Niles glanced at her. “But you don’t believe that.”
“Heavens, no,” she said emphatically. “It’s hardly a child’s fault they were born into poverty. They’re denied opportunities from the start. How could they possibly be expected to rise above it without help?”
“I feel the same,” Niles said, his voice filled with conviction.
She nodded. “It’s refreshing to meet someone who shares that perspective. Most of the people I know are content to ignore such realities.”
“What first brought the workhouse to your attention?”
She shifted slightly on the bench to face him, her posture more animated. “I read an article in the newssheets. It paintedsuch a grim picture that I didn’t want to believe it was true. But when I visited one myself, I realized the reality was even worse than I had imagined.”
“I’ve toured a few workhouses myself,” Niles said grimly. “The conditions are appalling. They are cramped, unsanitary, and dehumanizing. People barely survive. That’s when I knew I had to act.”
Elsbeth glanced down at her hands, her expression troubled. “I once asked my father to help, to use his influence to make a difference. He dismissed me outright and told me to stop being nonsensical. He believed if the poor truly wanted to improve their lives, they would work harder.”
“Unfortunately, that is a general consensus amongst the members of Parliament,” Niles replied, his tone laced with frustration.
Elsbeth sighed deeply. “Perhaps we should change the subject. The weather, perhaps?”
Niles chuckled at her attempt to lighten the mood. “I have no interest in discussing the weather.”
Feigning offense, she teased, “Do you not like weather, my lord?”
A genuine laugh escaped him. “I think we’ve progressed past the point in our friendship where small talk about the weather is necessary.”
Her face softened. “I’m glad we’re friends.”
“As am I, Elsbeth.” And he meant it. Despite the complexities surrounding them, he had come to genuinely value her company. “What was your childhood like?”
The question brought a wistful smile to her lips. “It was idyllic, in its way. I grew up at our country estate, surrounded by gardens and rolling hills. My mother doted on me something fierce.”
“But not your father?” Niles probed.
She shook her head. “He was always busy in meetings,social engagements, and whatnot. I can count on one hand the number of times I truly spent time with him as a child.”
“That must have been hard for you.”
“It was familiar,” she corrected. “Not that he was absent from my life entirely. He made decisions, like hiring a governess for me. We became quite close until my mother abruptly dismissed her.”
“Dare I ask why?”
Elsbeth grew visibly tense. “Apparently, my father and the governess had grown… too close. When she began increasing, my mother refused to allow the scandal to tarnish our household.”
Niles tightened his grip on the reins. “Pardon me for saying so, but your father sounds like a cad.”
“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Elsbeth admitted. “He had many flaws, but at the end of the day, he was still my father. That’s all I know.”
“Are you close to your mother?”
Elsbeth pressed her lips together. “We used to be close, before she married Alfred. Things were different then. Simpler. But now… now she’s constantly frustrated with me. She can’t understand why I’m so insistent that Alfred isn’t the man she believes him to be. She dismisses my concerns, utterly convinced that I’m wrong.”
Niles leaned forward. “Has Alfred ever been unkind to you?”
“No,” Elsbeth replied. “And that’s part of the problem. He’s been nothing but kind to me, almost overly so, as if he’s trying to replace my father.”
“Has he ever said that?”
“Well, no,” she responded. “But why else would he act so… accommodating? It’s almost unnerving.”
