by Mary Nichols
‘Teddy, that money is meant for you to pay off Lord Bolsover and your other debts. It was not given to you to fund your travelling.’
‘Unfortunately I have no choice. Five thousand is not nearly enough to see me clear and Hector Bolsover, for some reason of his own, has been going round buying up all my debts, not only the gambling debts, but everything else. I don’t know what his game is, but it ain’t good to have all one’s debts in one pot. Spread about a bit they can be managed by paying off a little here and there, robbing Peter to pay Paul, as it were, but as it is I am trumped. There is nothing for it—I must emigrate.’
She was appalled. ‘Teddy, have you been gambling since you returned home?’
‘I’ve only been trying to recoup my losses. I thought it would save you having to stand buff for me...’
‘Now you are in deeper than ever.’ She was exasperated that he never seemed to learn.
‘Sorry, Jane.’
‘Have you told Papa and Mama you are leaving?’
‘I am about to.’
‘And when will you go?’
‘On tonight’s mail. Wish me luck, Jane.’
‘Luck! I would sooner box your ears. You have brought disgrace on this family, Teddy, with all this talk of luck. I can only hope that a spell abroad and some real work will bring about a miracle.’
‘Oh, Jane, give over your lecture. You will not see me again for some time, let us not part at odds with each other.’
His engaging grin was still evident and she relented enough to hug him and tell him to take care.
The family was all at odds, she reflected as he hurried away. Her brother was a scapegrace and her sister, Isabel, was having serious doubts about a marriage that had been talked about for years and welcomed by both families. Her father was worried to death about his finances and her mother blind to it. So far there was nothing wrong with Sophie except a tendency to speak without thinking. As for her own thoughts and feelings, they were as much in disarray as everyone else’s. The best cure for that, she decided, was to occupy herself with something worthwhile.
She was determined to make her orphanage a success and although she had enough to start looking for premises, she would still need a regular income to run it. To find that she must raise more money and the best place to do that was London. Her father would never allow her to go alone and he was too preoccupied to take her. It would need some thought.
* * *
Jane consulted the Rector and Mrs Caulder and though the Reverend said he would enquire about premises, he cautioned her not to consider travelling to London without a male escort. ‘Instead you could make a start by writing letters to influential people,’ he said.
‘Begging letters?’ she queried in dismay.
‘Well, yes, but in a very good cause. Shall we give the organisation a name so that you are not asking for yourself, but on behalf of everyone connected with the idea? I would ask Lord Wyndham to put his name to it, but it is too soon after his bereavement. I will sound out one or two others.’
They spent some time suggesting and discarding names for the project. Jane did not want the word orphanage to be used. ‘It will be a home,’ she said. ‘A home and a school.’ In the end they decided on the Hadlea Children’s Home and she would spend a little of the money having headed notepaper printed.
She was walking home, turning the phrases of her letter over in her mind, when Mark caught up with her. ‘Jane, I was on my way to visit you.’
Long practice had made her adept at calming herself when she met him. She turned and smiled, taking in his dark suit and black cravat, the bleakness of his countenance, and wished she could comfort him. There was no one to do that, except perhaps his mother, who was too immersed in her own grief to do it. Isabel seemed incapable of it.
‘My lord,’ she said.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Jane, let’s not have any of that “my lord” nonsense, or I shall become very cross with you.’ He fell into step beside her. ‘What were you so deep in thought about, that you did not hear me?’
She told him about her plans for the Hadlea Children’s Home. ‘Thanks to you and your father, we have enough to look for premises, but we need a few wealthy philanthropists to pledge future income,’ she said. ‘Papa cannot take me to London at present, so I must write letters. If I could mention one or two influential people, it would help.’
‘You may use my name, Jane.’
‘Oh, I didn’t mean... Oh dear, it sounded as if I was asking...’ She stopped in confusion because he was laughing.
‘Oh, yes, you were, and blatantly too.’
‘But you did ask what I was thinking about.’
‘I did, that is true, and it is also true I would have offered in any case. I will help in any way I can.’
‘But you have so much to do, sorting out the estate and getting used to your new role.’
‘It is not that difficult, Jane. My father involved me in the affairs of the estate as soon as I was old enough to understand. He groomed me well for the job and the workers are all good men who know what is expected of them. The difficulty arises because my father is no longer here to advise me and I miss that. Mother looks after the house and the indoor servants, but she has never taken an interest in what is happening on the estate. I am on my own there.’
‘You have our support for what it is worth.’
‘It is worth a great deal, Jane.’
She felt the colour flood her face. ‘You said you were on your way to call on us.’
‘Yes. I have to go to London on business and wondered if Sir Edward or Lady Cavenhurst had any little commissions I could do for them while I am there.’
‘That is kind of you.’ She paused, as an idea came to her. ‘You could do something for me, though.’
‘Gladly. What is it?’
‘Take me with you. I am sure Papa would allow me to go if you were to escort me. I could stay with Lady Cartrose, widow of my mother’s brother. She lives in Mount Street. All you need do is take me to her.’
‘I am not sure...’
