Chapter 5
There was nothing to sharpen the temper like a bad night of sleep. Generally, Thalia slept like a log after a party. Jonathan never allowed her to leave early, and so she was always exhausted by the time she finally retired.
Since she woke every morning at half past seven to the very second, no matter how much she would like to sleep later, that meant she woke groggy and thoroughly bad-tempered.
And then, of course, there were the events of last night to think upon.
How could she have been so foolish to proposition the Lord of Scandal, for heaven’s sake? And it certainly was a proposition. She’d backed herself into a corner, make no mistake about that. And his offer, suggesting that she travel to meet him at night… Well, that was out of the question.
Thalia adjusted her spectacles, eyeing her reflection with resignation. It would have to do.
She left her bedroom and hurried to the breakfast-room. Jonathan liked mealtimes to be stately and serious. They never ate breakfast in the dining room, always in the breakfast room, even though the room was damp and particularly cold and dark in winter.
That, Jonathan had assured her, did not matter. It was all about the look of the thing.
She peered into the breakfast room. Sure enough, there he was, turning the crisp pages of the newspaper over his morning coffee.
He shot her a quick, cold look. “Good morning, Thalia. You are late.”
She wasn’t late, but it didn’t seem to be worth arguing over. Instead, she gave a faint smile and slipped into her seat. A footman wordlessly served her usual breakfast: an egg, a slice of toast, and a large cup of tea.
Jonathan rustled his newspaper. “You’ll be pleased to hear that Mr. Pembroke will not be calling on us this morning. I tried to sound him out on the matter last night, and he was most determined not to come.”
Thalia swallowed down her relief.
“Oh, I see,” she said as carelessly as she could.
Her brother glowered at her. “Shall we discuss last night?”
“I am not sure there is much to discuss. I was pleasant to Mr. Pembroke, was I not? As you required.”
He sniffed. “That business with the Duke… I do hope you aren’t setting your sights on him.”
“I am not an absolute fool, Jonathan,” she shot back, reaching for the jam. “I can only assume that he wanted to annoy you and Mr. Pembroke by making me dance with him. Something he achieved very neatly, by the way. He did not speak to me for the rest of the night after all.”
Jonathan seemed faintly mollified. “Very well. Just so long as you aren’t thinking of going after him. The Duke is a phenomenal catch, to be sure, but he isn’t the marrying type. You might waste the entire Season on him and end up with no match and a ruined reputation at the end of it.”
“Then why did you invite him to our party?”
He shot her a baffled look. “Because he is a duke, of course.”
She sighed. “I see.”
“Well, since Mr. Pembroke is not coming, you have the day to do as you please. What do you plan to do?”
She brightened. “St. Sarah’s, I think.”
At once, Jonathan’s face fell. “That wretched orphanage. I don’t like to see you there so often. You know that.”
“Lots of ladies do charitable work, especially unmarried ones.”
“Yes, but they do charitable work to appear kind and good,” he responded sourly. “They don’t let it dominate their lives as you do.”
Thalia sipped her tea meditatively. “That does not seem very charitable to me.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Well, you can do as you like, I suppose. But in public, talk about it in moderation. Gentlemen like to know that a lady is kind and charitable, but they don’t want the details crammed down their throats during a waltz.”
“Life, after all, revolves entirely around the preferences of gentlemen,” Thalia agreed.
Jonathan scowled at her. “Enough of your cleverness. If you like, you and I could go promenading. We could have ices at Gunter’s afterwards.”
To her surprise, she felt a spark of hope. She cleared her throat, eyeing her plate. It would be nice to spend time with her brother without arguing. Hadn’t they once been close?
Don’t be a fool, she scolded herself. There will be an argument, and in any case, he’ll just try and throw you in Mr. Pembroke’s way or something like that.
“Perhaps another time,” she said, offering a smile.
Jonathan sniffed, turning his attention back to his newspaper. “Very well. Don’t be late home. I won’t hold dinner for you.”
You never do, she thought, but didn’t say as much.
An hour later saw her walking up to the wrought-iron gates of the orphanage.
The cobbled road in front of the building was in need of repair.
She had to tread carefully so as not to twist an ankle on the missing cobbles.
She could have taken the carriage, of course, and sometimes she did to take the children on rides.
