Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Clementine made her way down to The Haven women’s shelter several days later.
Her carriage was full to the brim with donations she had managed to acquire from her generous sisters.
Blankets, clothing, gloves, and shoes, everything she could get her hands on that was not too opulent for the shelter.
The wheels clattered over uneven cobbles, and a cool city breeze slipped through the carriage window, tinged with coal smoke and the scents of working London.
Thankfully, Ravensmere had approved her wish to help those less fortunate. As Rosalind had mentioned, the only condition was that she take a footman with her.
The carriage rolled to a stop before the shelter.
At the steps, she was greeted by Miss Linton.
Even in such modest surroundings, Miss Linton wore a welcoming smile.
Her optimistic manner brightened what might otherwise be a grim morning.
The entry smelled faintly of starch and soap, with a sharper thread of vinegar used for cleaning.
“We are so pleased you are here to help us, Lady Clementine.” Miss Linton gestured toward a small room used as the main office. “Please come, we shall have a chat before the day begins.”
Clementine followed, noticing how perfectly clean and organized the modest space was.
A rough, wooden desk and a plain chair stood ready.
Though unlike the elaborate, leather-clad chair behind Ravensmere’s desk or the floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with leather-bound books, this office, too, served its purpose.
“I am more than pleased to be here.” Clementine sat. “I hope I shall be of some use.”
“Oh, you will be a great help.” Miss Linton sat also.
“There is much to do each day. Cooking, cleaning. Some of the ladies are not well-versed in speaking to tradesmen, but with your background as a duke’s daughter, I am certain you are more than capable of ordering people about when needed.
I do not mean to sound crass, but we’re in need of someone who can state what we require and ensure the work is done properly. ”
“I am more than capable of that.” Clementine chuckled and removed her gloves, folding them neatly on her lap. “Where would you like me to start? I’m ready to get my hands dirty. Whatever is needed.”
“You are too kind, Lady Clementine, and we’re excited to have you here. It’s not often that we have a lady so highly placed in society who is willing to help. You are truly angelic.”
Clementine waved the compliment away. “I used to help in our village in Hampshire. It’s the least I can do, considering how privileged I am.
I am not unaware of how hard some women live in this world and how easy I’m allowed to navigate it.
” She paused. “And please, call me Clementine. No honorifics here. I do not wish to be treated any differently than anyone else helping here.”
“Very true and very kind of you to suggest, and please, in turn, call me Grace. Now, as for those who are volunteering here today, we have several people. Some are working in the kitchen. Others are sewing clothing and mending items that will be needed come the winter months. Perhaps that is something you could help with.”
“Indeed. I am no dressmaker, but I can sew well enough to help.”
“We have some women also under our care. I shall introduce you to them, so they know who you are. They can be a little quiet or a little coarse, but we remain understanding and helpful, never disparaging.”
“Of course.” Clementine wouldn’t dream of offending anyone who needed support.
She couldn’t imagine the troubles and turmoil some of these women lived through.
Empathy and a wave of protectiveness surged within her.
“Perhaps I could help them learn how to sew, or how to be a maid, any type of employment a great house may have. It may assist them in gaining a better chance of a respectable employment when they feel secure enough to leave.”
That is our aim, to guide them out of whatever their current trade is that puts them in danger, and settle them into positions that are safer and better paying.”
“I am willing to do whatever I can.”
Grace rose from her chair. “Come, I shall show you around the shelter. Your recommendation letter from Sister Maria from Hampshire mentioned how kind you are, and it seems she was right. I think you shall settle into our world here with ease.”
Clementine stood and followed Grace from the room, hoping that was true. She had to have some purpose. Not be just another debutante trying to marry the richest, handsomest, and highest-titled gentleman in London. How dull.
“Now, the building is modest. Rough and falling down in places, I should warn you, but it serves its purpose.”
“I am certain it does.” For the next hour, Clementine toured the shelter.
She met several volunteers, women not of her usual social sphere, some gentry or others from trade.
Voices drifted from a nearby room, and somewhere a kettle sang on a small iron hob.
By the end of the tour, she was certain she had made friends and would fit in perfectly well.
"If you’re willing," Grace said, "your footman may stand guard with our security if he wants to have an active role."
Clementine had not considered that, but it would certainly give him purpose instead of following her about all day, something she was certain he would tire of.
“I shall ask him and see if he’s willing.
I cannot guarantee he shall be, however.
I’m not sure what my brother-in-law has asked of him beyond keeping me safe.
If I’m in the building, I am perfectly safe, and he may be happy to stand guard. ”
“It may give him something to do.” Grace smiled.
