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Morgan lifted the lid and set it aside. Within was a dirty white blanket, knit in a tight weave with an embroidered lamb in the corner. “You were wrapped in this. And there was a letter, but we don’t have it any longer.”
“Do you know what it said?” Joan asked, lifting the blanket from the box and holding it. The fabric was a thick wool, slightly stretchy against her skin as she rubbed her fingers over it.
“All I know is that the letter was in French, which was distinctive since we’d been at war with Napoleon. Maybe your mother was escaping the war, only to be caught up in it here as well? Maybe she was a British sympathizer. I suppose we will never know. The letter was short, simply a plea to have you cared for.”
“At least she wanted me cared for.” Joan sighed. “I suppose that’s more than some ever have.”
“It is indeed, and from that we can deduce that she loved you and wanted something better for you than she could give.”
“All good qualities to have in a mother, even one I never knew.”
“And all good qualities she likely passed on to you,” Morgan added, and in a rare show of affection, gave her an awkward side hug.
Joan leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment. “Thank you, I know this isn’t easy for you either.”
“No, it’s not. But there’s one more thing.” He sighed and stepped back. “At dinner the other night with Rowles, you mentioned a name you were searching for at the Foundling Hospital.”
“Yes.” Joan nodded. “Agneau.”
“Lamb,” he translated. “The name Agneau, or something quite similar was pinned to your blanket when they found you on the church steps.”
“So that might bemyfamily name?” Joan asked, shocked.
“It’s possible, but it could also be a decoy since it’s a common surname. I’m not sure, but I thought you should know,” Morgan added.
Joan nodded. “Thank you.” She sucked on the corner of her lip as she absentmindedly clutched the blanket to her chest. “Morgan, you said I was found at a church, and I realize I haven’t asked how Mother and Father even found out about me.”
Morgan’s shoulders relaxed. “Ah, that is a story I do know.” He had a relieved expression. “Come, sit down with me.” He pointed to a pair of rocking chairs in the corner by a bookshelf.
“Mother couldn’t have any more children, not after Percy and I were born. The doctors said it was a miracle she survived our birthing at all.” Morgan frowned as he stared at his folded hands. “I’ll admit I’ve carried years of guilt over that, but at the same time, it was that very reason that Mother and Father adopted you, so I couldn’t feel too guilty. I was far too happy to have you…most times.” He winked.
“I did enjoy pestering you.”
“Did? As in past tense? You still enjoy it, and far too much so.”
“This is true and not going to change. I’m utterly unapologetic about it.” She cast him a saucy grin.
“Nonetheless, they never gave up wanting more children, and one spring, Father decided to skip the season. There wasn’t much need for him in London, so we stayed in our estate in West Sussex, near Chichester.”
“Oh! I love that place. Wait, is that why we didn’t go there often? Were Mother and Father concerned that the vicar would somehow let the secret out?”
Morgan nodded. “They were quite certain it wouldn’t be divulged, but rather than test that theory, they decided that if you were out of sight, you were equally out of mind.”
“I see. Continue, please?”
“Well.” He leaned back in the chair and rocked a few times. “The Church of the Holy Trinity had finished their evening service, and as the vicar was about to close the doors, he heard a cry. In the bustle of people leaving the service, no one had noticed someone leave a baby in a basket to the side of the front entrance. The vicar took you in and read the note attached to your blanket.”
“How old was I?” Joan asked.
“I’m no expert, and I was young myself, but I think quite new. A week, maybe?”
“I was so small,” Joan added, unable to imagine being all along and so young.
Morgan continued, “The note requested you be brought to Thomas Coram’s Foundling Hospital, but it so happened that the vicar had met with Mother a week earlier. She’d asked for him to pray for her to have more children. It was a brave step for her, but that tells you her desperation. Father didn’t even know she’d made such a request.”
“So the vicar contacted Mother?”
“Yes, and it didn’t take more than moment for Father to be completely in agreement. They picked you up that night when it was dark, in a hired hack so no one would suspect. The vicar took care of the paperwork, and it was done.”
