10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“ I think it’s admirable,” Isobel said, as Ernest sat with her at breakfast the following morning.

He looked up at his sister and nodded. She had been talking about the opening of the soup kitchen, which she herself was going to help at, and which Ernest, too, had promised to attend. He had an appointment with an architect to discuss plans for the now acquired building which would house the school, and then he would go to the market square to help with the distribution of the food and promote the school to those with children who were blind.

“It’s not enough just to help the blind children – though that remains my priority. No, we need to do more for everyone. We need to give families food – to make sure they’ve got enough to eat. Then we can begin improving other aspects of their lives, too,” he replied.

Ernest had ambitious plans. He had seen for himself the horrors of the workhouses, and his dream was to ensure no child would end up in such a dreadful place but be given the opportunity for education and meaningful activity. It was a huge task, but one he felt empowered to undertake, supported by those, like Alicia, who shared his vision.

“She’s certainly taken your ideas to heart,” Isobel said, raising her eyebrows and smiling.

“I’m not a social reformer, Isobel. I don’t want to overthrow the order of things. I’m not a political philosopher like those on the continent. I just happen to think a child should be entitled to eat, and a mother given the opportunity to feed her family. Why is that so radical?” he asked.

Isobel shook her head.

“It shouldn’t be radical – not at all. But you know what people are like,” she said.

“I know what the ton are like. They look across the channel to France and fear a similar uprising. Their solution – keep the poor in check and give them nothing to help themselves with, lest they rise up. But they don’t see the anger in a father’s face when his child goes hungry or hear the wail of a mother whose child dies in her arms. That’s what brings anger. And anger brings rebellion,” Ernest replied.

He did not want to be a revolutionary, but he did want to see a more equal society, and if that meant ruffling the feathers of the aristocracy, so be it – he would be glad to do so.

“It’s admirable, Brother, and I know Alicia thinks very highly of you,” Isobel persisted.

Ernest rolled his eyes. He knew what his sister was doing, but she would not succeed. His guilt about the past was enough to dissuade him from ever having any thought of a romantic connection – not with someone he truly cared about, at least. He liked Alicia – he liked her a great deal – but he was not about to drag her into the scandal of his past or jeopardize the opening of the school by offending Caroline. The viscount’s daughter simply had to believe she had the upper hand, even if she, too, would be horrified when she discovered the truth.

“I’m sure she does, but I don’t want her to,” Ernest replied.

He would rather no one thought highly of him. In his own estimation, Ernest did not deserve to be thought highly of. His was an act of atonement, and the praise he received was enough to make him feel terribly guilty for covering up his past. Isobel sighed.

“What have I told you, Ernest? You don’t need to feel guilty. Not for the past. Alicia’s a delight. If you have feelings for her…” she began, but Ernest raised his hand to stop her.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Isobel. I need to go. The architect’s waiting for me,” he said, pulling off his napkin and rising to his feet.

Isobel would only continue to insist on his virtue, and Ernest did not want to hear it…

***

“ E rnest, there you are. Isn’t it wonderful? We’ve already served fifty bowls of soup,” Caroline said, hurrying up to Ernest who had just entered the market square to find the soup kitchen running like a military operation.

Two lines had formed in front of a set of braziers, the fires of which were being stoked by several laborers, passing wood along a line. Two large vats of soup were bubbling above the flames, whilst a table to one side was stacked with several hundred loaves of bread. Bowls were being distributed by Isobel, and Ernest recognized Lily and Anne amongst the helpers, along with several other aristocratic women, and servants from both Leamington Grange and Burnley Abbey. Word of the soup kitchen had clearly spread, and several dozen large families were being ushered towards the lines by the well-meaning helpers. Ernest spotted Alicia directing the operation, but it was Caroline who now seized his arm, pointing out the organization and taking credit for her own part in bringing it to fruition.

“We’ve got two lines – one for soup, one for bread. They take their bread first, then receive a bowl for the soup. It’s good, hearty, vegetable broth. I gave Alicia a recipe of our cook’s – her own wasn’t up to the task. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s a great success,” Caroline said.

