did not know the translation. "You, visto –" she pointed between her eyes and them, "- Gabriela?"
Thomas leant slightly closer to Vincent to speak in low tones in his ear. "Is Gabriela the mother or the baby?"
Vincent thought he understood, but it was better to clarify. "Gabriela is," he said loudly and slowly, "'bebé' or mother-" he added the Latin for safety, "uh, mater?"
The girl was already nodding. "La madre es Gabriela, la bebé es Isabela."
Isabela.
Finally they had a name for the little girl in his family's care.
.
It was perhaps an hour later when Thomas scrambled to his feet with a groan. One hand went to his lower back, rubbing at muscles that had long since fixed into a slouch. The room as a whole wavered away from him but for now at least there were no screams. Vincent also leant aside, craning his neck back to frown up at Thomas in question.
"I can't just keep sitting," he explained, fingers fluttering as he indicated the narrow room they still occupied. "I have to do something?"
After the discovery of the baby's name, the women had led them further into the building, escorting them over the rickety second floor to a room that apparently served as a bedroom. A mattress or two lined the floors, but the remainder was filled with yet more of the hessian bags that were gathered into makeshift beds.
In the new space, the women spread out a little, and they could count that there was roughly ten of them, ranging from Lupe's fifteen years to the woman who had brandished the pipe at them – Abrienda – who they estimated to be about forty. They were all more comfortable in this room, settling throughout it with only occasional glares at the men, though at Thomas' outburst they all fixed him with glares.
At his explanation, Vincent's brow twitched slightly higher.
"I'll find them some food." Thomas' gaze darted to Lupe, who was sitting at his feet admiring his pocket watch, and then sharply back to Vincent's. "Who knows when – or what – they last ate."
He straightened his jacket, glancing up at the room only to find their cautious eyes on him. Even after an hour of sitting quietly and calmly – behaviours which were entirely against his nature – they had not warmed to him. He could admit to himself that his feelings were hurt. A tug on his pants drew his attention back down to Lupe, who was frowning up at him.
"Where..." She released his clothing to model walking with her fingers.
Despite the protest of his bones, Thomas squatted back down to her level. "I'm going to find you something to eat. Some food." He mimed eating even as she nodded, her eyes bright.
The room around them shifted slightly, but it was Lupe who turned to them. "Él va a buscar comida."
Abrienda had not drifted beyond arm's reach yet and shook her head at the younger girl. She snapped out a few quick Spanish words, pointing at Thomas. Her tone made it very clear she was not growling compliments.
Lupe clicked her tongue, shaking her head. "Tomás no es como los demás. ¡Todos ustedes están siendo ridículos!"
Thomas wasn't sure how to feel about his name and 'ridículos' being in the same phrase, but Lupe turned back to him with a shake of her head and a small, supportive smile. Then she clapped him gently on the shoulder and offered him his watch back.
Perhaps it should have been emasculating to be comforted by a fifteen-year-old girl, but it set off a rather warm glow in Thomas' chest instead. He wrapped her fingers back around the small, golden clock.
"You keep it safe for me."
She seemed surprised but nodded quickly. "Safe. Segura."
A general mutter arose around the room, and Thomas rose and stepped away from Lupe. "Alright, alright, I'm going!" With grumbles of his own, he stalked out of the room, and after a moment they all heard the distant clatter of the stairs as he thundered down them.
Vincent watched him leave with a small frown. That had been an almost tender moment between the man and Lupe, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. The girl was young – though truthfully, not much younger than many who had married before her – but she was also vulnerable. It would be predatory if he...
He shook his head. That was not something that could be said of Thomas. The man would play the advantage, but he would not take advantage.
Turning his attention back to the notes he had taken, Vincent considered the picture that was forming before him. These women had all been taken from Spain, different parts if he understood correctly, though he was the first to admit that his knowledge of Spanish geography was lacking. They would not allow Lupe to tell him anything more about the men that had taken them, though judging by the way the girl had indicated them, he suspected they were British, if not English. Isabela had been born about six months ago, and Gabriela had left perhaps a month prior. Lupe did not know specific dates, but she spoken in terms of the seasons; Gabriela had left when winter first started to break.
What Vincent didn't understand was why.
"Lupe," She looked up at his name, hand curled protectively around Thomas' pocket watch, "why did Gabriela leave?"
