"I still have a lot of paperwork to do, so you are going to have to amuse yourself for a little while, I'm afraid," Mr Manston said as the carriage bumped along the cobblestones.

"That's fine." Leah stifled a yawn. "I brought a book with me, anyway. I thought I might need it."

"If you can stay awake long enough to read it. I thought I told you to get an early night?"

"I did!"

Mr Manston shook his head. "You are a terrible liar, Leah."

She tightened her grip on the book resting in her lap and looked out the window, watching the city roll by. Dark clouds lingered in the sky above, the smoke from the factories mingling with the wisps of clouds. Leah expected it to rain later, but for the moment, the streets were dry. Rain or not, she was glad to be out of the house once more.

It had been several weeks since Leah's last visit to her father's factory, and she looked forward to seeing his workmen once more. She had grown up around them after spending much of her childhood sitting in her father's office whilst her mother suffered from her headaches. This visit was long overdue.

Many of her father's fellow factory owners would never have thought of taking their daughter to work with them. Mr Manston saw things differently. He knew Leah had a right to see what happened and to understand the runnings of the factory, for if she did not marry, his half of the factory would fall to her. Ezra would take on the other half, but he was never interested in the workings of the factory. Leah was.

The carriage came to a stop at the front gates and Leah leaned closer to the window, staring up at the large brick building in front of them. It was a large, imposing building covered in windows that looked over the city. It looked like any other factory, but Leah knew that inside, the workers were treated with respect, which could not be said for the other factories.

Leah climbed out of the carriage and jumped onto the stone floor, clutching the book in her hands. She waited for her father before the two of them stepped through the gates and followed the stones up to the front door. The door opened to reveal Mr Lomax, one of the workmen under Mr Manston's employment.

"Ah, Miss Manston. I wondered when we would see you again," he said, smiling.

"Good morning, Mr Lomax."

"I see you have brought something to do." He gestured to the book in her hand. "I cannot imagine that watching your father fill out paperwork is a particularly enjoyable task."

"No, not particularly, but I am grateful to be out of the house."

"Hm, I bet you are." Mr Lomax turned to Mr Manston and leaned close to his ear, keeping his voice low, but Leah still heard him. "They found another last night. Mr Pick."

"How many is that now?"

"Eleven killed, one attempted. He's still unconscious in the Infirmary. They don't know if he is going to make it."

Mr Manston sighed and placed his hand on Leah's shoulder. "Come, I have work to do."

Mr Lomax stepped aside, holding the door open for Leah and Mr Manston to step through. Their footsteps echoed off the wooden floor as Mr Manston led Leah down a long hallway and up a large flight of stairs. They walked down a second long hallway before Mr Manston reached a wooden door at the far end.

He opened the door and gestured Leah inside, following her in. Leah stood in the centre of the room and looked around at her father's office. Windows lined either side of the officer, looking out onto the factory floor. Both sides also had a small door that led out onto a balcony. In the centre of the room sat her father's desk, which was weighed down with paperwork.

Leah placed her book on one of the chairs that sat opposite her father's desk. She crossed the room to one of the windows and peered out onto the factory floor. Below, women pushed the large looms back and forth across the floor. Small fibres of cotton drifted through the surrounding air.

She pushed open the small door, her father too engrossed in his paperwork to notice, and stepped out onto the balcony. The air on the factory floor was heavy with small fibres and the scent of sweat filled her nose. The looms clicked and whirred as they were moved across the floor whilst the workers moved in silence. Every now and then, a small cough would cut through the loud whirring.

One worker glanced up to the balcony where Leah stood, the two of them making eye contact. Leah noted the dark circles under her eyes, the exhaustion etched into the lines on her face, and the sluggish way she moved despite having only been on the job for an hour or so. This was not the sort of worker Leah remembered seeing.

When she had last been at the factory, the workers were happy to be doing the job Mr Manston paid them for. They whispered amongst each other, laughed, and looked refreshed and ready for the work ahead of them. These were not the same happy workers that she had expected.

"Pick up the pace!" the foreman, Mr Wilson, barked.

The woman who had been looking at Leah jumped and turned back to the loom. Anger swelled in Leah's chest. All this time she thought her father to be a respectable man, a man who treated his workers correctly, and he had been. Her mother had been right. The new quota for exports had turned him into the one thing Leah hated.

He exploited his workers for financial gain. Used them to earn him money whilst allowing them to suffer and work longer hours for the same wages. Mr Manston had become just like all the other factory owners in the city, the men who had fallen victim to the killer.

Leah turned and walked back into the office, looking at her father as he scribbled away on the sheet of paper. He was no longer the man she thought of him to be ten minutes ago. She said nothing and crossed to the chair, picking up her book and sitting down to read it.

Mr Manston looked up from his paperwork and smiled, Leah offered a small one back but she couldn't stop the anger coursing through her veins. He looked at the book in her hand and frowned.

"What happened to your hand?"

She glanced down at the healing scratches and bruises along her knuckles. "I caught it on the wall when I was stretching."

"You need to be more careful."

"Don't worry, I will be."

~~~

First Published - February 14th, 2023