Ernest did not like the way she clung to his arm. She always wanted to be close to him, and it made him feel uncomfortable.

“Yes…very good. I’m sure it’s proving a great success,” he said, as she steered him towards the line of poor families waiting to be fed.

“Thank you, my Lord. God bless you for what you’ve done. Our poor Timothy… I’ve not known what to do to help him. But you’ve given us hope. He can have an education thanks to you. You’ve done so much for us, and now this, too – feeding our children. We can’t thank you enough,” a woman with two children in her arms, her face pockmarked, her hair matted, and wearing a tatty dress said, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Ernest nodded, blushing slightly. He did not like to be confronted with adulation in such a way. He did not feel worthy of it, even as Caroline looked at him adoringly.

“You see what you’ve done for these people, Ernest. I heard Mrs. Powell, here, had a son born blind, and I promised him a place at the school,” she said.

Ernest nodded.

“We’ll do all we can to help you, Mrs. Powell, and Timothy, too,” he said, glancing down at the boy who was holding onto his mother’s skirts with that same blank expression Ernest recognized from his father.

The woman burst into a fresh fit of tears, exclaiming Ernest’s virtues loudly, whilst others expressed similar sentiments. He was their savior, even as he felt like a fraud.

“It’s remarkable what you’ve done,” Caroline said, slipping her hand into Ernest’s.

He glanced across to where Alicia was directing the distribution of the bread, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was a strange expression on her face, not quite jealousy, but…disappointment. A sudden guilt ran through him, and he sighed, pulling his hand away from Caroline’s, and turning to the woman whose son was blind.

“Mrs. Powell, I want to help Timothy. He’ll be the first on the school roll. We’ll be opening very soon. And if you know of others, tell them to come to me – I’ll help you in any way I can,” he said, and taking out a shilling from his pocket, he slipped it into the woman’s hand, eliciting fresh sobs and exclamations.

“God bless you, my Lord, God bless you,” she cried, as Ernest walked away, followed by Caroline.

He wanted to talk to Alicia, even as he knew Caroline would not leave his side for a moment. There was an unpleasantly jealous streak to her, and there was no doubting her jealousy of Alicia.

“It’s a remarkable sight – all of this, I mean,” Ernest said, as he approached the table of bread.

Alicia looked up at him and nodded.

“We’ve been busy,” she said, as Caroline came hurrying up behind Ernest, calling out instructions to the other helpers as she did so.

“We’re going to need more bread, Alicia. I’ll send someone to the bakery. I knew we should’ve ordered more,” Caroline said.

Alicia’s demeanor did not change, even as Ernest felt certain she must be feeling angry at Caroline’s obvious attempts to discredit her. The soup kitchen had been Alicia’s idea, and Ernest was uncertain how Caroline had come to be so heavily involved. But Caroline was always involved, and it had not surprised Ernest to find her taking over.

“I’m sure there’ll be enough. It’s a third of a loaf each, and we’re being careful to stop anyone taking more than their fair share,” Alicia replied.

“We’ve done very well, as you can see, Ernest. I know it costs money, but my father’s agreed to cover the costs,” Caroline said.

Ernest glanced at Alicia, who narrowed her eyes.

“And we’ve had some kind donations from other sources, too,” she added.

Ernest nodded. He could sense the tension between the two women, despite the obvious veneer they maintained. It was clear Caroline had taken over the proceedings and was even now trying to take credit for Alicia’s hard work.

“I think you’ve done remarkably well. Do you intend for this to be a regular event, Alicia?” Ernest asked.

Caroline looked somewhat taken aback.

“ We think it’s been a great success, and yes, we’ll be repeating it next week, and the week after. It’s only soup and bread, but it means the poor are fed, and their children don’t go hungry. Look at the suffering here,” she exclaimed, extending her arm across the expanse of poor souls queuing for their soup.

Alicia rolled her eyes, though Caroline’s back was turned, and only Ernest saw.