However, it was generally more pleasant to walk.
The gatekeeper nodded genially to her, pulling open the gates to let her inside. “Good morning, My Lady.”
“Good morning, Fred. Where are the children?”
“Playing in the courtyard, I believe. They’ll be happy to see you; there’s been bad news.” He leaned forward, dropping his voice. “You know our little tradition for the birthdays?”
Thalia’s heart sank. The board of trustees for St. Sarah’s was remarkably strict.
Of course, all orphanages and workhouses were similarly monitored.
Nobody wanted to spend money on the needy.
It was apparently far easier to consider the poor as inherently lazy or perhaps all drunks and gamblers.
It was harder to blame the orphaned children for their situation, so they were simply written off as nuisances.
Any luxuries or treats were firmly opposed. At the moment, a small Christmas dinner was all that could be managed, and the matrons and teachers tried to make sure that each child had a piece of fruit, a new handkerchief, and possibly a small present for their birthday.
“Let me guess,” she mumbled. “It’s been forbidden.”
Fred nodded grimly. “An unnecessary luxury, they said. Sister Abigail tried to argue against it, but she was overruled.”
Thalia’s shoulders sank. With over a hundred children in the orphanage and more coming every day, there was no way she could buy presents for each child’s birthday, not with the allowance Jonathan gave her.
But in a month, I could. Presuming I stay unmarried.
She swallowed, looking away. “Well, that’s bad news.”
“To be sure. But Cook says she’ll try and make something special for the children when it’s their day, which is better than nothing.”
“She’s a good woman.” Thalia nodded. “Well, thank you for telling me, Fred. Do the children know?”
“Aye, they’ve been told. Hardly any of them complained, bless their hearts. And some of them have plenty to complain about.”
A cool breeze ruffled her hair, making her shiver and pull her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
“I hope that one day we can take better care of them than this,” she murmured.
Fred inclined his head. “So do I, My Lady. So do I.”
Thalia slipped past him, stepping into the crumbling old building.
She had chosen to patronize St. Sarah’s for one simple reason—they took good care of the children. The place was run by a young nun, Sister Abigail, who adored children and kept the place shipshape. However, there were still difficult decisions to be made.
For example, last year, the Christmas celebration was cut down to almost nothing so that new schoolbooks could be afforded. Thalia had appealed to her brother in the hope of borrowing money for a Christmas feast. The answer, of course, had been no.
But when I have my own money—
She interrupted that train of thought. It would do her no good to focus on the future just yet. Her present was what caused the trouble.
And I still haven’t decided on whether I’ll go to the Duke’s house tonight.
No, what am I saying? Of course, I have decided! I am not going!
Tightening her jaw, Thalia shouldered open the old wooden kitchen door, the one that swelled and stuck in the summer and shrank in the cold weather, letting in drafts. She stepped out into the sunshiny courtyard, where a flock of children of all ages ran and scrambled around, talking and laughing.
Hopscotch squares were roughly chalked across the uneven paving stones. A pair of raggedy jumping ropes had been commandeered by a group of girls. In the corner, a wide old tree grew, its branches perfect for climbing.
In fact, there was a trio of children around the tree at that moment.
Two of them perched in the upper branches: a lanky blond boy of about nine by the name of Nicholas, and a feisty seven-year-old girl named Sophia.
She had only recently been brought to the orphanage, her parents having been wiped out by a fever.
Thalia didn’t know Nicholas’s story or that of the other boy sitting at the base of the tree.
He was the one who looked up first, tearing his gaze away from his book. He broke into a grin when he saw her, waving madly.
“Lady Thalia!” he cried delightedly, carefully marking his place before scrambling over to her.
The other two, up in the tree, perked up at her name and began clambering down.
“Careful, you two!” Thalia cried, pointing at them. “Don’t you dare fall!”
The little boy reached her first. At ten years old, Alex was the oldest of the three, but he had always been the quietest. He stood a little way off, beaming at her.
The other children in the courtyard spotted her and loped over, all speaking over each other.
“Lady Thalia, I began to read that book you lent me and…”
“… new marble! Here, look at it!”
“Matron says that I might have a job in the kitchen one day. She…”
“… jumping rope! Please do join us, Lady Thalia.”