They were met at the door by a maid wearing a large pinafore. She bobbed a curtsey to them, before addressing Serena. “Lady Beasley is inspecting the kitchens. The workmen just left, and we’ve been trying to clear out the mess and dust. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to her.”
It was obvious the house was undergoing renovations. Furniture was stacked in the foyer under protective dustcovers, rolled carpets were tilted against the walls, and a number of dust motes hung in the air, illuminated by a broad shaft of sunlight that slanted in from a large fanlight over the front door. Charlotte and Serena picked their way around the obstacles as the maid led them to a flight of steps that descended to the lower level of the house.
The kitchens were in a similar state of disarray, and somewhat gloomier because they lacked natural light. The only windows were against the back wall, small and at ground level. Charlotte could see a bit of grass and shrubbery through them. Argand lamps had been lit to provide additional light.
Lady Beasley turned from a large stove that she’d been inspecting. “Serena, Miss Hurst,” she greeted them, a smile wreathing her face. “The workmen just finished installing this range from Walker’s on Bridge Street. It’s the latest in modern cookery, or so they assured me. I’ve never even warmed milk for myself, although there’s a similar contraption in my own kitchen.” The newfangled stove was nestled within an old brick cooking hearth, its black finish and nickel trim gleaming dully in the low light of the room.
“We’ll have to make sure the kitchen maids know how to use it,” Serena said. She turned to Charlotte. “Inspired by our success of placing several war widows in domestic service in London households, we’ve employed some of them as staff to run this house. Even so, Lady Beasley, the Duchess of Rochester, and I have loaned some of our own servants to help get things ready. We should be ready for occupants in two weeks at the most.”
“But aren’t some of the war widows, like Mrs. Bright from Madame Rochelle’s shop, already in London? Where are they staying presently?”
“Not far from here actually,” Serena replied. “There’s an inn one block away on Eagle Street. They’re lodging there for the time being.”
“This will be a vast improvement from a public inn,” Charlotte said, looking around the kitchen. A series of washtubs had been installed under one of the windows, and cupboards were hung along one of the walls. A large wooden worktable stood in the center of the room, piled with crates stamped with FORTNUM & MASON.
“Come, let me show you the rest of the improvements,” Lady Beasley said. She led them back upstairs. The ground floor had two sitting areas, a large dining room, and a water closet with a copper hip bath as well as a portable bath-shower that could be placed over the copper tub and would allow a bather to pour water over herself from the elevated receptacle.
The bedrooms, which occupied the next two stories, each contained six narrow beds, two dressers, each with a porcelain pitcher and basin, four nightstands, and small flat trunks that easily fit beneath each bed for additional storage. Flowered wallpaper decorated the walls and bright chintz curtains framed the tall windows.
As they toured the upstairs rooms, Serena and Lady Beasley described their vision for helping the war widows. This house, they informed Charlotte, would be devoted to women without children, but they planned to lease a larger building—one they could use to house widows along with their children. This, they explained, was the reason for the subscription ball. Combined with the monies they’d already raised through other means, they could afford to sign a three-year lease on a building only three blocks away. A property that at one time was used as a small inn, so the renovations necessary to make it suitable for housing women and their children were fairly minor.
“What you see here is only the beginning,” Serena explained. “The new property will allow us to do so much more than what’s possible here.”
“One of our biggest goals for the new place,” Lady Beasley chimed in, “is to build a schoolroom for the children. We believe education is one of the keys to lifting people from a life of poverty.”
“Education for the girls as well as the boys,” Serena added. “Our ultimate goal is to put these women and their families in a position to help themselves.”
Charlotte was impressed by the extent of their vision, as well as by what they’d managed to accomplish so far. “I’d no idea of how big a project you’d undertaken,” she said. They’d finished inspecting the bedrooms and stood at the landing in the upstairs hallway. “It’s incredible how you saw a need and found a way to do something about it.”
