Chapter 8.
A Charming Fellow.

Abigail had been looking forward to this event for several weeks. The head of the Reform Society, Miss Richardson, had managed to convince celebrated novelist Charles Dickens to come and perform a reading from his latest novel, Hard Times. Abigail had purchased every novel Mr. Dickens had published and was a great fan of his work. His attacks on the problems their society faced were intricately woven into a fantastic story with colorful characters.

Now she couldn't help but feel the whole evening was spoiled. She had even considered skipping the event altogether, but decided against it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet her favorite author and it wasn't worth missing just because of a bothersome aristocrat. 

Thus, on the evening of the event, Abigail put on her dinner dress, bundled up in her coat, and took the cab to Reform Society. She saw Lord Righton waiting for her at the entrance.

"Oh joy," Abigail mumbled. She remembered her manners, however, and gave him a polite smile. "You are a punctual man, Lord Righton."

"It's my first time attending such an event, I  didn't want to be late in case I missed something interesting."

"This is the Reform Society, Lord Righton, all we will do is talk about the problems of society and how we can best help bring about changes. I hardly believe you will find it interesting."

He only gave a polite smile and motioned with his hand for her to enter. Abigail gave an inward sigh of relief. She had half expected him to offer her his arm, and then she would have had to refuse, and it would have made this already awkward excursion even more awkward.

Upon entering, they hung their coats up and went into the hall. It was filling up slowly but surely. Rushing about here and there was a middle-aged woman with a kind smile and anxious eyes. Her round face was full of color as she hurried about from one side of the room to another. Upon spotting Abigail, her eyes lit up, and she rushed over to greet her.

"Abigail, my dear, I knew you would come! You would never miss an event such as this. And who is the gentleman with you?"

"Miss Richardson, this is Lord David Righton. Your Lordship, Miss Richardson. She is the leader of our little Reform Society."

"How do you do, Miss Richardson," Lord Righton extended his hand, his voice enthusiastic and his face bearing a genuine smile.

"How do you do, Lord Righton," she replied in a slightly awed voice. "It's not every day that we entertain someone with a title."

"It is only a courtesy title that my brother insists I use," Lord Righton waved the formalities away. "I am but a younger son and a lawyer by profession. If it will make everyone more comfortable, perhaps we shall drop the lord and address me simply as Mr. Righton. We are all equals here, anyway, come to help our fellow mankind."

Miss Richardson turned to Abigail, her eyes shining with approval. "Abby, my dear, it is a gentleman indeed that you have brought us. Please, take a seat. The reading shall begin soon. Afterwards, I have a few things to discuss with you. Mr. Righton, please make yourself at home. You are most welcome here."

Abigail nodded, and Miss Richardson hurried off.

"Charming woman," Lord Righton said with a smile. "Shall we sit at the front? I believe Mr. Dickenson is your favorite author. Did you bring a book for him to sign?"

The color rushed to Abigail's face. In her worrying about Lord Righton she had forgotten to take a book with her. Not wanting to admit it, however, Abigail decided not to say nothing and just got comfortable in her chair.

The reading was marvoulous. Abigail got so caught up in it she forgot all about Lord Righton and how she didn't want him to come with her. She even got to fulfill her wildest dream and greet Mr. Dickens and shake his hand. Long conversation was of course out of the question as there were many who wanted to shake his hand and he had a tight schedule. Besides, Miss Richardson soon sought her out and pulled her to the side.

"So, what is it about Mr. Smith."

"Oh, him,"  Abigail rolled her eyes. "That man is insufferable. He got the parents all riled                     He is also keep the younger ones in the mills together with the older ones, saying that by law he is allowed to keep them there until seven pm as it is winter. I tried to reason with him but he kicked me out of his office and said he had lawyers who advise him so he knows what he is doing."

"Oh, he had lawyers, does he," Miss Richardson huffed. Her round face suddenly lit up. "But Abby, don't you have a lawyer as well. Where is he?"

