Page 20 of Pining for Lord Lockhart
“We shall just have to stall.” He sat up, about to stand and do the craziest thing he’d yet done.
“What are you doing?”
“I have his words. Perhaps we shall read some?”
“Can you do readings?” Her eyes widened, the hope that lit in them gratifying him to no end.
“Well, I can read.” He laughed as he flipped to his favorite of the essays.
She placed a hand on his arm to stall him and stood up herself.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen. We are so grateful you have joined us this evening to hear the words of Mr. Lawrence Hamilton. He has been delayed but we will begin the program with the hopes that when his slotted time arrives, he will be here to address us.”
And just like that, she smoothed over the awkwardness of their beginning.
She squeezed his hand as they passed each other, he moving to stand in front of a rather large group, and she returning to her seat.
He cleared his throat. Some of society’s highest born ladies were present in this room along with the members of their typical group. The duchess’ influence was useful indeed. He remembered that Mr. Hamilton had been a leader in the original groupings of the bluestockings. Perhaps all of these ladies had been a part.
The wife of an extraordinarily pompous earl spoke next. “At last, the return of Mr. Hamilton. I too am anxious to meet the man, to hear where he’s been.”
A low murmur of agreement moved through them.
“I respect his words. And I ask myself, just as I’d like to ask him, where are the actions to back the sentiments? We have high thoughts, high hopes, much moralizing as regards to the plight of the poor, but what are we doing about it?”
Andrew cleared his throat, ready to begin. Charity’s eyes were shining in happiness, his words being her very thoughts on the matter he knew, yet the others might not be as prepared to hear them. “With those thoughts to nudge us, I will begin with his essay titled, ‘Sentiments on the Plight of the Poor.’”
He’d quite enjoyed the man’s words and so reading aloud with feeling and emotion came naturally. He was lost in the treatise itself until the end. When he read the final line, and the ladies all clapped, he blinked in surprise.
Had Mr. Hamilton arrived? Charity shook her head.
“Shall we move on to perhaps his most famous?”
Andrew read and read, entertaining as best he could. The ladies laughed and wiped a tear or two. Perhaps he’d done the man’s ideas justice. He hoped he’d helped Charity’s event be successful. At the finish of the next essay, he closed the book. “And so must begin our discussion. Who has had thoughts right now, during this salon, of ways you could make a difference?”
For a moment, no one said anything at all, and Andrew worried he’d just created a long awkward silence, but then the Duchess of York, seated in the back, stood. “I’ve spent the last fifteen years of my life thinking on those days of our first bluestocking meetings. I’ve known we had good ideas back then. I’ve reviewed my notes and I’ve not done what I could. Listening again from the mouth of this powerful orator, I know I can do more. Who will pledge to act?”
The ladies nodded and murmured in agreement. Another woman raised her hand. “I too, feel called to do something, but what?”
The Duchess of York winked at him.
Charity joined him at his side. “We have an idea.”
“Just today we came to an important conclusion.”
Then Charity outlined their thoughts on a school. “But there are some complexities to work through and for this, we could use your help.”
“For example. Where in London would be a useful and safe place to hold a school?”
The women hummed in excitement. Many erupted in conversation with those at their sides. They had not planned to bring the whole group into their planning, but it had seemed the perfect moment. Lord Lockhart winked back at the Duchess of York.
“How about a church? I think there are areas just north of London with a vicar or two who could assist us.” The speaker was an elderly lady dressed with more ornamentation than the rest of them. Andrew didn’t know who she was, but Charity placed a hand on his arm. “Oh, Lady Everly. That is an excellent idea. I wonder if even perhaps some churches closer, like Saint Paul’s for instance. Would they be willing to open their doors, their offices or their classrooms as a service to the poor among us?”
Lady Everly nodded. “And if anyone needs to speak to these men of God, I’ll be the first to remind them of their duties.”
With the support of such a highly respected member of their party, the other women in the room started calling out ideas as well. A servant brought paper, an inkwell and a quill, and Charity took furious notes. By the time they were finished, the plans for a school were in place, the funds were allocated, and several promising locations were about to be researched. Charity looked as though she might be walking on the clouds.
And then a man entered the room; the servants announced him as Mr. Lawrence Hamilton. Every head turned around to see a stranger sway in place, obviously in his cups, a crumpled piece of paper in his fist, his hair disheveled, his suit coat old and thread born, and a sneer on his face. “You think can change any of this? Do you think your small ideas will actually make a difference?” His hand gripped the back of the nearest chair.
