Chapter Nine
W ith Val gone, Ariadne grew bored, especially after another day was spent at the shoemaker’s. The slippers she tried on seemed flimsy at best, and her fears of them falling apart were seconded when she asked about how long they would last.
“A night of dancing in a pair, my lady, and you’ll need another pair,” joked the clerk, causing her further distress. The waste of money being spent on her come-out continued to haunt her, yet she knew the various businesses she and Mama were now patronizing depended upon the ton wishing to look fashionable to earn their livelihood.
One good thing that came out of today’s visit was a new pair of boots. Since she rode and walked so much in the country, she was not opposed to purchasing a new pair. That, however, led Mama to lament that they had not put in an order for a riding habit.
“I have two riding habits in decent shape, Mama,” Ariadne reminded her mother. “I see no need to replace either of them.”
“But they are not of this year’s designs, Child,” Mama said firmly, once again affirming how her parents disregarded the fact that she was a grown woman and could make a simple decision about a riding habit.
She knew any protests would land upon deaf ears, and they stopped by Madame Laurent’s shop again to place an order for a new riding habit. All the way home, Mama talked about how the possibility of going riding with a gentleman in Hyde Park meant that Ariadne must be prepared and look her best. She kept silent, knowing if she mentioned how strenuous riding could be and how hot and sweaty she would become riding in London in the heat might cause her mother to forbid riding at all. As soon as Val and Con were back in town, she intended to have them take her riding. As of now, she had no one to go with her, which meant she was not allowed to go at all.
The next day, Mama left the townhouse. She would be spending her entire day with Madame Laurent again, seeing to her own wardrobe needs for the Season. Ariadne decided to take this opportunity to leave the house with Tally.
As they walked along the pavement, the maid asked, “Where are we going, my lady?”
“St. George’s in Hanover Square.”
The church was where her parents worshipped on Sundays, and Ariadne had heard it was the most popular place for members of Polite Society to hold their weddings. While she had only attended services there once during her previous visit to town many years ago, she thought the church far too grand for a wedding. In her mind, a wedding was an intimate affair. She did not want hundreds to attend the ceremony, most of them strangers to her. Her preference was to be wed in the Willowshire church, the nearest village to Millvale.
“Why are we going to church in the middle of the week, my lady?”
Patiently, she explained to Tally, “I want to see about helping with the poor. I have seen so many of them since we arrived in town. I thought if I spoke to someone at St. George’s, I could volunteer my time. Even some of my pin money.”
“You’ve a kind heart, my lady,” the maid told her. “But you won’t have time to do much once the Season starts.”
“Then I shall try to do something now.”
Not only was Ariadne determined to see what she could do to help immediately, but she fully intended to continue helping the poor once she wed. She would have to make that clear to any man who thought to be her future husband.
When they arrived, the first person she met was the sexton, who cared for the property and rang the bells for services. He directed her inside to the church’s office. Though the vicar was not in, his curate was. She introduced herself and asked if she could meet with him for a few minutes, making certain she mentioned she was the daughter of the Duke of Millbrooke.
The curate’s eyes lit up. “Why, of course, Lady Ariadne. Please, have a seat. What can we do for you?”
“I am interested in helping the poor, Mr. Rogers. They seem to be everywhere I look. I feel it is my Christian duty to help ease their suffering.”
He smiled benignly. “That is kind of you, my lady. You might not know that Parliament passed a series of acts many years ago for this very thing. Way back when the Tudors sat on the English throne. These laws make it the obligation of each parish to care for its poor. That includes the old and infirm. Orphans. Our parishioners pay a poor rate, a kind of tax, and that goes toward aiding the poor and orphans.”
The curate paused. “Your own father participates, doing his part, by paying this on behalf of himself and his entire family. So you see, my lady, it is unnecessary for you to do so.”
“But the poor are starving, Mr. Rogers. Their clothes are in tatters, mere rags. Many of the children I see are shoeless. They look scrawny and ill. Surely, I can do something myself. Volunteer my time, at the very least.”
A frown knit his brows together. “What you suggest is not appropriate for a duke’s daughter. Does His Grace know you are here?” His tone had turned stern.
She didn’t want to lie, and so Ariadne said, “Papa knows my views regarding the poor. I have made them perfectly clear to him.” She paused. “I want to help, Mr. Rogers.”
He cleared his throat. “I am going to be blunt, my lady. The rookeries are no place for you or any member of Polite Society. They teem with gambling. Prostitution. Theft. Raging alcoholics who would tear a pretty thing like you to shreds.”
She gasped.
“It is a cruel world, my lady,” the curate continued. “You seem determined to me, however. The best I can do is send you to Miss Crimmins. She is the head of the orphanage St. George’s sends funds to each quarter. Perhaps after speaking with her, you will see your errand of mercy is fruitless.”
He took a pencil and scribbled an address on a piece of parchment and handed it to her. “Here. You can find Miss Crimmins at this address. I suggest you have an escort, however. It is in a rough part of town.”
Rising, she held her head high. “Thank you, Mr. Rogers,” she said curtly. “Come along, Tally.”
