“Yes, if one ismarried.” She emphasized the word. “But what if a woman is not? And has no prospect for marriage? What then? Is she relegated to work as a governess? Or working in a textile factory?”
“Aren’t men relegated to working in factories or on the docks? In shops or in other labor?”
“Yes, but…they have options. More so than women.”
“Indeed.”
“What I’m asking is, shouldn’t those options be universal?”
He nodded. “And what should be the qualifier?”
She met his eyes with an amused expression. “Intrinsic human value.”
“Well done, using my words to prove your point.” He offered a brief round of light applause.
“Thank you.” She gave a hitch to her shoulder. “Unfortunately, convincing you isn’t the same as creating a real change in our society.” She tilted her head to the left and studied him. “And…I don’t think I convinced you truly. You already believed what I was saying but helped me make a stronger argument for it.”
“It was a very persuasive argument,” he agreed. “But you are correct. It doesn’t change the reality of it all.”
Joan let out a small sigh. “The leader of my ladies’ society suggested I contact the Thomas Coram’s Foundling Hospital to help young ladies,” she confided, turning her attention to the fat oaks lining the path.
“Oh? It sounds as if that is a possible avenue to be a catalyst for change.”
“A small one.” She shrugged. “Is it terrible that I wanted to make more of a difference?” She met his look, a frown puckering her forehead.
He paused, studying her silently for a moment before he spoke. “It is making a difference, a large one, in the person’s life whom you assist.”
She sighed. “I’m aware, but nothing changes, not really—”
“Except for the one whom you help. That person’s life could change entirely.” He tipped his head. “Is it better to create a small change for society, or a monumental change for one person?”
Joan remained silent, her observation of him piercing and true as she seemed to consider his words.
“What of exponential change?” he asked, breaking the silence. “Have you considered that?”
“I’m not familiar.”
He motioned for them to walk again. “Follow me. I think it might be best if I showed you.”
Joan nodded and followed his lead down the path to the water’s edge. Rowles strode toward the still water, a duck quacking as it swam away from his presence, only to turn back a few feet away as if waiting for a bread crumb.
“I’ve nothing to offer you today,” he called to the duck, who shook his tail and swam off after a moment.
Rowles bent down by the shore and lifted a small pebble. Turning, he offered his hand to Joan. The grass was still damp from the morning’s dew, and he didn’t wish for her to slip.
She grasped his hand firmly, her touch sending a shock of awareness through his arm and into his chest, his heartbeat picking up speed as a result. Her hands were dainty, yet capable and firm. They were the hands of a woman who would use them to benefit and bless others, hands that were unafraid of challenges and obstacles. Hands that would change the world.
Hands that could change his world.
“Rowles?” Joan’s voice broke through his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he showed her the pebble in his hand.
“A pebble?”
“Indeed.”
She raised a brow in query.
“One pebble is small, clearly, and seems insignificant, but it is not the pebble, but the pebble’s effect that creates the change.” He tossed the pebble into the water. “Count the ripples.”