The color rushed to Abigail's face. "I hardly think Lord Righton..." her voice died away because Miss Richardson had already run off in search of Lord Righton, and Abigail found herself following her. They found him conversing with Dr. Ludlow about the conditions of the mental asylums in London. Dr. Ludlow was deep in description of what the inamtes in the asylums had to go through, and Lord Righton stood listening attentively, his face full of serious attention. Miss Richardson bardged straight in.

"Good evening, Dr. Ludlow, I hate to interrupt, but I need the advice of Mr. Righton on an urgent matter. Mr. Righton, Abby here has a situation with the owner of Farllow Mills. Mr. Smith is refusing to accept the certificate that she gives to her students to show they have attended school for the amount of hours required by law. He says it is because she is an ill-qualified school mistress. Because of this the parents of her students are unhappy. You see, money is taken from the children's wages to pay for the schooling, but since the certifcates are invalid it is now money wasted. To appease them Mr. Smith is demanding the money for the education be paid back."

Lord Righton shook his head. "He doesn't have the right to refuse the certificates. If he is unhappy with her as a school mistress, he can find another one. However,as for the learning that was provided in the past semester, he has no other option but to accept the certificates. His displeasure does not affect their validity.  The hours were met and  the education was given - whether it be good or bad is a matter of opinion."

Miss Richardson shot Abigail a victorious glance before turning back to Lord Righton. "And then there is the matter with the little ones. He has children as young as seven and eight employed at his factory, working twelve hour shifts. I know for a fact that children under nine are only allowed to be employed for ten hours a day. But he won't listen to us because he says he has lawyers to advise him."

"I do believe you are right, Miss Richardson, but I must warn you I am not very well aqauinted with labor law. However, if Miss Havisham needs help with Mr. Smith I can polish up on the rules for child labor and help resolve the conflict."

"That would be capital, Mr. Righton!" Miss Richardson turned to Abigail with beaming eyes. "There, you see, we have our own lawyers to advise us as well."

Abigail gave a smile. She was of course glad there was someone willing to help resolve the dilemma, only she wished it didn't have to be Lord Righton.

"If you are available next Saturday, Miss Havisham?"

Abigail nodded. "I am. Thank you, Lord Righton."

"Mr. Righton," he corrected. "I must insist that you call me that. Lord Righton sounds far too posh and out of place."

"Mr. Righton it is. Thank you for offering your services. If you will wait a moment, I shall write down the address of the mill and we can meet there next Saturday at 10 o'clock."

Lord Righton gave a nod and Abigail went off in search of paper. When she returned she found the three of them engrossed in deep discussion about the ethics of child labor and how young was too young to be let into a factory.

"Forgive me interruption, here is the address, Mr. Righton. It has been a long evening and I wish to return home. Good night, Miss Richardson, Dr. Ludlow, Mr. Righton." Abigail half expected Lord Righton to say he would escort her home, but he merely smiled and turned back to the conversation. This relieved Abigail, but it also puzzled her. Lord Righton was not behaving in the way she had expected. He didn't turn up his nose at anyone, he didn't pretend he was superior, or that he knew better. He spoke little and listened more. She could see Miss Richardson was charmed with him, and Dr. Ludlow seemed to like him as well. And to think she was the one leaving first? Who could have imagined?

She had just put her coat on when a tap on her shoulder made her turn around. It was Lord Righton. He held something in his outstretched hands.

"For me?" Abigail asked.

"For you."

She took the object from his hands and her eyes met his. For a brief moment they stared at each other.

"Good night, Miss Havisham," Lord Righton said at last.

Abigail felt the heat rush to her face. She looked down and mumbled in reply. She heard him chuckle ever so softly and walk back to the crowded hall. Abigail didn't dare lift her head, instead she studied the gift he had brought her. It was a book. It was Charles Dicken's latest novel, Hard Times. Opening it, Abigail caught her breath. In the left corner of the first page, written in neat ink, was the author's name.

She shut the book and hugged it tightly. No matter what she thought or suspected of Lord Righton, she couldn't help appreciate his thoughtful gesture. Tonight's event turned out to be a success after all.