“We’ve made a good start,” Serena said, “but there’s much work ahead of us. Work you can share in, if you’re interested.”
Charlotte didn’t even hesitate. “Well, of course, I’d be happy to help, but I’m not sure exactly what I can do besides going through my linen cupboards for items you could use.”
She didn’t have the London social connections that they did to help with raising funds or securing donations of furnishings, nor did she know how to help find employment opportunities, but if they could use her assistance in any way, she’d be glad to lend it.
Because the truth was she found the idea that she could make a difference in the lives of others very beguiling. And not only that, it was something she could be a part of once her betrothal came to an end. Because while she’d never want to change her life to the degree she’d have to if she were to marry Lord Norwood, she didn’t want her life to completely return to its former state either. She liked a quiet life, but she was coming to realize she’d been living too quietly, too…narrowly to be truly happy, and though it had satisfied her in the past, it wouldn’t in the future.
Meeting Serena had made her aware she could do more and be more, that a lady needn’t always wait meekly for opportunity to come along, that she could make her own opportunities if she set her mind to it. And that was an intoxicating truth.
“Don’t discount any effort, however small you think it to be,” Serena said. “All together, they add up to accomplishments.”
“There might be one other thing I can do,” Charlotte said, remembering what they’d told her in the kitchen about placing some of the women on household staffs. “I’m looking for an upstairs maid, since one of ours recently gave her notice. If you have someone capable of serving in that position, I’d be willing to take her on.”
“I do have someone,” Serena said. “A young widow newly arrived in London. I’ll arrange for you to interview her.”
“Please do. It’s another small way I can contribute, since I need a replacement maid.”
“Are you free tomorrow morning? I can send her over and let you decide if you wish to employ her.”
“Yes, tomorrow morning will be fine. Say at half past ten?” Charlotte suggested.
“Half past ten, it is,” Serena replied.
“Let’s have some tea in the finished sitting room,” Lady Beasley said. “We can talk there in a great deal more comfort than we can here in the hall.”
They trooped back downstairs to a back sitting room decorated in shades of tan and rose. A maid brought in the tea tray and Lady Beasley poured for them all.
“This room is actually restful now,” Lady Beasley remarked. “A vast improvement over the garish red, purple, and gold that exemplified the taste of my late husband’s last mistress.” She handed a cup of tea to Charlotte. “I do hope I’m not shocking you, Miss Hurst, but this house used to be where my husband tucked away his mistresses. Now I have unfettered use of it during my lifetime.” Her lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. “I think we’re putting it to much better use. Not that I minded my husband’s infidelities. Oh, but now I have shocked you, Miss Hurst,” she said, giving Charlotte an apologetic look.
“Not shocked so much as surprised. I don’t think I could adopt such a tolerant attitude,” Charlotte said. She paused before adding, “Even though I know many ladies do.”
“I didn’t. No
t at first. As a bride, I was a wide-eyed idealist, hopelessly in love with my husband, and I thought his affection for me was similar to mine for him.” She lifted a slim shoulder in an indifferent shrug. “I quickly had the blinders lifted from my eyes, and after the first few hurtful years of our marriage, came to appreciate my husband’s roving ways, since it kept him busy elsewhere. He wasn’t, if I may be candid, the most skilled when it came to lovemaking.”
“Charlotte won’t have that problem with William,” Serena said.
Charlotte was sure her surprise at Serena’s comment was evident on her face because Serena let out a laugh before she added. “Well, that could be taken the wrong way, considering your last comment, Edwina. I meant, Charlotte, that you won’t have to worry about William straying. He’s much too honorable to treat you so shabbily.”
“No, I shouldn’t expect she would,” Lady Beasley agreed. “Norwood is not at all like my late husband, who was a notorious womanizer well before our marriage. Still, I’m not complaining though I sound like I am. Beasley, for all his faults, left me very well-provided for, and I will tell you quite frankly, I’m enjoying my widowhood. Too much to ever marry again.”