‘Please, Mark. I could do my fund-raising so much easier in the capital, make appointments to meet people, have the notepaper printed, that sort of thing. Aunt Emmeline is well up in society and could perhaps introduce me to people. I am sure I could be more persuasive face to face than by correspondence.’
‘Oh, I am sure you could,’ he said. ‘And I would take you willingly if I thought it could be accomplished with propriety.’
‘And why would it not? You are to be my brother-in-law, are you not?’
‘I am not sure that guarantees anything, Jane,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘Let us see what Sir Edward thinks, shall we?’
* * *
Sir Edward, when he was approached, was dubious. ‘My daughter thinks she is mature and independent,’ he said. ‘And to some extent she is, but we cannot flout convention. It is bad enough that Teddy... No, we will not speak of him.’ Teddy had departed in a welter of tears from his mother and anger from his father, who had told him he had washed his hands of him.
‘It would be perfectly proper if Isabel were to go, too,’ Lady Cavenhurst said. ‘Then Jane would be their chaperon.’
‘Oh, yes, yes,’ Isabel said, eyes shining. ‘I should like that very much.’
‘Yes, that would serve,’ Sir Edward agreed, turning to his wife. ‘Do you think your sister-in-law will have them?’
‘I am sure she will. She is always asking when we are going to pay her a visit. I will write to her at once. My lord, will you take the letter to the mail office on your way home?’
‘Gladly, my lady. There is something you could do for me in return. Would you call and bear my mother company while I am away? She is still feeling very down and I do not like leaving her.’
‘Of course I will. When do you go?’
‘I was planning to make a start tomorrow, but I will defer it until the day after to give the ladies time to pack. I mean to be on the road betimes, so I will call for them with the coach at half past eight if that is not too early.’
‘We will be ready,’ Jane said.
He bowed his way out, leaving Isabel jumping up and down in excitement.
* * *
The journey was accomplished in two days with frequent changes of horses at the various staging inns along the way and an overnight stay at the halfway point. Isabel spent much of her time looking out of the coach window and exclaiming at what she saw, while Jane and Mark discussed Jane’s fund-raising.
‘There are several orphanages in London,’ he said. ‘Some good, some downright bad. You should visit a few of them and find out how they are run and how they raise their money and perhaps learn some of the pitfalls to avoid. They might give you some ideas. Once my business is done I will be happy to escort you. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Yes, that will be convenient, thank you,’ Jane said. ‘It will give me time to prepare some notes in the morning.’
‘How boring,’ Isabel said.
‘You do not have to come, Issie, dear,’ Jane said. ‘I am sure Aunt Emmeline will find something for you to do more to your taste. You know what a busy social life she leads.’
‘But you will be taking Mark from me.’
‘I will make it up to you, Isabel,’ he said. ‘You must allow your sister to have her children’s home. After all, you have your wedding to look forward to.’ He smiled. ‘Already two weeks of the six months have passed.’
‘Yes. I am a crosspatch, aren’t I?’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘Shall you like to visit Bullock’s Museum? I believe they are displaying Napoleon’s coach captured at Waterloo. We could all go one afternoon.’
* * *
She had been mollified by this idea and had recovered her good humour by the time the coach drew up outside Lady Cartrose’s house in Mount Street. Mindful of his escort duties, he bade Jeremy take the coach on to Wyndham House and entered the town house to hand his charges and their maid over to her ladyship, who had received her sister-in-law’s letter and was expecting them. Since Jane had last seen her she had put on a great deal of weight and was now a roly-poly of a woman. She was dressed in a dark-purple gown and wore a white cap on dyed red hair.
‘Come in and let me look at you,’ she said, as the maid who had conducted them to the drawing room disappeared to fetch refreshments and Bessie was conducted up to their rooms to unpack. ‘My, you are quite grown up now and so elegant. I did not know I had such beautiful nieces. Do present your escort.’
‘Aunt Emmeline, this is Lord Wyndham,’ Jane said.
‘And am I right in thinking he is your betrothed?’ She turned a round, smiling face to Mark.
Jane was dismayed. ‘On, no, Aunt. Lord Wyndham is Isabel’s betrothed, not mine.’
‘Oh, dear, what a foolish mistake to make. I must have misread you mother’s letter. My lord, please forgive me.’
Mark bowed to her. ‘My lady, it is of no consequence.’
‘Do let us be seated.’ She waved her hand in the direction of two sofas and some chairs. ‘Then we can have a comfortable coze over some refreshments and you can tell me all about yourselves.’ She sat on one of the sofas as a maid brought in the tea tray and another appeared with two plates loaded with cakes and pastries.
It soon transpired that her ladyship was very deaf and they were obliged to repeat almost everything they said in very loud voices, while her ladyship munched her way through two large pastries and several cakes. The girls ate one cake each and Mark felt duty bound to manage more than that in order to please their hostess.
* * *
An hour later, when her ladyship had satisfied herself that she had learned all she needed to know about their lives and aspirations, Mark prepared to take his leave. ‘I shall be occupied on business affairs during the morning tomorrow,’ he told her ladyship. ‘But I shall call in the afternoon, if I may. I promised Jane to take her to visit some orphanages.’
