Page 79 of His Illegitimate Duchess

E very Wednesday, Elizabeth discovered a new reason to admire Mrs Cooper, whose whole body changed once she stepped into the hospitals.

Lizzie had never seen anything like it. The woman who, to the casual observer, may appear soft and coy, turned into flint on Wednesdays.

Mrs Cooper was the one to ask for help, advice, and guidance, like a general on the battlefield.

Even her husband followed her lead. Whenever she was unsure of herself during her voluntary duties, Lizzie attempted to imitate Mrs Cooper’s demeanour.

Working with the foundlings and the penitent prostitutes all these weeks had changed something deep inside Elizabeth. She often found herself thinking back on Lady Georgiana’s words about age (and thus, experience) giving a person a new set of eyes.

The beginning of the New Year was a busy time for the young duchess.

She spent the first Wednesday of the year teaching at the Magdalen hospital, while Talbot was busy reading to Hettie at the poorhouse.

His special bond with the old woman warmed her heart, but it also made her think about the painting of the mother and child she had seen at Norwich and how he never talked about his mother but, oddly enough, got along well with Hettie, Lady Burnham, and Lizzie’s own mother.

She’d even found him chatting with Jane several times lately.

And then there were the children at the Foundling Hospital.

Since Doctor and Mrs Cooper usually dealt with those who were sick or infirm, Lizzie and Colin would usually spend time with the others.

She would teach a group their letters, and would mend their clothes (all the while instructing and training the older girls how to do it), while Talbot read to the others or played with them.

Her husband demonstrated the same gentle playfulness he’d adopted while outdoors with her last summer, alongside a boyish curiosity.

Whereas Elizabeth was more drawn to the babies and children Emma’s age, like Sarah, Talbot would have long, serious conversations with the older children, particularly a quiet, withdrawn girl of ten named Mary.

Elizabeth had spoken to Mary a few times, and it was painfully obvious that Mary was already aware of her place in the world and without any hope or desire to ever change it.

Elizabeth hadn’t wanted to lie and tell the girl that she could do anything she wanted to, not when her future most certainly held only backbreaking labour, but she wished she could do something to help lift her spirits.

This Wednesday, however, she discovered that her husband had other plans for Mary.

“Do you remember the friend I was telling you about?” he asked the girl as Elizabeth pretended she was engrossed in her needlework.

“The one you said I reminded you of?” Mary asked, and Talbot nodded. “You said his name was Mister Brandon.”

“Very good, Mary. Well, I spoke to him about you and William, and we both agreed that he could benefit from your help as he sets up the Norwich branch of the Foundling Hospital.”

“What does that mean?” the girl asked, suddenly more animated than Elizabeth had ever seen her.

“It means that, if you agree to it, you shall both go live with him and his wife at my estate in Norfolk,” he said, and Mary nodded eagerly.

“I looked it up on the map after you told me about it.”

“Clever girl.” Talbot gave her a big, proud smile, and Mary seemed to sit up a bit straighter.

“So you know where it is, and next time I shall bring them both by so you can meet them. The Brandons will make sure you each have your own room with your own bed, and he will teach you arithmetic and various things important for running an estate and establishing a charitable hospital.”

“Have you spoken to William already?” Mary asked anxiously.

William was an older boy who was even more withdrawn than she was, but Elizabeth could have sworn she’d heard him laugh at something Talbot had said once.

“I have,” Colin replied. “He said he’s looking forward to it.”

Mary exhaled in relief.

This must be such a daunting prospect for her, Lizzie thought, and her heart ached for the girl, who’d never known anything but the Foundling Hospital. Having a familiar face there will make it easier.

Then, with a start, she realised what she had just witnessed: her husband handpicking two new members of his staff.

He must have seen something in these two children that was obvious to no one but him, and Elizabeth was overjoyed because she knew that meant they would be safe and taken care of and have a place in the world for as long as they lived.

Elizabeth looked down and saw a stain on the shirt she had been mending. It was a tear that had fallen from her eye. She quickly wiped her face.

Is it possible that he chose me in a similar fashion?

