They all exchanged small talk while Leorah took the baby from her. “Little Livvie is getting so big.”
“Yes, she is, and finally sleeping through the night.” Rachel smiled.
Rachel had been helping at the Children’s Aid Mission since before her baby was born. She said she needed something to occupy her time and her mind as she tried to find employment.
“My baby is illegitimate,” she had told Leorah one day when they were watching the younger children play and making sure they didn’t wander off. “I am not a respectable lady like you, Miss Langdon, and I will understand if you wish not to speak with me anymore.”
Leorah had only shook her head. “I would never shun you. God loves us all. We are all frail creatures with no right to condemn anyone.”
A little boy ran up to them. His mother worked as a laundress and depended on the Children’s Aid Mission to watch out for him while she was away from home. He gave them both a shy smile, then handed them each a little wildflower he had picked from the yard.
“Thank you, Peter,” they said.
When Leorah turned to look at her, Rachel’s eyes were full of tears.
“Thank you, Miss Langdon. You are much more charitable than most women.”
Leorah learned later from Sarah Wilson that Rachel was the courtesan of some Member of Parliament, but Rachel would not say whom. She came nearly every day to the Children’s Aid Mission to help.
Now, as Leorah held the baby, Nicholas and Julia went to speak with the young rector and his wife who ran the mission.
Rachel hurried back from the kitchen. “Here, let me take her. I know she is heavy.”
“Not at all. Let me hold her a while.” Leorah snuggled the plump baby girl’s cheek against hers. Baby skin was surely the softest in all creation.
Rachel sighed deeply, as if she’d not had time to catch her breath all morning until then. “She is drooling so much, I believe she must be teething. Be careful or she’ll get your dress wet.”
Leorah laughed. “A little baby drool can’t hurt. Isn’t that so, Livvie?” She looked little Livvie in the eye and cooed and smiled at her. Her tiny fist was in her mouth, and so she couldn’t smile back.
Leorah turned her attention back to Rachel. “Have you found a position anywhere?”
Rachel shook her head. “There doesn’t seem to be anywhere I can work that won’t force me to separate from Livvie. If I get a position as a servant, I’ll be away from her nearly every day and most nights, and I would only be able to see her one day a week. I don’t have anyone who can watch her, and besides that, I cannot bear to think of being away from her so much. I am not sure what I can do.” Rachel bit her lip, obviously fighting back tears.
“If only there were something I could do. I would help you, Rachel, with all my heart.” If she were an independent woman, if her father would give her the twenty thousand pounds he held in reserve as her dowry, then she could settle Rachel somewhere near her. Or better yet, she could open a home for unwed mothers like Rachel, to give them a place to go. For so many like Rachel, their only options were to give up their children or to become some man’s “kept mistress” in order to keep their child.
“Perhaps my brother Nicholas could help you.”
“Miss Langdon, you are too good.” Rachel smiled wanly. “I wish to work and make my own way, but there is another possibility. There is a home Mr. and Mrs. Wilson have told me about where I might go and live with my daughter and still help out at the Children’s Aid Mission.”
Leorah knew where she meant. It was a crowded building for unwed mothers and mothers-to-be who had nowhere else to go. To say the accommodations were not very comfortable was an understatement.
“I know what you are thinking, but it will do for Livvie and me. I need to get used to less luxury.” She bounced the baby, who was getting fussy, up and down in her arms. “It cannot be long before he stops paying my rent.”
“Has he seen the baby? Is he not willing to pay a stipend for her care?”
Rachel shook her head, not meeting Leorah’s eye. “He still insists I give her up.” Tears welled up in her eyes. She whispered, “I would never give her up.” She hugged her baby tighter, discreetly wiping a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“I shall be going back to Lincolnshire soon, but I want you to write to me,” Leorah said. “I shall write to you here, and Sarah Wilson will make sure you get my letters. I’ll help you in any way that I can, and I want to know what is happening with you.”
Rachel smiled. “You are very kind, Miss Langdon.”
A few nights later, Leorah accompanied Julia and Nicholas to a concert featuring a soprano she had heard much about. As they were arriving at the beautiful concert hall, its alabaster walls and columns aglow with candlelight, Leorah separated herself from Nicholas and Julia to speak to Eleanor Thomas, an acquaintance of hers.
While the two of them stood speaking about the horrible weather, which had for days prevented them from taking a morning walk, Leorah watched Lord Withinghall enter and walk toward Nicholas and Julia. They stood conversing.
Leorah groaned before she could stop herself.
“What is it?” Eleanor asked.
“Oh, it is only . . . nothing.” It was best that she didn’t gossip about the man. She wasn’t as sure of Eleanor’s discretion as she was of Felicity Mayson’s. As she continued her conversation with Eleanor, she kept an eye on her brother and sister-in-law and Lord Withinghall.
Couldn’t the man afford more fashionable clothes? The cut of his coat was less than admirable, and his cravat was so plainly tied that it gave him the appearance of a poor clerk in a counting house. Though he was rather thin, she couldn’t fault the width of his shoulders nor his height. Only his tailor.
“Isn’t that Viscount Withinghall talking with your brother?” Eleanor asked.
“Oh yes, I believe it is.” Leorah turned away from the three as though it did not concern her in the least.
“I have heard the viscount has twenty-five thousand a year.” Eleanor’s eyes were wide with interest, looking as if she had entirely forgotten what they had been saying about Hyde Park and the best places to walk. “He is quite handsome, don’t you think?”
“He seems rather plain and grossly lacking a proper sense of style in his clothing choices.”
“Oh no, not grossly lacking. Besides, I’m sure his future wife could easily contrive to change his fashion sense.”