‘Then you should go to the Foundling Hospital,’ she said. ‘It is open to the public and has raised considerable sums for its upkeep with artwork and musical evenings.’
‘Yes, I have heard of it,’ Jane said. ‘I should like to do that.’
‘In the meantime I will invite as many wealthy acquaintances as I can squeeze into my drawing room for music, cards and refreshments two evenings hence, so that you might be introduced to them and talk to them about your children’s home. It will not be easy to extract money from them, however. Everyone is complaining of hard times. The war cost everyone dear in taxes and last year’s dismal summer and the poor harvest means their estates and investments are not producing the income they have come to expect.’
‘All the more reason for people to think about the poor orphans,’ Jane said. ‘If times are hard for the wealthy, they are even harder for the poorer people.’
‘I am sure that your silver tongue will do the trick,’ Mark said. ‘Until tomorrow, then.’ He bowed and was gone, leaving the ladies to discuss social affairs and exchange gossip.
* * *
The Foundling Hospital, set up by the philanthropist Thomas Coram over seventy years before, was much bigger than Jane had imagined it would be. Most of the children were the offspring of unmarried women, though there were some orphans. The children were well clothed and well fed and appeared happy in their way, but Jane could not agree that giving them new names and cutting them off from their real parents, even if there was only one, was the way she would go. It was done, she was told, so that the mother could repent of her sin and make a new life for herself unburdened by children.
‘I would rather encourage the children to meet and talk about their kin,’ she said as she and Mark returned to Mount Street. ‘Especially widowed mothers. Families are important.’
He had been supporting her all the way, standing beside her as she spoke to the Governor of the home and asking pertinent questions she might not have thought of herself. This time alone with him was precious, so precious, that it was difficult to give her mind to the purpose of their visit. Every time her arm had brushed his sleeve or he put his hand under her elbow to help her up a step, she had felt the warmth flood her whole body. She really must make herself concentrate on the conversation and not the fact that they were alone together in his carriage.
‘I think you are right,’ he said. ‘Poor Drew’s relations did not want anything to do with him when he was orphaned. They sent him to a good school and believed that was the end of their responsibilities. It is one of the reasons I befriended him and brought him to stay at Broadacres.’
‘Yes, I remember him telling me. He has done well for himself since.’
‘Yes, and I heard him say he would help with your project. You must keep him up to it.’
‘If I see him again.’ She paused. ‘Mark, do you trust him?’
‘Naturally I do. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason.’ She took a deep breath and changed the subject. ‘The Coram has given me other ideas for raising money besides writing letters. We could arrange musical evenings with talented musicians for which the wealthy audience would pay handsomely and we could put on a fair in the village and ask for donations for the stalls and prizes for competitions, charging a small entrance fee.’
‘A fair would not attract the wealthy,’ he said. ‘It would mean a great deal of work for a small reward.’
‘I know, but it would give the people of Hadlea the opportunity to become involved. I want the home to be part of the community, not cut off behind hedges and walls. And every little helps. I thought the last Saturday in August would give the best chance of goo
d weather and allow time to arrange it all.’
‘Then we could do it on Ten Acre Field on the far side of Broadacres estate.’
‘But, Mark, would that be wise? You are so recently bereaved. What will your mother say?’
‘I will consult her, but she will say it was what my father would have wished. Your project was close to his heart, as it is to mine.’
‘What would I do without you?’
‘I am sure you would manage admirably.’ He turned to smile at her, making her heart flip. Did Isabel realise how fortunate she was?
* * *
They arrived back at Mount Street to hear from Isabel that she and Lady Cartrose had been riding in her ladyship’s open carriage in Hyde Park and they had stopped frequently so that she could be introduced to some of her ladyship’s many acquaintances. ‘I am sure it was more interesting than visiting an orphanage,’ she told them. ‘And guess who we chanced upon, riding in the Row? Mr Ashton, no less. When he heard you were in town, Mark, he said he would call on you. And Aunt Emmeline has invited him to call tomorrow. There was talk of an outing together.’ Her face was alight with enthusiasm and excitement, which filled Jane with a kind of foreboding.
Strangely Mark did not appear to see his danger. He smiled and said he would have called on Drew in any case and he would certainly make time for an outing if that was what the ladies wished. Then he bowed his way out.
Chapter Five
The outing was arranged the next morning when both men arrived at Mount Street at the same time. They would visit Bullock’s Museum that afternoon and attend a concert in the Chinese Pavilion at Ranelagh Gardens in the evening, a plan which pleased Isabel. As soon as they had taken their leave she began discussing the dress she would wear.
‘My green-and-pink-striped sarsenet,’ she said. ‘With a pink bonnet and gloves.’
‘Issie, you must remember that Mark is in mourning and that you, as his betrothed, should be a little more sombre in what you wear.’
‘You mean I should go into mourning, too? We are not married yet. His late lordship was not kin to me. I do not see the necessity.’