“I doubt I’ll ever marry,” Serena said. “I can’t think of one man for whom I’d be willing to give up my freedom, and what legal rights I have as an unmarried woman. Can you believe it’s 1817 and a woman’s legal identity disappears when she marries? It’s medieval!”
“It is,” Lady Beasley said. “One of the reasons a girl can’t be too careful when choosing a husband.”
They all nodded their agreement to this statement.
“It’s disheartening that Mary Wollstonecraft wrote A Vindication of the Rights of Woman twenty-five years ago, and very little has changed since then,” Charlotte said. “I was fortunate that my parents believed a daughter deserved as good an education as a son. Naturally I couldn’t attend Eton like my brother did, but I had an excellent governess, and my father tutored me in advanced mathematics and astronomy.”
“It’s up to us to persuade the men in our lives to push for our legal rights in Parliament.” Serena’s smile turned a bit saucy. “My father has heard many a lecture from me on this topic.”
“Thank heavens my father protected my interests, even though I was too naive and too in love to consider those things at eighteen,” Lady Beasley said. “Papa stipulated in the marriage settlements that the property I brought into the marriage reverted back to me in the event Beasley predeceased me, which he did, obviously. Or our children, if he didn’t. Either way, he only had control of them during the marriage, and even then I had claim to a quarter of the income from them.” Lady Beasley’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “But I’m afraid we’ll give Charlotte second thoughts if we keep talking in this vein. I do hope you don’t mind if I call you Charlotte as Serena does.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Charlotte replied. She felt a twinge of guilt as she recalled how dismissive she’d been regarding William’s generosity in the marriage settlements. True, they didn’t really mean anything unless they married, but she should have shown more appreciation for the gesture. He was, after all, depending on her to cry off. If she didn’t, those provisions, which granted her a great deal of financial independence, would be binding.
“Good. I do prefer to be on a first-name basis with my friends, so you must call me Edwina,” Lady Beasley said. “I was Edwina before I took the name Beasley, and I’ve reached a point in my life where I like being just Edwina once again.”
“Charlotte, you’ve gotten very quiet. William will be most put out with me if we cause you to reconsider the engagement,” Serena said.
“No, I’m not reconsidering,” Charlotte replied with a wry smile. Although Serena could hardly know this answer meant she would indeed cry off and end the engagement.
“Let me ring for a fresh pot of tea,” Edwina said. “Mine has already cooled to a tepid temperature.” She rose and went over to a velvet bell pull and gave it a tug. “I got so busy talking, I quite forgot to drink it while it was hot.” She collected Serena’s and Charlotte’s cups, and set them back onto the tray. A pretty young maid arrived, and upon receiving instructions to bring them some fresh tea, she gathered up the old tea things.
The servant had no sooner departed than the same maid who’d answered the door for their arrival entered the sitting room. With her was the Duchess of Rochester, accompanied by a young lady of about eighteen who bore enough resemblance to the duchess that there must have been some family connection. Charlotte knew the relationship couldn’t be one of mother and daughter. The duchess had been speaking of her children the prior evening at the Huntingtons’, and she’d mentioned her oldest was but twelve years old.
“Ah, Grace, you were able to join us after all.” Edwina waved a hand toward the tan-and-rose-striped sofa, indicating that’s where the newcomers should take a seat. “I hoped you would.”
“We finished our errands in good time.” A swift glance passed between the duchess and the girl. “Though I think Phoebe would have preferred to browse a bit longer in the bookseller’s shop.”
“I don’t blame her,” Serena said, and Charlotte nodded her agreement.
“Nor do I,” the duchess replied as she settled on the sofa. “But I imagine the six books we purchased will keep her busy until we return next week.” She gave the girl a fondly indulgent smile. “Although she devours them so quickly I suspect she keeps the candles burning into the night far later than she ought.”