“Now, if you are willing, we have several rooms upstairs that must be made up. In the evenings, we sometimes receive ladies who stumble in, in various states of disarray or alarm, and we must have beds ready. There is a chamber set aside for this purpose. A fresh jug of water and a bowl for washing for each bed, glassware, and a jug of water, should they be parched. It is a basic human requirement, and it’s enough to start. ”
“I would be more than willing to go make up the rooms. Show me where, and I shall begin at once.”
Several minutes after being shown where the linen press was located and where to find fresh water, glassware, jugs, and bowls, Clementine set to work.
The sheets were crisp and coarse against her fingers.
The faint scent of soap rose as she shook them out.
She had never made up a room before, and shamefully, it took her far longer than it ought.
She could only hope she would become more skilled the longer she worked here.
Making beds was not something she was swift at.
In fact, this was her first attempt. Folding the blankets had stumped her for far too long before she finally decided what worked best.
Standing in the doorway, she surveyed the room.
Four beds, neatly finished, each with a jug and bowl and a glass of water.
Pride warmed her chest, easing some of her earlier embarrassment.
She had accomplished something today. Her shoulders ached pleasantly from the unfamiliar work, and a small sense of satisfaction settled in.
This evening, when she stepped back into a different world, she would not feel so terribly guilty.
After finishing upstairs, Clementine headed downstairs, her stomach rumbling with hunger and a twinge of anticipation for luncheon. Just as she reached the last step, her heart skipped at the sudden ruckus in the foyer. Alarm flooded her as she saw a woman, supported by a gentleman, stumble inside.
For a moment, Clementine stared. The woman’s face was bloody and swollen. Even from where Clementine stood, it seemed several teeth were missing, and she had a long cut under one eye.
“Oh my.” Clementine went to her and clasped her hand, taking some of the weight and steering her toward a chair.
The woman slumped against the wall, clearly exhausted.
“You may let her go, sir.” She lifted the lady’s chin to examine her injuries more closely.
The man did not release the woman’s hands and continued to assist.
Clementine ignored his severe frown and the overbearing air that hung about him, but unease prickled inside her.
His boots were well-made. His coat was cut by an excellent tailor.
His jaw bore a day’s rough shadow, lending him a hard look.
Still, anxiety twisted within her—who was he, and why was he carrying a woman who had clearly been assaulted to the shelter?
Were they in danger from the man? Was he in control of the unfortunate woman?
“Who are you?” he asked, annoyance edging his tone, as Grace hurried into the foyer, joining them.
“I am a volunteer here, sir,” Clementine said. “Who are you, and what have you to do with this woman? She is in a very cruel state.”
He stepped back, brows lifting. “I brought her here. Is that not obvious?”
“It is obvious, sir. But is she in this condition because of you?”
Her footman moved to Clementine’s side. The large, burly fellow fixed the stranger with a guarded stare.
The gentleman looked the footman over as if he were dirt on his shoe and made a scoffing sound. “I do not like your tone, nor the implication. You ought to think better before you speak.”
Clementine held his gaze. Heat sparked in her chest, a righteous flare that steadied her voice. “I think it's best that you leave, sir. If you will not answer my question, I cannot guarantee this lady’s safety while you remain.”
“Lady Clementine,” Grace interjected, breathless from haste, “may I introduce Mr. William Beaufort. He is also a sort of volunteer, just like you. There is no reason to be frightened or wary of the gentleman.”
He shot Clementine a withering glance. “I do not strike women, if that is what you believed.” He crouched beside the poor creature and drew out a handkerchief, pressing it gently into her hand.
“You are in good hands now, May. Grace and the others will take care of you. Next time you are in trouble, do not try to manage it alone. Come and find me.”
The woman nodded and dabbed at her mouth. “Yes, Mr. Beaufort. I shall remember.”
“Good.” He nodded and rose, and without another word turned on his heel and strode out into the street. Cold air swept in as the door opened and shut, carrying the distant rattle of a passing cart.
Clementine pressed her lips together and looked back at the woman, forcing herself to focus on her duties. “We shall take her upstairs to the medical room. We can help her change and tend to the injuries she has suffered before settling her into bed,” Grace instructed.
Clementine nodded and helped Grace assist the woman to stand.
Having never seen a face so battered, she marveled that the lady could get to her feet, nevertheless anything else.
She was sure that if she had been beaten so badly, she would not ever recover.
How strong this poor, unfortunate woman must be.
Clementine took her hand. “Come now,” she said in a soothing voice.
“Let us help.” Her throat tightened, and she blinked hard, steadying her breath as the metallic tang of blood reached her.
No one deserved such treatment. Fate of birth, that was all it came down to sometimes. And what a cruel, fickle fate that was.
Resolve settled in her bones, solid as oak, to do as much as she could while in town this Season. If only she could help everyone, but at least today, she could help one.