Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
“So, this is it,” Elspeth declared, rubbing her hands together. “What do ye think, Yer Grace?”
She stood before the imposing, soot-stained facade of St. Jude’s Orphanage, filled with a sense of trepidation and grim determination.
Beside her, Hugo shifted impatiently, his expression a mixture of disdain and resignation. He had been surprisingly easy to convince to accompany her, though his presence felt more like that of a grim guardian than a supportive companion.
“Are you quite certain this is necessary, Lady Inverhall?” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated building as he kicked a rock.
“Surely a donation, discreetly delivered after the party’s conclusion, would suffice.
There is no need to… immerse oneself in such squalor.
I am sure the other ladies in this contest do not stoop to such levels, nor do such research. ”
Elspeth shot him a sharp look. “How can one truly help a charity without understanding its needs, Yer Grace? A real assessment of what has to be done, so I can convey their plight.”
“Like you did for the people at Inverhall?”
“Aye! That is exactly right. How can I organize an event for these children if I daenae ken them? Do they nae deserve the same decency as other folk with more favorable circumstances? I ken what it is like to be down on one’s luck.”
She took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The interior was dim, smelling faintly of old wood and damp, hitting her in the nose as she walked in.
“You must be Lady Inverhall,” a harried-looking matron greeted. “Oh my goodness, and Your Grace!”
She was clearly shaken not just by the sudden appearance of Lady Inverhall, but also by the appearance of a duke. Elspeth, however, quickly put her at ease, her genuine warmth cutting through the woman’s apprehension.
“Aye, it is I,” she said with a warm smile. “We are here to take a tour of the grounds so I can paint an accurate picture of the important work ye do here.”
“Very well, My Lady.” The matron gave a small smile. “And Your Grace. Right this way.”
“Please, can ye remind me of yer name?” Elspeth asked thoughtfully.
“I am Miss Caruthers, my lady.”
“Thank ye, Miss Caruthers.”
Soon, they were being led through narrow corridors to a large, overheated room where a dozen or so boys, ranging from five to twelve years old, were attempting to play with a worn wooden top.
“Come on, John!” the littlest of the lot shouted to a blonde-haired boy with bright green eyes. “You can do it!”
“Yeah, John!” the others shouted. “Spin it! Spin it! Spin it!”
The moment Elspeth stepped into the room, the cacophony of shouts and scuffles ceased. A dozen pairs of wide, curious eyes swiveled toward her.
Hugo, standing stiffly behind her, seemed to tense under their scrutiny. Elspeth attributed that to his lack of siblings and interactions with children in general. She figured that few dukes had such an experience.
“Good morning, lads,” she greeted, her voice soft and friendly, devoid of any condescension or pretense. She knelt down, bringing herself to their eye level. “Me name is Elspeth, and this is the Duke of Arrowfell. Ye can address him as Yer Grace for short—I find it is easier.”
A brown-eyed small boy, no older than seven, piped up, “Are ye a real lady? With a fancy hat and all that? Like the ones we read about in the stories?”
Elspeth chuckled. “I am a lady, aye. And sometimes I wear a fancy hat, but nae when I can help it. I fear me life isnae terribly excitin’, but I am hopin’ ye can change that for me.”
“Oy, she is from Scotland!” one boy yelled from the back as he shuffled closer. “I have never met someone from Scotland before! Is it true that everything is green, and it is very cold?”
“Aye, it is!” Elspeth confirmed with a laugh.
Another boy, older and more wary, eyed Hugo up and down before whispering, “Is he the King?”
“Oh no, he isnae the King,” Elspeth said, glancing back at Hugo, who looked distinctly uncomfortable. “He is a duke, which is almost as important. And doubly as serious.”
To Hugo’s obvious discomfort, Elspeth immediately fell into easy conversation with the children as they walked around the room.
“So, what are yer favorite games?” she asked, her voice gentle. “I see that ye enjoy spinnin’ that top!”
“We also play a game called Hide the Pebble,” a young boy said as he approached her. “You get one pebble and have to hide it from everyone else. The last one to find it wins. We all have jars in our rooms where we keep track of who has the most!”
“That sounds terribly competitive but very fun,” Elspeth remarked. “What is yer name, lad?”
“My name is Timothy! And John came up with the game; he always comes up with the best games.”
“And what is yer favorite thing to do, John?” Elspeth asked, looking at John as he approached her as well, a wide smile on his face.
“I like drawin’,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “I like all the other games we keep on makin’ up and playin’, but I really love drawin’. But we only have small bits of charcoal, not paint or anythin’ like that.”
