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Charlotte made her dramatic departure, nursing her wounded ego over his insensitive remark. It had become quite apparent the man thought little of her as a woman. If she wanted to win the bet, she would need to control her temper that often boiled like a steaming teakettle.
They planned to attend the races for their next outing, but Charlotte was in no mood to cheer galloping horses across the track. She wanted a day away from Albert to reconsider her strategy in the challenge. Instead, she escaped to the East End among others who welcomed her presence. Working at the Salvation Army’s soup kitchen for the day sounded far more pleasant than listening to Albert voice his rhetoric about good society.
Their discussion yesterday had revealed a few things about Albert she didn’t know. The childhood mishap of losing his parents did elicit a pang of empathy, though he became strangely quiet about the means of their demise. She concluded his snobbish attitude must have been ingrained in him from childhood, growing up under his uncle’s tutelage. The two cousins were probably equally obnoxious.
As far as her life, everything of relevance was out in the open. Her father married his mistress, which had been well known in social circles. Rachel, her mother, had come from a poor background but shrewdly used her beauty for gain. Growing up, she instilled in Charlotte qualities of compassion. She loved reaching out to those less fortunate and thought it her Christian duty even though she hadn’t attended church in years. Naturally, her values were a direct opposite of Albert’s lofty principles.
Beyond that, Charlotte confessed she married Rutherford for the money. In all honesty, he wasn’t a monster in his treatment but possessed a kind and attentive personality. Perhaps she had placed herself on the altar of matrimonial sacrifice to pay her father’s gambling debts but knew her husband would probably meet his maker sooner than later. His health had already become an issue. Between the cigars, copious amounts of brandy, and poor eating habits, widowhood arrived earlier than expected.
Nevertheless, Rutherford adored her but had been a sad excuse for a lover, rutting like a deer and rolling off her out of breath and sweaty. During their time together, they were socially active, and she met interesting people. With her gregarious personality and occasional flirting with the men, she had begun to form a reputation. Charlotte’s admission, however, of having an adulterous affair while married had been a bold-faced lie. The truth of the matter sadly remained she, too, had never fallen in love, but admitting it to Albert was not an option. He had irritated her to such a degree she wanted to shock him into further repulsion.
When her husband suddenly died, Charlotte found herself a wealthy woman and threw herself into social circles where she felt comfortable. Gaming and the theater were exciting as well as the people who became her friends and acquaintances. Charlotte admitted her outrageous behavior was a bid for attention. Nevertheless, what woman doesn’t crave a man’s admiration? Naturally, her wealth added to the magnetism of her personality.
After sending Albert a note postponing their scheduled outing, she arrived at the Salvation Army’s location in Whitechapel. Although Charlotte belonged to the Church of England, she highly regarded the work of William Booth and his outreach to the poor. Of course, the sinful vices of her private life were inappropriate in the eyes of this sect of Christianity, so she kept her personal affairs hidden for the most part. Nevertheless, she had been allowed to work alongside lower-ranking cadets in the army to lend a helping hand with “soup, soap, and salvation,” which was their slogan.
“Lady Rutherford, nice to see you.” Captain Brown greeted her enthusiastically with a warm smile. “We weren’t expecting you here today.”
“I hope you don’t mind, Captain. My day was free, and you know what the good book says about idle hands.”
The captain snorted a laugh. “Well, I think that was Chaucer’s statement about idle hands are the devil’s workshop, not the good book’s word.”
“Oh dear,” Charlotte replied. An embarrassed blush burst on her cheeks. “I’m afraid my ignorance of the scriptures has become quite evident.”
“No worry. You know how much we appreciate your support.”
“That reminds me,” Charlotte said. She opened her purse and retrieved the five-hundred-pound winnings from the casino. “This is for the Hanbury Street Shelter. Please see it’s put to good use for the ladies who find refuge there.” The captain’s eyes widened at the generous donation. Charlotte struggled with guilt, offering vice-filled earnings. Nevertheless, it was a trifle she did not need. Hopefully, there would be forgiveness from above regarding its gain.
“You are most generous, Lady Rutherford.” He looked at the folded bills and lifted his eyes to Charlotte. “It will be put to good use.”
“Fine then,” Charlotte replied, pushing aside the guilt. “I’m off to the soup line.” Charlotte grabbed an apron from the kitchen and wrapped it around her waist. She was familiar with the task at hand and started her duties as the stream of homeless and needy lined up for lunch. As she dipped the ladle into the pot of broth, wishing it had more substance of meat and vegetables, she poured it into the bowls and offered a smile to each who passed by the table. Their thankfulness never ceased to be evident whether it be a word or nod.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Charlotte smiled, and a warm glow filled her heart. Today she felt especially grateful Albert had not been there to lecture her about decent society. As the hour passed and the pot emptied, Charlotte turned to the kitchen for a replacement. She went to grab the two handles at either end, but another pair of hands reached out instead.
“Let me help with that, miss.”
