Page 65 of My Dearest Duke

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Joan answered with confidence. “I’m sure you’ll find us equal to any task, Corinne.”

“Yes. How shall we begin?” Miss Bronson inquired.

Corinne led them into the building and paused at the hall. “I’ll need one lady to work with the girls who have interviews, and I have some research to do on a potential family member for a young lady.”

“I’m happy to do any research,” Joan offered.

“Then I shall help with the interview preparations,” Miss Bronson volunteered.

“Excellent.” Corinne clapped once. “Joan, could you meet me in the library? I’ll first take Miss Bronson to the parlor where the young ladies are waiting. I’ll meet with you shortly.”

“Of course.” Joan answered as the other two made their way down the hall toward one of the hospital’s parlors.

Joan started toward the library. The doors were open and welcoming, so she stepped through and studied the shelves of registers, ledgers, maps, and a section with books on various topics. She took a seat at a circular table and looked to the tomes lining the shelves beside her.

The names were all in alphabetic order, listing all the shires of England: Bedfordshire, Berkshire, Buckinghamshire, Cambridgeshire…

“Thank you for waiting,” Corinne said as she entered.

“Of course,” Joan replied. “I was looking at the shire registry. Is that geographical?”

Corinne shook her head. “No, we keep a record of the foundlings taken in from each location, should a next of kin come looking.”

“Oh, I see.”

“That’s why we have some registries smaller than others. Bath, for example, is small, but if you were to look at the one for Middlesex, it is several volumes.” She moved to point to the middle of the bookshelf. “In fact, we started to divide it into the town areas of London rather than the shire.”

“Makes sense.” Joan nodded. “How far back to your records go?”

“To the very beginning. Our organization is something we’ve worked hard to keep and continue.” Corinne’s expression reflected humble pride.

“And one of the foundlings might have a connection to another in the registry?” Joan asked, referring to what Corinne had said initially.

“Yes. It’s a simple task but it can be time-consuming. I need to check the name of each new foundling, making sure it’s not connected to another. If the name is that of a younger sibling to a current foundling, we want to know that. If there’s a family connection, we’d like to make it known.”

“I understand.” Joan’s appreciation for the hospital’s work grew as she regarded the scope of books carefully maintained to keep record of each orphan’s origin.

“Here’s the name. I believe you should start by looking in the Bath registry, beginning about fifteen to twenty years back.”

Joan took the scrap of paper Corinne handed her. “L. Agneau.”

“I’ll be back to check on your progress a little later. If you need anything, send a nurse or maid in search of me. I truly appreciate your help.”

“Of course.” Joan stood, watching Corinne leave.

Then she turned to the high and fat bookshelves and ran her fingers along the leatherbound spines, reading the names till she came to “Somerset.”

She took the first ledger and set it on the table, carefully unwinding the leather strap. She opened the book to read the first date listed.

Too old.

She rewound the leather strap, took it back to its original place, and selected the next book.

Following the same procedure, she opened the first page and beamed in triumph. She read through the dates till she neared twenty or so years ago and began looking at the names. Organized by year, not by last name. Now she understood why Corinne said it would be a time-consuming project. Each line carried a name, a year, and a date, followed by a new name and the date accepted by the hospital. Most names carried a small-print family name in the margin. Joan assumed that was because orphans were sent out to live with families in the country till they were older. The small-print name must be that of the family the orphan lived with.

A half hour later, she stretched and blinked, giving her strained eyes a moment to adjust. Taking a deep breath, she returned to reading.

An hour later, she found the name.


Tags: Kristin Vayden Historical