They left the parish office, with Tally saying, “Don’t get any wild ideas, my lady. You need to listen to that man. He knows what he’s talking about.”
Ariadne halted. “Then how are things ever going to change if no one does anything about them?”
A stubborn look came into Tally’s eyes. “You heard him. His Grace pays the church, and they take that money and give it to the poor.”
Her own jaw set stubbornly. “I can help on my own. I can lend a helping hand.”
“Their Graces will lock you in your room and won’t let you out until the Season begins if they learn of this foolishness,” her maid declared.
Her eyes narrowed. “Then they will not need to hear of it.”
“My lady, I’m begging you not to do this.”
“And I am going to do it with or without you, Tally. Wouldn’t it be better if you came along to supervise me? It is not as if I am marching into a gambling den or tavern. I want to help motherless children. Is that so wrong?”
Tally crossed her arms. “I’ll go. To keep you out of trouble. And I hope I can do that.”
“Thank you. For accompanying me. For not telling Mama or Papa.”
“I should. If they find out, I’ll be sacked for sure.”
“They won’t,” she promised. “And you know you are already coming with me when I go to a new household.” She looked around. “We must take a hansom cab there. I have no idea how far this orphanage is, and I suppose walking might not be safe.”
“At least you have some sense,” Tally muttered, as Ariadne hailed a cab for them.
The driver gawked at her. “Are you sure this is where you wish to go, my lady?” he asked after she handed him the page with the address written on it.
“Yes. I am certain.”
As they drove, she saw the architecture of the buildings change. The streets grew more narrow and had more refuse. Foul smells filled the air.
When they arrived at the orphanage, she paid the cab driver and then asked, “Would you wait for us, sir? We will need to return to Mayfair once my business here is concluded.” When she saw his reluctance, she added, “I will pay you for your time while you wait.”
He scowled but said, “Be quick about it, my lady. This isn’t a part of town for the likes of you—or even me.”
“Thank you.”
She and Tally got out of the hansom cab and ventured inside the three-story building. They passed several boys, all dressed alike in a shirt and breeches. The clothes looked clean, even if they were too large for two of the children, and she was pleased to see all three wore shoes.
A thin, tall woman who looked to be in her late thirties stepped from a room. “May I help you?” she asked, assessing them.
“I am Lady Ariadne Worthington, daughter of the Duke of Millbrooke. This is Tally, my maid.”
The woman frowned at her. “What brings you to Oakbrooke Orphanage, Lady Ariadne? We don’t see any dukes—or their daughters—here.”
“I wish to volunteer my time to your orphanage, Miss...” She hesitated because the woman had yet to introduce herself.
“Miss Crimmins,” she said crisply. “I’m not sure we have need of your help.”
“May I see the orphanage, Miss Crimmins? It might give me an idea of what I could do to support you.”
“If you have money, we’ll take it. Otherwise, we don’t have need of you,” the woman said bluntly. “I have been in charge of Oakbrooke for five years now. We see the children are clothed and fed. Teach them how to read and write. Pray they’ll stay out of trouble.”
“I could help in teaching,” Ariadne said brightly. “I have always loved reading and writing. I could even teach history and geography.”
Miss Crimmins sniffed. “Those here don’t need to learn about kings and queens and wars, much less places they’ll never go. If you have a donation, my lady, make it. Otherwise, you can be on your way.”
Embarrassment caused her cheeks to redden. No one had ever dared speak to her so curtly. “I want to help, Miss Crimmins,” she implored.
“For how long?” the woman demanded, looking her up and down. “I’d say you’re on the verge of making your come-out.”
“I am.”
“Then you’ll be caught up in all those social activities, Lady Ariadne. You simply don’t have the time to be here on a daily basis, dealing with these children. Filling their heads with knowledge they’ll never use and hope for a better future, which would be cruel. Now, do you have a donation or not?”
She knew by the time she paid their driver, not much would be left. Rasing her chin, she said, “I will see that my father makes a generous donation to your orphanage, Miss Crimmins. Good day.”
Turning, she slipped her arm through Tally’s and stepped briskly from the building.
“I won’t say I told you so, my lady,” her maid said, sympathy in her eyes.
“I appreciate that,” Ariadne said, close to tears.
Fortunately, the driver had waited for them, and she gave him her address in Mayfair. She and Tally didn’t converse on the drive home. Ariadne couldn’t help but keep her gaze in her lap, unwilling to see the poverty surrounding her, knowing she could do nothing about it.
She had failed. Miserably. Humiliation filled her. And she would not be able to ask Papa for a donation. He would be furious with her for having gone to such a place. Not wanting to break her word to Miss Crimmins, though, she hoped that Val might help her contribute to the Oakbrooke Orphanage when he returned.
Was she destined to only be a pretty face in a pretty gown, marrying a nobleman and bearing his children? Or could she turn the rules of Polite Society upside down and find a gentleman willing to be more of a partner to her, one who would help her try to make a difference in the lives of a handful of those in poverty.
Ariadne would see when the Season began.