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“Yes, indeed. I recently had a note from a woman who had learned of my idea for a safe house. She was the sister of a woman who works in a millinery and was most grateful for someone who took an interest in unfortunate women’s plights. The poor woman’s sister was so very worried about her. I believe she will be one of our first residents after the house is up and running.”
A thought occurred to her that she should have considered long before now. “A question, my lord. What’s to happen if we find a building? My money is still tied up until I turn three and twenty.”
“Or marry,” Cam added.
“Yes. Well, how will I buy a building?”
“I am interested in this project myself. I will loan you the money to purchase the building and get it set up.”
Bridget gasped. “Oh, my. That’s wonderful.”
His eyes softened. “As I said, I am interested in this project myself. While I have been focusing on veterans’ concerns, I am grateful that you brought this problem to my attention.” He shook his head. “I had no idea women were at such a risk from those who had sworn to protect them.”
Her smile grew brighter. “I am glad to hear that. Unfortunately, too many men who are in a position to actually help merely turn a blind eye.”
“However,” he added, with a smirk. “I intend to hold you to your part of the bargain.”
“Considering suitors?”
“Precisely.”
At least he didn’t demand she settle on someone. He was a generous man, and despite his arrogance and overbearing attitude, he did have a soft heart.
Cam settled back in his seat, stretching out his legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. “Tell me a bit more about these women. I assume from what you’ve said so far that they are not of the ladybird ilk.”
Bridget was surprised Cam was willing to discuss this part of it with her and did not wish to be involved in only the finance end of it. And mentioning ladybirds was inappropriate, but she was thankful that he understood she could not help these poor women if she were squeamish. She’d never been the type of young girl who reached for her vinaigrette every time someone mentioned a word that supposedly offended gently bred ladies’ sensibilities.
In fact, she’d never even owned a vinaigrette. Nor did she possess said gently bred ladies’ sensibilities.
Her mama had died giving birth to a boy, who also had not survived, when Bridget had been quite young. Being raised on an estate without female supervision before she’d been sent away to school, she’d seen much more than most young ladies of her class. One only had to observe male and female animals together to have a general idea of what procreation was all about.
“No. While I know prostitutes’ plights are quite sorrowful, I am more interested in the working-class woman who returns home each night after a hard day’s work and is greeted with a drunk and irate husband anxious to put his hands on her money to buy liquor. She is someone with no one to turn to for help, most likely with children that need food, clothing, and shelter that she cannot provide on her own.”
“Personally, my lady, I think someone of your class should not be involving herself in this sort of thing,” Mrs. Dressel huffed. Her companion had made her opinion known before now, but Bridget waved her off.
“No one is helping them, Mrs. Dressel. If I don’t become involved, who will?”
“That is something the government should be taking up.”
Bridget turned to Cam. “Tell me, my lord, is the plight of women something Parliament is currently studying?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. While I am actively attempting to obtain more benefits for our veterans and their families, I must admit I was unaware of the problem you have presented.”
“Veterans are a very noble cause, as well. There are numerous families who suffer from abuse because there is no money.” Bridget turned to her companion. “You see, Mrs. Dressel, there is no government help for these women.”
Mrs. Dressel harrumphed. “Most likely they are in these positions because of the life they led. And perhaps some women deserve a trouncing.”
Bridget and Cam sat in stunned silence. Bridget was appalled that someone she thought she knew so well could hold such hateful and false ideas. Unfortunately, there were many others who felt the same way, which was why most people turned their eyes from those who were suffering.
Well, not her. She might have been blind herself until Minerva’s death. No more. There were far too many women who could not protect themselves from the very husbands who had vowed to do just that.
…
Cam turned his thoughts inward after the conversation with Bridget. He remembered too well what it felt like to have the person God had intended to protect him be the very one who’d beaten him numerous times. Some that had left scars on his back.
A toss down the stairs one time had not resulted in death like Bridget’s friend, Lady Davenport, but he had ended up with a broken arm. Despite the years that separated him from his father and his tyrannical treatment, Cam still suffered knots in his stomach, thinking about the beatings and rants he’d been subjected to. A summons from the former marquess had been sufficient for his childhood self to break into a sweat and enter the man’s presence trembling, trying to hide it, so as not to enrage his father more.
Parenthood was certainly not for the likes of him.
