Corinne shrugged. “Sometimes it’s months later, and babes tend to change quickly.”
“Ah, I see. Do…do the mothers usually come back for their children?” Miss Bronson asked.
Corinne gave her head a slow shake. “No. Oh, on rare occasions it happens, but if a woman has given her baby to the Foundling Hospital, she’s in dire straits. Those don’t often change.”
Joan’s heart pinched at the thought of the sacrifice of the mothers.
“We have fewer orphans than we used to, I’m told. Back seventy-five years ago or so, they had an ‘indiscriminate admission’ policy, and babies and children were taken in by droves. Though I can’t say if fewer admissions are a pity or a blessing. So many often end up as thieves on the streets if they don’t wind up here.” Corinne sighed. “We help as many as we can.”
“It’s the Lord’s work.” Miss Bronson nodded, her words empathic.
“Indeed it is,” Corinne agreed. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you the chapel where famous George Frideric Handel held a concert to raise money for the hospital.”
Joan’s brows rose. “I wasn’t aware.”
“It was a while ago…before you were born, I’d wager,” Corinne replied. “After you’ve seen the chapel, I’ll introduce you to the older girls, the ones you’ll be assisting.”
Miss Bronson and Joan shared a look of excitement, and Joan couldn’t suppress her amusement. They traveled through the other courtyard and into a modest chapel, with its glass windows and wooden pews lining the stone aisle. Corinne’s voice echoed softly, and Joan imagined the sound of voices raised in chorus to one of Handel’s masterpieces. It would be heavenly to experience.
Shortly after that, Corinne led them to a small parlor-like room on the other side of the interior courtyard. Joan noted the way the young ladies, all several years younger than her, sat up straighter upon their entrance. Their keen expressions collectively darted between Corinne and herself, then took in Miss Bronson.
“Ladies, we have the great blessing of having two gentlewomen paying us a visit. Please stand and introduce yourselves.”
By turns, each young lady curtsied prettily and lowered her eyes while giving her Christian name. Joan noted that the names were all Biblical in origin.
She stepped forward and nodded her approval. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, all of you.”
“Indeed,” Miss Bronson chimed in.
“We are happy to be here and hope to be of assistance to you in any way you need.”
“These are proper ladies who will be coaching you on proper etiquette and helping you perfect the attributes that may lead you to a position in a household.”
A few anxious stares darted to Joan, and she read the hope, the desperation in them. A weight settled on her at the realization thatshewas the one offering hope; hope that they could find a way of supporting themselves by being a scullery maid or housemaid. That was their great hope. She, by birth, was afforded so much.
And they, by birth, were afforded so little.
“I will not only help, but if you strive to learn well and take my instruction to heart, I’ll also give my personal recommendation to whomever needs it for a potential employer,” Joan said with feeling.
A few of the girls gasped, then burst into giggles as if given a great gift.
“As will I,” Miss Bronson added.
“Now, are we going to work hard for these generous ladies?” Corinne asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” The young ladies nodded in unison and gave hearty affirmations.
Corinne’s expression was one of approval as she turned to Joan. “Then, where shall we begin?”
Fifteen
The transition of his mother to her new lodgings went seamlessly, according to the nurse’s report. Rowles couldn’t resist a deep sigh of relief and resolved to pay her a visit that evening. As he took the stairs to the second floor, he paused at the top and turned toward the hall that had, for so many years, led to his mother’s chambers. The house was quieter now, with fewer servants bustling about or nurses quietly moving up and down the hall in efforts to care for their patient. It was sobering, and the house felt empty in a way he hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t as if he’d spent much time with his mother on her sickbed, and for obvious reasons; however, he hadknownshe was near. And that made a difference.
One that he hadn’t noticed till it was startlingly absent.
All the more reason to visit her in her new lodgings. With a quick prayer for assistance from the Almighty with his planned visit, Rowles quickly washed up in his rooms, then called for his carriage to be brought around. The arranged house wasn’t a far drive, and he could take in the air and walk, but he decided the privacy of a carriage was most apt.
In case things did go badly.