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Lord Montegomery had left his doorstep for the street, swinging his cane as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Vivianna supposed he hadn’t. Well, that was about to change. As she watched, he climbed into his carriage, and soon the vehicle rattled around the square and out in a southerly direction.
Vivianna picked up her skirts and ran. Her hackney cab was waiting for her on the other side of Berkeley Square, hidden by the central gardens.
She wrenched open the door and sprang inside.
“Follow the black carriage!” she called, and was flung back against the worn squabs as the driver enthusiastically obliged.
Are you certain this is appropriate behavior for a young lady? Would it not be more sensible if you came back in the morning and left your visiting card? Lady Greentree’s softly modulated voice sounded in her head.
Perhaps, she acknowledged, under other circumstances her actions would be considered impetuous and a little improper, but these were desperate times. She must speak with this man, convince him to change his mind and save the Shelter for Poor Orphans. She could not see the hard work of so many, the happiness of so many more, come to nothing because of the spoiled and rich Lord Montegomery.
Yes, my dear, that is all very well and fine, but are you sure you are not enjoying your adventure just a little bit more than necessary?
Vivianna thought it better to ignore that question.
The hackney was rattling along nicely to wherever they were going. Her righteous anger gave way to a new spurt of anxiety. She hoped his destination was not Seven Dials or St. Giles’s, or one of the other dangerous areas of London. Even though she had been in the city for such a brief time, she had seen the overcrowding and smelled the horrid odors.
She hoped that Lord Montegomery really was going to one of his clubs, or even to one of the gentlemen’s gaming houses or rowdy drinking dens to be found in the capital. A respectable lady like herself may not be exactly welcome in the last two, but with a crowd about her she would feel safe enough, and if she kept her mouth closed and her eyes down, surely she should not attract too much unwanted attention.
The hackney’s wheels rumbled over a cobbled section and turned another corner. An omnibus, full of passengers even at this time of night, groaned by and the two drivers exchanged shouts she found incomprehensible. Just as well, perhaps. Vivianna’s thoughts turned inward once again, settling on Miss Susan and Miss Greta Beatty and their frantic letter. The words seemed literally burned into her brain.
Dearest Miss Greentree,
As our most respected and beloved friend, and our supporter from the very beginning, we write once more to beg for your assistance. Awful news! We have just heard that in nine weeks our Shelter for Poor Orphans is to be taken from us. Demolished! Please, Miss Greentree, there is no time to be lost! Come to London as soon as you may. Do make haste if you would see this dreadful wrong made right before it is too late….
The rest of the letter had been almost illegible. That the gentle and practical Miss Susan and Miss Greta should be driven to write such wild prose could only mean that the matter was very serious indeed. It was impossible for Vivianna to deny them her help and support, despite the fact that she could hardly credit what she was reading. The Shelter for Poor Orphans to be torn down in nine weeks?
She would not allow it.
The hackney rattled again, turning into a broader and certainly more sober street, lit by soft gaslights. Vivianna closed her eyes. The Shelter for Poor Orphans had been her triumph, a dream she had long held close to her heart, and which had finally been brought to fruition by hard work and much stubborn determination.
The shelter was a place for abandoned children, those poor mites who had not been lucky enough to have a
darling Lady Greentree come to their aid. It was a place where they could be cared for, fed, and given an education. It had been Vivianna’s dream alone, until Miss Susan and Miss Greta had come to Yorkshire to contribute to a group of lectures at the annual Hungry Children’s Dinner. The talk given by the two sisters had riveted her. They had spoken so passionately, they had been so heartfelt in their determination to help these orphaned and abandoned children. Vivianna realized at that moment that their dream was also hers.
The following day they met over tea at a respectable hotel and found that they did indeed share a desire to save those children unable to save themselves. The two sisters had inherited a bequest from a rich uncle, and they meant to put it to good use. Vivianna had no money in her own right, but Lady Greentree was comfortably wealthy, and generous, and she had entrée into some of northern England’s most influential families.
Their partnership was born.
The Beatty sisters and Vivianna had decided upon London as the best place for their Shelter for Poor Orphans. “London,” said Susan Beatty, “is where there is the most desperate need.” Vivianna had never been to London, but she saw the less salubrious parts of the city starkly through the eyes of her new friends.
The Shelter for Poor Orphans took shape.
They found a building, and though in poor condition, it had far exceeded their hopes. Called Candlewood, it was part of an old estate, falling down from lack of funds, and stood some miles to the north of the city. Indeed, it was almost in the country, and there was plenty of room for a garden to grow vegetables, and for long walks in the adjoining woods. In no time at all it was the home to twenty-five needy children, and the women had plans to take in many, many more.
And then that unfeeling wretch threatened to ruin everything.
Vivianna had known as soon as she read the letter that she could not let that happen. She was not the sort of woman to stand by and watch her dream be destroyed. She would come to London to take whatever action was necessary.
Lady Greentree, though worried and concerned at her going, had learned long ago that once Vivianna committed herself to something this passionately, there was little anyone could say or do to stop her. Or even to slow her down. Vivianna did not care for the strictures that society tried to place upon her, a young spinster. She believed there were more important things to life than adhering to so many—to her mind—pointless rules.
“I will not be made helpless just because I am a woman,” she had told Lady Greentree. “I am going to London to save the shelter.”
Her sister Marietta had begged to be allowed to come, too, but for less noble reasons—“To see the sights and the shops, Vivianna!”—while Francesca, the youngest, had declared that nothing, not even the sights of London, would ever entice her away from her beloved moors. Vivianna promised to write to them when she reached London, to tell them how long she was staying.
So she and Lil, her maid, took the mail coach for the Great Northern Road, and London.
Before they left, Lady Greentree spoke frankly to her.