She shook her head to dispel the thought, because that would mean that she herself possessed something no one else in Talbot’s life had, something obvious to him alone.

No, she reprimanded herself. Enough of the silliness.

She instead thought of the Brandons and the love and care they would give these two young people.

Edward and his wife were still in London and were being kind enough to chaperone Elinor while they all stayed in Talbot’s townhouse.

However, Lizzie would need to take over upon their return to Norwich, which she was already dreading.

She was still avoiding Ton events and would be perfectly content to continue to do so forever.

She wondered what the Brandons thought about her and her husband these days.

In the beginning, when they had first arrived, it had been obvious that they were taken aback by how much the Talbots’ present dynamic differed from the days they’d all spent together in Norwich, but either Talbot had spoken to his friend, or they had adjusted to it with time.

Mrs Brandon was too polite to ask Elizabeth anything directly, and Elizabeth wasn’t fond of sharing too much of her feelings with others. Either way, no one said anything.

Her relationship with her husband was still more or less the same – they saw each other at breakfast and dinner, and spent Wednesdays together.

They were polite to each other, but there was no real warmth in their interactions, and no touches except for when he helped her into the carriage every Wednesday morning.

And yet, there was an undercurrent of some unspoken kinship among them now, a camaraderie born on the day when they had cradled the babies that no one in the world wanted.

And before Elizabeth knew it, it was Wednesday again.

Today, the men had gone to visit the poorhouse and the Foundling Hospital with Mr and Mrs Brandon, so she was alone with Mrs Cooper.

She repeatedly told herself that it was no problem.

It was fine! She didn’t want to be around Colin anyway.

It wasn’t like she looked forward to that brief touch of his hand on Wednesday mornings. Ridiculous!

Mrs Cooper decided to use this opportunity provided by the men’s absence to instruct the poor married women on how to avoid another pregnancy.

“Any knowledgeable midwife can help you, but most of you can purchase or find these plants on your own. Ergot, penny-royal, savin,” she listed, and Elizabeth wondered what her mother’s life would have been like if she could have prevented a pregnancy, or what her own life would have been like if her mother had abandoned her. She shuddered.

Those thoughts plagued her for the remainder of the afternoon, although she did her best not to let them affect her lesson with the Magdalen girls.

When she was done putting away all the writing things in the assigned cupboard, Elizabeth approached Mrs. Cooper, who was talking to a group of young women, as she had a habit of doing.

Those conversations usually left the women in better spirits than they’d found them in.

“My husband taught me many important lessons about life,” Mrs Cooper was telling the girls, “but the most important one he needed to repeat to me over and over again until I started believing it – The past is a lighthouse, not a port.”

Some of the girls frowned, so Mrs Cooper hastened to explain.

“Lighthouses show ships the way, they illuminate any dangerous rocks or reefs along the coastline, and help guide ships safely into harbours, where ships dock in and then remain there. Now, the fact that you used to be prostitutes,” she said the word with no judgement whatsoever, “that can become your port, something that you sit in without moving, something that you allow to mark the rest of your life. Or,” she looked at all of their faces, “it can be a lighthouse that illuminates which circumstances or choices had led you there, and helps you avoid those dangerous shores and such mistakes in the future.”

Elizabeth kept biting the inside of her cheek, but it didn’t help; the tears started to flow regardless.

She quickly stood up and left the room. In the hallway, she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes to the point of pain, but her chest still shook with silent sobs.

By the time Mrs Cooper joined her, she had mostly calmed down, but she knew that her eyes were red and her face was blotchy; luckily, Mrs Cooper pretended she hadn’t noticed a thing.

On the way home, Elizabeth thought about her own past and how she had, perhaps, spent too much time anchored in it, instead of using it to navigate life better.

She thought of her father and all the men who had taken advantage of her students at the Magdalen Hospital, but she also thought of all the good men she knew, how kind they were, and how much they all loved their wives (Mr. Ed, and Robert, and on some days, even Nicholas!).

The carriage stopped to pick up the men from their assignment, and Lizzie gave them a little smile.

Is Colin one of the good men? Can he be, despite what he did?