"Why?" She repeated, head tilting to the side. "Segura. Safe."
"To keep her safe from whom?"
Lupe stilled so completely that she held her breath. Very slowly, she glanced around the room, noticing that Abrienda had drifted away and they were somewhat distanced from the other women now. As her breath returned, she leant in slightly. "Para protegerla del padre de Isabela," she whispered.
Vincent had not considered the child's father. Leaning in closer, he mimicked Lupe's secrecy, all too aware that the other women would interfere if they thought she was sharing something she shouldn't. "Is Isabela's father English? Uh, de Inglaterra?"
Lupe swallowed, and then offered one quick nod. Almost instantly, she leaned away, directing her attention back to the watch as if they had never had the discussion.
Vincent was appreciative of the sudden silence, as it gave him time to process what she'd shared with him. He rose to his feet, pacing slowly back and forth as he thought. Gabriela had been afraid of her baby's father. Perhaps the man wanted to take Isabela or wanted her dead. There were too many possibilities without more details, which seemed unlikely given the secrecy of the women and the absence of Gabriela herself.
As he thought, Vincent became aware of the distant rattle of the stairs. Thomas could not have found food that quickly, and he turned to wait with a raised brow for the man to reappear. As he waited, another sound travelled to him; it was the wet plop of a person spitting.
At the same moment Vincent thought that an unusual practise for Thomas, a hand grabbed his. He glanced down to find Lupe already on her feet, tugging him furiously with her eyes wide. Much of her filthy brown hair had broken free from its ties, and now spilled over her shoulders as she pulled him across the room.
Vincent did not think it a good moment to share that he preferred not to be touched.
"What –"
Lupe shushed him instantly, and Vincent noticed for the first time the movement of the other women in the room. All had risen, their eyes just as wide as Lupe's as they tried to herd him towards the back of the room. He quickly stopped resisting, following the girl in a trot as she led him to a pile of metal stacked against one corner. She released his hand – thankfully – and then pointed to the narrow gap formed by the leaning stack.
"¡Escóndete!" she hissed, now pushing on his shoulder.
Obediently, Vincent hunched down and scrambled into the tight space, grateful that he was not built as sturdily as his elder brothers. Particularly when, as he wedged himself into the gap, he felt heat behind him as Lupe squeezed in after him. Her hand came to rest on his upper back. It irked him.
He was almost thankful for the distraction of a man's voice; it was not Thomas.
"Oi, where're you all hiding?"
Footsteps followed, and the voice was clearer when it continued. "All in here, I see. Good girls."
Vincent had no way to see the man; even if there was a gap in the metal, he was wedged in with his back to the room and didn't dare move lest he bump the precarious stack. Clearly the women were scared of this man and did not want him found with them; he would not risk their safety just to satisfy his curiosity.
"God, you're all filthy, aren't ya? Good thing you ain't here to fill a bed, ain't it?"
His speech was inelegant, accent heavy; whoever he was, he was poorly educated and probably from the city. The spitting sound earlier might have been chewing tobacco, Vincent thought, and along with their proximity to the port that meant the man was likely a sailor.
"Necesitamos agua." That was Abrienda, Vincent assumed, not sure if any of the other women would have spoken up. She was asking for water.
The man snorted. "Don't understand a word you're saying, y' Spanish bitch."
Though she probably didn't understand him, there was no denying his tone. Abrienda leapt into a rapid phrase, her tone swelling with emotion. She didn't get to finish the sentence before there was a crack of flesh hitting flesh.
Vincent's muscles tightened as he made to stand, but so too did the hand on his back. Lupe gripped his jacket, twisting the fabric until the neckline tried to choke him. For the first moment he supposed it was fear, but by angling his head slightly, Vincent could see her face. She was afraid, but not of the other man.
"No, por favor, no..." Her tone was quiet, hidden from the rest of the room as the women muttered and chattered in the wake of Abrienda's assault.
She was afraid that he would reveal himself.
The world around him seemed to freeze. All demands of chivalry and human decency that had been drilled into Vincent since infancy demanded that he stand up and defend the woman, but a pair serious brown eyes begged him not to. Who was he to interfere; he could not be here to protect the women all the time, and if he interjected now they might suffer worse later. It was not his place. He should – would – do as Lupe wanted.
Even if his soul burned at the cowardice.