Elspeth nodded thoughtfully, her mind already turning over possibilities for the charity event.
Surely we can get these boys some proper supplies.
A boisterous boy named George, who had been wrestling with another boy moments ago, puffed out his chest.
“I am the best at catchin’ frogs in the mud!” he declared proudly. “John can draw and do all the other cool stuff because he is older, but I am the best frog catcher on this side of the Thames!”
Elspeth’s eyes twinkled. “I am certain ye are. What about yer favorite stories then, boys? Do you have a favorite?”
“Oh yes, Lady Elspeth! The one about the boy who steals the giant’s magic beans!” Thomas, a small boy with an endless supply of energy, gushed. “And the giant has a feast!”
Elspeth smiled. “Ah, Jack and the Beanstalk. A classic. But I have always been intrigued by tales of brave knights, fairies, monsters, and dragons. What about ye, Yer Grace?” she asked, turning to Hugo, who looked distinctly out of place.
“I am partial to history. That would be accounts of the past,” he replied with a loud cough that echoed through the room awkwardly.
A collective groan rippled through the children, and Thomas, brave as ever, shouted, “That sounds so boring!”
The other boys giggled.
“Well, I think that history can be very excitin’,” Elspeth said, casting a playful look at Hugo, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else. “It is just told poorly sometimes. Maybe we can work on rewritin’ stories of the past to make them more interestin’, like a play!”
“Now that is a grand idea,” Miss Caruthers noted as she walked toward them, clapping softly.
They are unruly, aye, but also hilarious and fiercely loyal to one another. I am glad I am helpin’ these boys, and together we will win.
“Before I leave, I want ye to make a list of the items the lads in this room need most,” Elspeth said to Miss Caruthers.
“Of course,” she said with a small nod. “It is quite lengthy, so I will only include the basics. Your kindness is appreciated, My Lady.”
“No!” Elspeth protested. “Include everything. We will do our best to make sure that the children’s needs are met as well as any other children we dinnae have the pleasure of meetin’ today.”
“Of course, My Lady,” Miss Caruthers said, before going to fetch a paper and quill.
Elspeth and Hugo were led down the corridor by one of the boys as they awaited the list at the entrance.
“What is yer name?” Elspeth asked the boy, who must have been eleven or so.
“Hugo,” he answered in a small voice.
“Well, would ye believe that?” Elspeth gave a wry smile. “Daenae tell anyone else, but His Grace’s name is also Hugo!”
“Oh my goodness, My Lady! You must be joking!
“I am not! Tell him,” Elspeth said, turning to Hugo.
“Yes, erm, I am Hugo Blythe, the Duke of Arrowfell. But yes, I was once a boy just like you. And they called me Hugo.”
“Wait until the other boys hear this!” the boy squealed as he hurried off, leaving them by the entrance.
Elspeth watched Hugo, waiting for a warmth that never quite rose to his eyes.
“I want to include the children in the charity event,” she declared several days later at the townhouse, as she explained her plans to the horrified Dowager Duchess.
Hugo, present for the meeting, merely raised an eyebrow from the corner, as if to say, I told you so.
“Include them?” the Dowager Duchess repeated, her voice a strangled gasp. “Elspeth, are you quite mad? These are children. Unruly, unpolished children. This is a prestigious event, not a village fair! You are playing with fire, my girl! Your opportunity here is—”
“They are the very reason we are holdin’ this event, Yer Grace,” Elspeth countered, her chin set stubbornly.
“How can we raise money for them if they are excluded from the very affair meant to benefit them? It would be hypocritical. Besides,” she added, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “they are rather charmin’ when ye get to ken them.
And quite resourceful. Ask yer grandson—they have visited this townhouse just this afternoon. ”
The Dowager Duchess looked as though she might faint as she clutched her fan in her hand, fluttering it wildly to bring cool air to her face.
“Resourceful? My dear, they are a recipe for disaster! The ton will be scandalized! I can appreciate your reason for doing so, but it is social suicide! Wait a minute, did you say they are here?”
Just then, a small, wet thwack echoed through the elegant parlor. A tiny green frog leaped out of nowhere and landed squarely on the Dowager Duchess’s pristine lace shawl. Another hopped across the polished floor, leaving tracks of wet sludge in its wake.
The Dowager Duchess shrieked as she jumped to her feet, scattering papers. “Frogs! Good heavens! Where did these creatures come from? It is an infestation! No, a sign from God that this is not the right way to organize the party!”