“And yet there’s always a plentiful supply of candles in my bedroom, Aunt Grace.” Phoebe’s eyes held a mischievous twinkle, and when she smiled a lone dimple appeared in one of her cheeks.
“Of course there is,” her aunt replied with a saucy tilt of her head. “I can’t bring myself to discourage a love of reading, and anyway your mother wouldn’t like it if I allowed you to strain your eyes reading in poor light. Next year, when you have your come-out, there will be less opportunity for late-night reading because social events will keep you out until the wee hours of dawn, so I may as well allow you to indulge yourself now.”
“She looks well-rested enough,” Edwina remarked as a maid returned with another tea tray. “I, for one, envy the energy of youth. Nowadays I read only late at night when I need help falling asleep.”
Once fresh cups of tea had been handed out, and a belated introduction made between Charlotte and Phoebe when it was realized they’d never met, Serena asked the duchess for the latest tally regarding tickets sold to their subscription ball.
“Providing neither of you have new ticket sales to report, we only have seventeen unsold tickets, but even if they remain unpurchased, we’ve met our monetary goal.”
A broad smile came over Serena’s face. “I was confident we would. So much so, that in a few days Papa’s solicitor and I have an appointment with the landlord to sign a three-year lease.” Her gaze swept among the room’s occupants, pausing briefly to study each lady’s face in turn. “And with this success, I think it’s time to embrace the sentiment that many hands make light work and create a more structured group of ladies who share our vision.”
No one said anything for a moment as they let the idea sink in, but Charlotte could tell Edwina and the duchess liked this idea.
“We could have regular meetings,” Serena continued, “to keep everyone informed about specific ongoing projects, or about what needs to be done. We could still use some items for this place, and the new property will have to be supplied with furniture and linens, which we hope to do solely through donations. Given what it took for the three of us”—she nodded toward Edwina and the duchess—“to secure what we have here, furnishing a bigger place will require a great deal of effort. We’re going to need help. Not to mention we’ll have to devise various ongoing ways to raise funds to pay the household expenses for two places.”
“We could hold the meetings at my house on Upper Grosvenor Street,” Edwina said. “I’ve plenty of room and no man
in my life to raise any objections.”
“I second that,” the duchess said. “Should we meet weekly or on a biweekly schedule?”
“Weekly, I think,” Serena said. “Although, if you feel that’s too frequent, we could plan on biweekly.”
“I tend to think weekly would be best for our purposes,” Edwina said. “And I don’t mind hosting a gathering once a week. The question is do you think people would be willing to come that often?”
“A fair point,” the duchess said. “I expect they would, particularly if there’s a social element to our meetings.”
“Good refreshments couldn’t hurt,” Charlotte offered. “My brother says good food and good brandy can lure a man to the dullest of gatherings. I imagine we can apply that principle to ladies as well. Not,” she added hastily, “that I’m implying your gatherings would be dull.”
Edwina smiled impishly. “Offering brandy might hold the appeal of novelty, not to mention it’s deliciously improper. For ladies, at any rate.”
“Why don’t you make it the female version of a men’s club?” Phoebe asked. “You could still keep people apprised of whatever is going on with your projects, but it wouldn’t be only about that.”
“I like the idea of making it a mix of social club and social causes,” the duchess said. “Though I’m not exactly sure what Phoebe means by suggesting it be a female version of a men’s club.”
“Just that men use their clubs as a place to eat, drink, smoke, play cards, place wagers, gossip, discuss business, and get away from the ladies in their lives. While we”—she made a sweeping gesture with her arm—“have nothing quite like it. I think it would be nice if we did.”
“To be clear, dear, you’re not suggesting we take up drinking and smoking and gambling, are you?” the duchess asked. “Because your mother would have my head if I allowed you to do any of those things, and you’d find yourself back in Spinneymead in a trice.”
Not the Kind of Earl You Marry Page 18