He didn't hear much else before the man left, grappling as he was with his own conscience. His brain conceived alternative after alternative, different ways he could have hidden or positioned himself so that he could have been of assistance, different ways he could have reacted that would have protected Abrienda. Through all the guilt he could hear a faint voice that sounded just like Thomas. And it was disappointed.
The other man returned after a couple of hours to find Vincent leaning against the middle of the wall, Abrienda sitting across from him with her head in her hands. Lupe and several of the other women had not left her side, murmuring calming words and stroking her hair. They had all flinched at the sound of Thomas' movement throughout the factory, but he announced his arrival well in advance in booming words.
"I have stew!"
He hobbled into the room lugging a large metal pot supported against one leg, but as he took in the atmosphere of the room he stilled.
Abrienda glanced up at the noise, and the injury to her face was instantly apparent. A bruise was forming from cheekbone to jaw, and a small crack in the skin of her lip had trimmed the edge of her mouth in blood.
Thomas' gaze instantly whipped to Vincent, scanning him quickly from head to toe. Some tension faded from his shoulders. Vincent wondered if he was looking for signs that he was also injured, or that he had caused the injury.
"What happened?"
This time as he spoke, Lupe's chin jerked up, but her eyes never made it to his. Instead, they fixed on the pot he was holding. "¿Comida? Food?" The rest of the women looked up instantly.
Thomas shook himself, moving further into the room and setting the pot down. "Yes, food." He waved a hand at it, "Please, help yourselves."
Whether or not they understood him, the room reacted almost instantly, mobbing the pot with wide eyes and excited smiles. Abrienda was helped to her feet and pushed to the front of the group, and Vincent watched on as chatter and giggles erupted from the women. Thomas gave the group a wide berth, coming to rest against the wall beside Vincent.
"What happened?" he repeated, voice low although the women were not the least bit interested in what they were doing.
Vincent had been dreading this conversation for hours, but he had at least had time to prepare what he was going to say. "A man came. Lupe told me to hide, and I did. He slapped Abrienda. Lupe told me to stay quiet, and I did."
He couldn't bare to raise his gaze from where it was fixed on the opposite wall, not willing to see the disgust he felt reflected in Thomas' eyes. It was intolerably gutless to allow a woman to be hit and just hide in the shadows, all because...
"Alright."
Vincent's neck jerked so quickly he feared he might break his neck. "What?"
Thomas' eyes were shadowed by the curls that gathered on his forehead, but his lips were twisted in the barest of smiles. "I said, 'alright'."
Vincent blinked. "But... I..." He swallowed heavily. This was not a part of the conversation he had prepared for. "What?"
The other man let out a slow breath. "Maybe I would have leapt out and struck the man down. I'd probably feel a good deal better about myself than you do right now, but it would have been rash. I wouldn't be doing what Lupe asked of me, and I wouldn't have thought through the consequences of my actions. That's what you do, Vincent. It's bloody annoying, sometimes," his smile cracked into a grin, "but it's a laudable skill. Abrienda might have borne the consequences today, but I'm sure if I asked you could give me ten far worse consequences if you'd interfered."
The man shrugged, pushing himself off the wall. "I guess what I'm saying is that I'm learning to trust your judgement. Maybe you should too." He offered his hand then, palm open and turned towards the ceiling. "Now come on, let's fight our way through to the stew."
~~
Hello Lovely Readers!
I'm so sorry for the delay in updates - my exams are done now (woo!) and then this MAMMOTH chapter took me a long time to write. It was a terrible idea to have multiple languages (that I'm NOT fluent in!) in this chapter, but I loved the idea and then couldn't give up! If you are a native Spanish speaker, or learned in Spanish or Latin, PLEASE comment or suggest any corrections - I'm making do with introductory Spanish and google translate, so I know it will be far from perfect!
Now onto more important things; what did you think of the chapter? Was the reveal what you were expecting? Where is Gabriela and why is she scared of Isabela's father?
In other news, Husband Wanted reached 10K reads and I am so very happy! Thank you so much to all of you who have read it - I hope you enjoyed it! I've also started a little instagram account to post some writing updates (and maybe tips, tricks or opinions if anyone wants them?). The link is on my profile, so go give the account a follow if you're interested in seeing some behind the scenes for the Humphrey Chronicles!
I hope to post the next chapter soon!
XX Flo