Nothing could have prepared her for what she witnessed as Albert stood before her, offering a helping hand. “I assume the kitchen is in this direction?” He nodded his head toward a door.
“Albert, what are you doing here?” His surprise appearance had brought both shock and pleasure at the same moment.
“It appears I’m here to help replace this pot of soup.” He grinned.
“You know what I mean. How did you find me here?”
“When I received your note, I feared I had grossly offended you yesterday by my comment, so I set out to your residence to apologize. Your housekeeper, after a bit of prodding, finally told me where you had gone.”
“Oh, I see.” Charlotte pondered his statement. She decided a slight reprimand would be due Gladys upon her return home. “A dozen red roses would have sufficed with an apologetic note.” Hungry eyes were staring at the two of them, so Charlotte quickly changed the subject. “Follow me then.” She led Albert toward the kitchen, and a few of the staff turned their heads and eyed him up and down in his finery. Overdressed for the occasion of soup scooping, Charlotte didn’t quite know what to do. “The pot is empty.” Albert set it down on a side table.
“There’s one on the stove ready to go,” the cook replied. “I’ll bring it out straightaway.”
“So why did you come here, Albert? I find it strange, knowing how you fear for your life in this part of London.”
He shuffled in his stance while glancing at the site of a tattered and dirty room full of people, waiting for nourishment. “Because I wish to understand better the woman you have become.”
Charlotte scoffed. “I doubt anyone can truly understand me.” After pausing a moment, she studied Albert with his furrowed brow, betraying how he felt about the surroundings. Thankfully, a rat hadn’t scurried across his fine footwear. “Why don’t we meet tomorrow, and we can discuss it further?”
He turned, and a note of relief relaxed his worried facial lines. “Yes, the park perhaps? We could take a leisurely ride in a rowboat on the water. Would that suit you?”
A rowboat. Charlotte wanted to roll her eyes at his suggestion but curbed her disappointment as she thought of drowning him to rid herself of the contest. “Shall I meet you at Hyde Park around one o’clock at the boat docks?” she suggested.
“One o’clock it is,” he replied with a smile.
“Coming through,” the cook declared, carrying the next pot of steaming-hot sustenance.
“Well, I must feed the hungry,” Charlotte announced, turning from Albert. By the uneasiness in his stance, he was ready to leave.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he replied. For a moment Charlotte watched him depart, questioning why he bothered to seek her out when he couldn’t stand being in Whitechapel. It made no sense.
The line continued for the next hour, and Charlotte’s feet ached. When she took a second to wiggle her toes in her shoes, another bowl was shoved in her direction.
“Soup?”
A little girl in a tattered dress with dirty hands held the bowl. Her wild blond hair, filled with nits, matted together in greasy strands. It appeared she hadn’t bathed in months, but she had bright blue eyes and the face of an angel.
“Here you go, sweetie,” Charlotte replied. Captain Brown came to Charlotte’s side and spoke in a low tone.
“The poor thing lost her mother a few days ago to typhus,” he sadly announced. “We are trying to make arrangements at the orphanage.”
“Oh dear Lord,” Charlotte moaned. “No father?”
“Gone... dead... no one knows.”
Charlotte watched the poor girl carry her bowl to a table and sit down. “I don’t know how you handle the daily wretchedness of the plight of the poor. It breaks my heart, and I’m only here once a month. There is so much more I could do.”
“No one person can take it upon themselves, Lady Rutherford. We are most appreciative of the time you spend with us and your donations. We are all soldiers of one kind or another, carrying on the Lord’s work.”
“What’s the little girl’s name?”
“Lily,” the captain replied. His eyes sparkled as he watched her at the table. “She’s a pretty little flower, isn’t she?”
The child appeared about six years of age. A tear trickled down Charlotte’s cheek.
“Now, now, enough of that,” Captain Brown said, taking the ladle from Charlotte’s hand. “Why don’t you take a break for a few minutes and wipe away those tears.”
Not protesting, Charlotte stepped away. It had been an emotional afternoon. Thankfully, Albert hadn’t seen her weaknesses. Unable to leave Lily on her own, Charlotte joined the little girl and sat down next to her as she slurped her soup.
“Hello, my name is Charlotte. What’s your name, sweetheart?” The little girl stopped and glanced up.
“I’m Lily.”
“Lily is such a pretty name. Do you know you are named after a beautiful flower?”
“No, ma’am. What’s a lily look like?”
“Well, someday I will have to show you.”
The little girl’s big blue eyes watered as she spoke. “Me mum died.” Her voice quavered.
“I know, darling, and I’m so sorry. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. Just me.”
Charlotte put her arm around Lily’s shoulder, pondering the child’s future. It would not be a pleasant one. Most orphanage institutions were as terrible as the poor houses. As her eyes glanced around the room at the bleak surroundings and hopeless souls, Charlotte wanted to do more than merely pour soup into a bowl. Perhaps she had found the answer.
