“It seems the world may soon come to an end. Glance out your windows and keep a weather eye for flying pigs. Think you I exaggerate? You need only to have witnessed the sight I beheld yesterday afternoon to be convinced. That most infamous son of the Earl of W … visiting a London foundling home along with a charity organization. Why, I’d never thought I’d see the day! Of course, it could simply be a matter of a certain heiress who happens to be a patroness of the home. In fact, I also spied a certain future viscount amongst the party in question. It seems the stakes have just been raised.”
The London Gossip, September 3, 1819
As it turned out, not only was Calliope a saint, she was also a damned good patroness and committee organizer. Dominick had been prepared for a yawn-inducing afternoon listening to women titter about orphans and funds, and whatever else they got up to at these meetings. He’d been grateful for the tea, as drinking it would give him something to do other than sink into the settee and doze off.
He could not have been more surprised to watch Calliope take control of the committee with a deft understanding of the home she gave her money to, as well as a confident command of the people around her. Most of the women here were a decade or more older than her, with the exception of her sister, yet snapped to attention with nothing but a word from her. She ruled them like the strictest of governesses, jotting down notes on Mrs. Fisher’s list as she led the discussion on the needs of the home and the allocation of funds for the month.
Dominick had always been adept at turning figures over in his head without nary a scrap of paper in sight. As Calliope and her committee talked, he couldn’t help mentally adding and subtracting as they voted for or against various expenditures. He realized as he watched her make her notes, that she was doing the exact same thing—running the figures in her head, and, without second-guessing her calculations, informed the committee whether something could be afforded based on the monies already apportioned.
By the time she stood to announce the meeting was adjourned, an hour and a half had passed. Nick stood and set his untouched tea aside, realizing he’d hardly felt the time passing by, so engrossed had he been with watching Calliope excel at something she so obviously enjoyed. He could imagine her a general leading troops into battle as he fell in step among the others to follow her on their tour of the home. Mr. Lewes offered his arm, but she refused it, choosing instead to continue making notes with her stub of a pencil while they made their way through the corridors.
The foundling home was nothing like he would have imagined—not that Nick had ever been inside such a place. The efforts of its patronesses were clear in the bright decor of each room, as well as the abundance of coal for keeping fires lit, toys and books, and even the hearty food the children consumed at every meal.
She took them to the empty schoolroom and introduced them to Mr. Young, the tutor, and interviewed the man about his needs for the schoolroom. Then, she led them into the attached music room—a small, cramped space containing a harpsichord, violin, and lute—informing the rest of the committee that their efforts at expanding the available instruments would commence at their next meeting. There were three outer courtyards off each small wing of the home—one housing the herb and vegetable garden, one for the cultivating of flowers, and another for the purpose of play.
From there, they ascended to the upper floors, where they inspected the dormitories, which were separated by age and sex. The uppermost room turned out to be a nursery for the infants, and was filled wall to wall with cradles. Three matrons in aprons tended to them with soft coos and murmurs, their affection for the babes clear.
Naturally, the women in their company collapsed into fits of awe at the sight of the babies, and they descended like a flock of sighing birds. Babes were taken into arms and paraded about, each lady gasping or exclaiming over some thing or other that their infant had done.
Even Calliope set her notes aside long enough to crouch and bring a