Wylie pulled her corset over her chemise and laced it up good and tight; unsure how much time had been lost by Lord Adrian's visit, she hoped to visit most of the residents of Lugwallow before rushing to Dobbinsturn to attend to her stable chores. The mysterious pocket watch device would have to wait till another day.
Once Wylie had donned her dress, she grabbed her only other pair of boots. Trimmed with leather and usually only brought out if she was attending church, these boots were also beginning to show their age. She looked longingly at her comfortable but manure-stained Wellingtons and wished this were such an occasion that would allow for her to wear them.
This is no time to get weak, Wylie. She checked herself in the mirror. It was a rare thing for Wylie to wear a dress, and she knew even her neighbors would be taken aback. Perhaps the extra attention to her appearance would alert them to the importance of the situation, and they would take her more seriously.
Wylie looked longingly at her goggles, knowing they wouldn't fit over her up-style hairdo and that she would have no need for them today. She would not leave her house without her satchel, which she secured around her waist, placing her father's odd device inside. She knew just where to start in Lugwallow; indeed, the nosy widow Turpin had seen Lord Adrian leave well beyond the time proper for an unwed lady in the poorest parish in London.
Wylie decided it was best to squelch the rumors sure to come from the woman's mouth, should she happen to speak to anyone besides her aging son who lived with her. She shut the door to her house and walked the short distance to the Turpin home.
Knocking roughly, Wylie noticed all the grooves and knots in the battered old door. The brass had long ago become discolored and in desperate need of replacement, and the hinges had been redone a time or two already, but it was apparent they were in need of repair as well. The door creaked open, and the large woman behind it warily poked her head out.
"Afternoon, dearie, what brings you to call?"
"Mrs. Turpin, I'm afraid I have some terrible news."
"Oh! Is that why that dashing young man spent time in your home unattended today?"
"No, Mrs. Turpin, that was my employer, and I am afraid he has very little to do with what I need to tell you." The look on the widow Turpin's face was one of such disappointment that Wylie almost giggled, but managed to stifle her laughter.
"Mrs. Turpin, I have recently been informed that Lord Jameston Ukridge of Dobbinsturn Parish, has joined with two other investors to buy Lugwallow from the Vicar and force us all out on the streets. I don't know when he is coming, but we must warn everyone. We must give our neighbors and friends a chance to get out while they can still salvage their belongings." The widow stared at her in disbelief. "Either that, or we must find a way to stop him."
The widow Turpin let out an audible gasp, so loud and edged with dramatics, that Wylie was sure she would simply fall over from a heart attack.
"Wylie, my dear, I have been here many years, and I can assure you if anyone takes my home from me, it will be over my dead body." The woman's large frame supported a heavy bosom which heaved up and down alarmingly, the angrier she became.
"Then, Mrs. Turpin, surely there is something we can do to prevent such an attack on our livelihood?" Wylie responded.
"This house, as with many of the homes here, were purchased many years ago by Thomas Wilfred Fleming's father. I remember it well. I was a child when my parents moved here though we had lost some of our family to the black plague. Thomas's father was invigorating to listen to; he gave us hope of a better life." Mrs. Turpin paused to wipe away a year. "When he first purchased this parish and built the new church, it was a very exciting time. Dobbinsturn was a bustling city of enchantment, with much to offer those who could afford it, but Lugwallow was supposed to be that for us, small as it is, it was a parish of dreams for the poor." She paused again, her expression one of deep reminiscence.
"I don't even know how it got to be the blight that it is, I suppose Thomas had planned to keep it up, but at his age, he can't afford the repairs. Time and elements are harsh. I always assumed when he passed that, his son would do right by him and fix it up. However, if he is looking to sell, then I supposed that is not to be." Nettie Turpin walked over to the window and stared out onto the street, her head lifting to take in the skies.
"When I was a child, living here was a wonderful time. The airships had not yet taken over the skies, and the streets were not so crowded. I often played outside as a child and once had the great honor of meeting the Queen as she passed through, though I doubt I was more than four or five years of age at the time."
"As the youngest of six children, you can imagine my mother and father barely had two shillings to rub together when we moved here, but we were happy. My father obtained work, and things got better for us until my brother caught the consumption. The little we had saved went to trying to save him."
"He died shortly after that, and my mother soon followed suit. Then it was just the five of us children. My father left this house to my youngest brother, and when he left home years ago to seek his fortune, he left it to my eldest sister. When she married and moved in with her husband, she had no further use for it. We have all lost touch over the years, but this house is all I have left of my family." By the time she had finished her story, a stream of steady tears had rolled over her wrinkled, well-rounded face. She didn't speak for a long time, and the lump in the back of Wylie's throat threatened to let loose a dam of tears that Wylie had been clinging to.
"You know what, my dear? I'll be gol' darned if some wealthy crook is going to take this away from me!" Wylie's face erupted in a smile; the widow had responded better than she had hoped.
"Then surely, Ms. Turpin, we can band together and give the Vicar enough money that he doesn't just give up our homes to someone who would wish us harm. I mean, surely the law will not allow for a man, even a man with money, to take away what is not rightfully his? Surely the Vicar will see that the sale of our homes will put us all out on the streets with nowhere to go?"
Nettie Turpin nodded her head. "More than that, my dear, we are all descendants, brothers, and sisters of the original tenants. Rightfully, Lugwallow belongs to us, crumbling structures and all; we should have some say in the sale!" she huffed, placing her hands on her wide hips.
"Will you speak to the people, Nettie? I am afraid I haven't as much pull around here as you." Wylie was formulating a plan but needed to escape to Dobbinsturn to implement it.
"You bet your arse I will." In an uncharacteristic move, Wylie stepped forward and hugged the widow. She nodded to the widow's middle-aged son, who hadn't spoken a word from the moment she had entered the house.
"Thank you, Nettie. I have an idea, but I'll need to go to Dobbinsturn Parish today. I shall return as soon as I can. Hopefully, we still have a little time before they take action."
"Yes, m'dear. We must not lose hope yet. Go! Do what you must; I'll talk to the people." With that, Nettie was rushing her out the door. Internally Wylie rejoiced that the widow would be taking over the news, sharing responsibilities. She had been living a somewhat solitary lifestyle, even more so now that her father was gone. She enjoyed tending Lord Adrian's horses, but her enjoyment of the animals may not have been entirely altruistic. She now knew without a doubt that her adoration of Lord Adrian made her workdays so enjoyable.
She rushed back home to change out of the dress, which left her feeling a bit exposed and uncomfortable. Thank God, I didn't have to go around town in this thing. It may have been looked down upon for a woman to wear trousers, but she was no society woman, and she would do as she damn well pleased. After changing and pulling on the comfort of her manure-covered Wellingtons, she was on her way to Dobbinsturn moving as quickly as possible.
If only she had thought to ask Adrian to recommend a trustworthy clockmaker. Too late for that, Wylie. She would have to take her chances on the streets of Dobbinsturn and hope Lady Luck was on her side.