“Sir Phineas said that it had been leased, but it seems that it’s been vacant for a while. He mentioned it has been in his family for around two hundred years, and he’d rather it be put to good use.”
“Sir Phineas Penhurst . . . I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him.” She wondered if he would be amenable to selling it to the charity for less than market value, or if he was in a situation where he needed the funds.
“Nor had I until yesterday. He indicated that he’s anxious to be rid of it.”
“One can understand why.” Helena walked to the other end of the cavernous room, eyeing the cracks in the plaster over the stones as she went. Despite its age, the floor wasn’t sloping and the columns appeared to be in good condition. “It needs some refurbishment, but I believe it’s structurally sound. Would he be opposed to having an engineer look it over to make certain before we begin negotiations?”
“My solicitor is helping to manage the sale for Sir Phineas. I can ask him.”
If the owner would be willing to sell it to the charity for a discount, there may be a chance of opening in the early part of the new year. The floor of the orphanage diverted to the needs of the women her charity would help was already filled to overflowing. This space was functional, assuming no structural issues were found. She held firmly to the excitement that was threatening to take flight. There would still be challenges, even if the owner agreed. The main one would be how to manage the monthly expenses with her reduced budget. Unease made the lump she always seemed to carry in her stomach these days grow slightly larger.
Every time she thought of that night, Maxwell Crenshaw came to mind. When she was alone and still, she could make herself remember the warmth of his body as he had stood next to her. She could imagine exactly how far she would have to rise on her toes and tilt her head to kiss him. Entirely inappropriate thoughts, especially now in this priory with his sister at her side.
Whirling her attention back to the space, she once more surveyed the state of the workroom tables. She could already see the women studiously stooped over them as they learned new skills. “Let us take a tour of the rest of the property,” she said.
Violet led the way to the other parts of the space. As she had suggested, the rooms above the mews would make perfect schoolrooms. There were even two small apartments that could be used as housing for staff who would live here full-time. The adjacent building that formed the entire north end of the campus was almost completely divided into small rooms, housing for the monks who originally resided here. They would make perfect transitional homes for the women and children who needed them now. The main floor held gathering rooms, which would work well for a nursery area for the smaller children and a social area for the women. There was even a communal kitchen. It was housed in a small building that had obviously been added on later. Unfortunately, it would need to be almost completely refurbished with updated appliances.
There was so much potential here that Helena found herself smiling as the tour concluded, and hope began to take root in her chest no matter how she admonished herself to be sensible. Nothing was decided, and she very well may not be able to afford the property. But it was so perfect for their needs that she couldn’t help but hope it would work out.
As the three of them walked out to her waiting carriage, Helena said, “Violet, you have outdone yourself. I don’t think I could have found a more perfect solution if I had commissioned a building myself. How did you find it again?”
Violet flushed, a sheepish look coming over her face as she glanced at the tall building to the south, fronting the main road. “August has expressed interest in purchasing the metalworks factory over there. I came with her to view it a few days ago and noticed this place seemed vacant. As you may recall, my sister and I share the same solicitor, Mr. Clark.” At Helena’s nod, she continued, “I asked him if he knew the owner, and it turns out the same Sir Phineas owns nearly that entire section of street, including the factory.”
“How convenient,” Helena said, still uncertain why this revelation would cause her friend to appear guilty, but that question was completely forgotten as another possibility came to mind. “Violet . . . do you suppose that August would consider hiring some of our residents if she purchases the factory? We could provide the training they would need, of course.”
August was well-known as a progressive thinker when it came to women and their roles in the world. While most factory owners who would hire women relegated them to roles they deemed suitable for the weaker sex—textile work, usually—August might actually consider women for jobs that carried responsibility and better pay.
“That’s an excellent suggestion. I am almost certain that she would.”
“This could be the answer we’ve been looking for. Do you suppose it would be terribly unseemly if we go directly to your Mr. Clark and inquire about the building?”
Violet laughed. “I don’t know, but it won’t be the first time I’ve barged in. Let’s make a quick stop there and find out.”
* * *
• • •
Bloomsbury Orphanage had been in existence in one form or another for nearly two hundred years. Starting in an abandoned hovel one lane over from Newgate Prison, it had been a place to house the cast-off children of the prisoners. From there the charity had moved to bigger lodgings in Whitechapel, then Clerkenwell, before finally settling into its new home and name in Bloomsbury. Along the way its patronage had changed hands several times, until it had come under the very capable stewardship of Helena’s mother-in-law, Lady Sansbury. It was under her influence that Helena had been inspired to begin volunteering in the first year of her marriage. After Arthur’s death a mere two and a half years after their wedding, Lady Sansbury had retreated to the countryside to nurse her grief, while Helena had found sanctuary in her work at the orphanage. The one place where she felt that she could make a difference.
Perhaps she had been foolish, or greedy even, to think that she might foster that initiative and create a charity on her own. It was looking more and more like the London Home for Young Women would not materialize soon, at least not any further than the upper floor of the orphanage.
“I don’t understand, Charlotte. How does my father have such control over them? How can he make them renege on their promises without regret?” Helena put her elbows on her desk and dropped her head into her hands, giving in to a rare moment of pique. The words on the letters before her swam on the papers. Two more of her father’s associates were pulling their pledges. It was all due to poor planning and financial issues on their part—or so they said—but she knew the truth. This was his very unsubtle way of making a very unfortunate point.
Charlotte hurried around the desk and placed a reassuring hand on Helena’s shoulder. She was one of the few patronesses of the orphanage who had been willing to follow Helena into this new endeavor. The same one that seemed in danger of faltering before it even got started.