“I know it’s greatly appreciated,” Ernest said, and Alicia nodded.

“It’s good of you to come. I know you’ve been busy this morning. Isobel told me you had a meeting with the architect,” Alicia said.

Ernest was about to reply when his sister called out across the crowd.

“Caroline, won’t you come and help me? I really need your assistance,” she said.

Caroline looked momentarily perturbed, torn between her desire to appear as chief organizer and her insistence on remaining at Ernest’s side at all times.

“I…yes, of course, Isobel,” she said, glancing at Ernest and smiling, before hurrying off to where Isobel was distributing the bowls.

“I’m…sorry,” Ernest said, turning back to Alicia, who smiled.

“It’s not your fault. I know what she’s like. She won’t be happy until she’s taken over everything – even the school itself – as long as you’re there running it with her,” Alicia replied.

Ernest blushed. He had not realized the matter was so obvious, and especially not to Alicia, whom he had no desire to upset.

“I’m really very grateful to you, Alicia. You’ve done so much to help me – and to help the children, too,” he said, but Alicia shook her head.

“A little soup, a loaf of bread… I don’t think it makes much difference. It’s a start, though. I see the gratitude on their faces, and I feel so guilty. I’ll go home to a warm bed, a maid, a hot meal…it doesn’t seem right,” Alicia said, shaking her head sadly.

Ernest, too, felt guilty. He wanted to do more, but he felt powerless to know what would help those in need. Alicia was right, soup and bread could salve the consciences of the ton, but it would do nothing to alleviate the grinding poverty so many people were forced to endure.

“You’ve done a good thing, Alicia. I’m grateful to you, and I know these people are, too. I’m sorry Caroline tries to make everything her own. It’s just her way,” Ernest said, for he did not want to admit it was because of him Caroline behaved in such a manner, even as he felt certain Alicia knew it was.

She looked at him and sighed.

“She does rather like to take over things,” Alicia said, and Ernest gave a wry smile.

“Yes…you’re right about that. I hope she doesn’t prove…too challenging,” he said, but Alicia shook her head.

“I’m not doing it for her. If she wants to be the center of attention, let her. It doesn’t matter to me,” Alicia replied.

Ernest admired her for this – and so much more. She was the very opposite of Caroline, who did all things for show. Alicia wanted no praise, no adulation – she had not even grown angry when Caroline had so obviously tried to take the credit for herself.

“You’re a good person, Alicia. I’m grateful for your help,” Ernest said, even as he might have said a great deal more.

His feelings for her were confused. She was very pretty and possessed of so many and varied qualities. There was nothing about her he did not find attractive, but his own fears held him back – the memory of the scandal, and how close he had come to disaster. He did not even know if her feelings extended to him, too…

“I could say the same about you – the school, the help you’ve given to so many. I encountered a woman earlier on who did nothing but sing your praise. She told me how you’d helped her when she was at her lowest and despairing of ever providing for her son. You’ve done so much,” Alicia said, and Ernest blushed.

He found praise difficult to accept, even as it was often given to him. His parents, Isobel, members of the ton, and now, Alicia. Everyone was so quick to praise him, but Ernest was forever aware of his faults – aware of the necessity for atonement.

“I’ve only done what’s necessary,” he said, feeling embarrassed.

At that moment, Caroline’s shrill voice rang out across the market square.

“Ernest, you must come – the Mayor’s here. He wants to congratulate us,” she called out, and Ernest sighed.

“You should go. There’s still a lot to do here. Caroline can receive her adulation if she wishes,” Alicia said.

Ernest gave a weak smile.

“Thank you,” he replied, holding her gaze for a moment, before turning to find Caroline beckoning him over to where the mayor was standing with several of his attendants.

Ernest did not think it was right for him – or Caroline – to receive praise for what had been entirely Alicia’s doing, but it seemed Alicia was happiest in the shadows, content to go about her work without being recognized for it.

“I’m coming,” Ernest called out, though in his heart, he knew where he would rather be…