“But there isn’t,” Lady Enid asserted. “For many of them, working at a workhouse is their only option.”
“What is wrong with a workhouse?” Lord Everton asked.
“It is a terrible place and people die all the time from the harsh work conditions and lack of food,” Lady Enid said.
Lord Everton looked unimpressed. “Then they could move to the countryside and work in the fields.”
“How would they travel to find work?” Lady Enid asked. “They can’t afford to pay for a mail coach.”
“They should work harder then,” Lord Everton snapped.
“Father, with all due respect, you know not what you are speaking of,” Lady Enid said.
Lord Everton dropped his fork onto his plate and glared at his daughter. “How dare you,” he growled. “You are just an insolent child.”
Greydon had just about enough of Lord Everton and his pretentious attitude. He needed to say something and stand up for Lady Enid. She wasn’t wrong, after all. He had no doubt that she would have died at the workhouse had she stayed longer. Most people did.
He wiped the sides of his mouth with his white linen napkin and said, “Lady Enid is right. I have spent a fair share of my time in the rookeries, and it is not for the faint of heart. The things I have seen are not fit to share over a dinner table.”
“Why do you frequent the rookeries?” Lord Everton asked.
“I wanted to see if the newssheets gave an accurate portrayal of what life was like in the rookeries,” Greydon said.
“What did you discover?” Rosamond asked from across the table.
“It is far worse than what is being written about,” Greydon replied. “The blackened homes are unfit for living, many with decaying foundations and broken windows. The rooms are so small and filthy that the air itself seems tainted. There are poles that are thrust out from the window that hold threadbare linens to dry.”
“If that is the case, why do they live in such squalor?” Lord Everton asked.
“They have little choice in the matter,” Greydon replied. “It is their way of life and they have no way out of it.”
“That is not my concern,” Lord Everton said.
Lady Enid leaned forward in her seat. “It should be all of our concerns, especially yours. You can enact real change in the House of Lords.”
“You are mistaken,” Lord Everton responded. “Lord Ashington has made it a crusade of his to provide access to clean water for the poor, but he does not have the support of the other lords. It is just a waste of time to advocate for the poor.”
“I disagree,” Lady Enid said.
“I will not trade the clout I have in Parliament to help the poor,” Lord Everton declared with a swipe of his hand.
In a commanding voice, Greydon said, “But I will.” He had been searching for a purpose. Perhaps he had found one. He could be an advocate for the poor and try to turn the hearts of the other lords to the plights of people that were suffering in the rookeries.
He had been there and seen what it was truly like. He had seen the desperation in the men and women’s eyes and the frail bodies of the children that were begging on the street. He knew all too well of the deplorable conditions that the people worked in.
“I know you mean well, but wait until you become a peer,” Lord Everton counseled. “You will see how difficult it is to get a bill passed.”
Greydon sat back in the chair. “I do not back down from a fight.”
Lady Enid smiled, and it was one that reached her eyes, causing the room to feel brighter as a result of it. “I find that admirable, my lord.”
“Do not praise me since I have yet to start,” Greydon responded.
“But I know what kind of man you are and I do believe you will bring around real change,” Lady Enid said.
Finding himself curious, Greydon asked, “What kind of man do you think I am?”
“A good man, with a good heart,” Lady Enid replied, decisively.
