Page 10 of A Dream of Redemption
His passion for them likely made him very good at his job, hence why Marisa employed him and gave him such autonomy.
The one thing that she definitely could not dispute though, was he was extraordinarily handsome. Antonia had let slip that when he was walking in the street women would stop and stare after him. Helen didn’t want to know how Antonia knew this. It would seem Antonia was as affected by Mr. Homeward as the servant girls.
As are you.She could not lie to herself. It wasn’t just his beauty that drew her, although a woman would have to be blind not to feel a flush of heat at his blatant masculine beauty. No, it was the mystery of his quiet, dignified persona that drew her. Having grown up in a turbulent household with warring parents who did not care to hide their animosity even in public, the quietness and dignity of Mr. Homeward’s bearing appealed.
The silent type calmed her inner anxiousness while presenting her with a challenge. She loved puzzles and mysteries, and getting to know Mr. Homeward would be both thrilling and very enjoyable to the eyes.
Just then, Helen noticed the carriage had rolled to a stop. She turned to the window and then threw a glance at Mr. Homeward. His full lips had firmed into a stern, thin line and she noted his hands fisted on his thighs. She leaned forward and looked out.
The soot stained, stone building in front of them looked like something out of her worst nightmare. Windows were hanging off hinges three stories up. No smoke was coming out of three of the four chimneys and it was a crisp cool day. Inside that drafty building the children must be freezing. She shivered in her cloak, and she hadn’t even stepped out of the carriage.
Mr. Homeward alighted as if the carriage were on fire, and she heard him walk to the two men following on horseback. She suspected he was telling them to take a note to Mr. Brown’s asking for the men and women ready to come and help.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and took Antonia’s hand. Looking at Mary she said, “This is not likely to be pleasant, if you two wish to return, take the carriage and simply send it back for me.”
Antonia looked at the building and then shook her head. “No. I want to help and it looks like the children will need lots of attention. When my mother died, if we did not have Maitland I could have ended up in a home like this.”
She squeezed Antonia’s hand. “Right. Come, ladies, children are waiting.”
Walking into the Southwark Home for Orphaned Children was like walking into a foreign land. The first thing that hit her was the smell. She took a step back and had to hide her gag from Mr. Homeward, who was looking at the three ladies in concern as they stood in the entry.
He strode forward and called out for Mr. Glover. They stood waiting for several minutes before a door opened and a man who was busy tucking his shirt into his breeches stepped forward.
“Mr. Homeward, I presume. We were expecting you days ago.”
This time she heard Antonia’s gasp and she too almost gagged. You could smell Mr. Glover before you could actually see his face. Helen’s heart sunk to her slippers. This was going to be a terrible day.
A woman followed in Mr. Glover’s shadow, and she looked totally unkempt, as if she’d hurriedly just got dressed. Looking between the two of them and their state of undress, perhaps she had.
Her anger rose like a hurricane.
Mr. Homeward stepped forward but did not offer the man his hand. “Good morning, Mr. Glover. Her Grace has sent myself and Her Grace’s sister, Lady Helen Hawkestone, in her place to inspect her new acquisition. Perhaps you and I could have a word in your study while the ladies inspect the kitchens, the matrons’ quarters, and the children’s dormitories.”
Helen could tell that Mr. Glover was not at all happy with that suggestion. The woman standing by his side looked alarmed, and you could almost see her shaking in her stained slippers.
Mr. Homeward pointed toward the study, and Mr. Glover had no choice but to lead him there. Before he followed Mr. Glover into the study, he turned to Helen and said, “Start down in the kitchen and work your way up. I suggest you stay together and take Peters with you.”
She nodded in reply, totally unsure if she could manage what she was being asked to do. Then she looked at the sly smile on the woman’s face and straightened her shoulders. She was here for the children and she wasn’t about to let this woman frighten her, or stop her from doing what she’d come here to do.
“What is your name?” Helen asked sternly.
“Nancy, my lady,” and suddenly unsure of herself she curtseyed.
“Lead on.” If the kitchen was as filthy as this hallway and the outside of the building, it was no wonder the children were getting sick and dying.
“This is appalling. I cannot believe people live like this,” Antonia said under her breath.
Helen was almost ashamed of the luxury she lived in. For a fleeting moment she was suddenly very thankful for the parents she’d had, regardless of the fact they were despicable human beings.
As they descended the stairs, the smell of freshly baked bread began to smother the stink of the dirt. To Helen’s surprise when she entered the kitchen, it was spotless. The woman who turned to greet them was tidy, clean, and her apron, though covered in flour, was starch white. She gave Nancy a withering look and curtseyed.
“Your Grace, I have been waiting for your arrival. I’d like to report how badly this place is being run.”
Nancy took a step toward her with hands curled into fists.
Helen smiled, but was not sure if the cook had simply cleaned up the place since she knew the orphanage had a new benefactor or if she always kept it clean. “I’m Lady Helen Hawkestone, Her Grace’s sister.”
“I’m Mrs. Thorn, my lady. I have only been here two months, and I was hoping Her Grace would have come as soon as she took over.”
