The following morning, with all her meager belongings stuffed into a burlap potato sack, she clambered into a hansom cab and headed to the club. Saying farewell to the children had been remarkably hard, but she’d promised to return on the morrow for a short visit. The ones she’d acquired the night before had settled in well. She knew the sisters would take good care of them.
When next she visited, she’d bring all the children sweets. After that, shoes. As her finances allowed, she’d provide them with clothing, something new and special to wear to church on Sundays. Eventually she’d purchase a multiroom residence so she could care for more children. She would live there with them and travel to the club each day. Her partnership with Finn would provide her with the means to do the things she wanted, but it wouldn’t be her main focus. No, that would always remain the children who were in need of love and care.
Her excitement was far greater than what she’d experienced when she’d managed to successfully escape the church in search of a life with more meaning. The future potential for fulfillment was extraordinary. Her imagination wasn’t keen enough to envision all the possibilities, but she would be an independent woman, free to do as she pleased. She’d experienced a measure of freedom during the past three months, but it hadn’t been complete because of her limited circumstances, but now because of Finn’s kindness she’d soon have financial freedom and found the notion exhilarating. She would repay him by working diligently to help ensure his business became the success he envisioned. His dream was allowing her to realize hers.
She had to wonder—if her parents hadn’t interfered on that fateful night, would she and Finn have been working together to achieve their dreams... or would they have merely settled into a life where she learned to darn his stockings while he continued being in the employ of a horse slaughterer? Her desires then now seemed so small. Content merely to be with him, she’d truly given no thought to what would have come after they married, how they might have survived, carried on. In truth, she’d been rather naïve, a realization brought home after spending three months away from the aristocracy. She’d truly not known what to expect. Would the girl she’d been back then have been disappointed by the reality? She preferred to think not, preferred believing she’d have embraced her life and made the best of it, but a small part of her wasn’t convinced she’d have possessed the maturity to handle what life would have expected of her.
When the cab came to a halt outside the club, she was surprised to see Finn standing on the steps, dressed as any gentleman, particularly a successful one, would be in a black jacket and gray waistcoat, with his white neck cloth perfected knotted. For an insane minute, fear ratcheted through her, and she nearly told the driver to carry on. Finn had been handsome enough as a young man, but as a mature one he was devastatingly so. She feared she might find herself falling for him all over again, and that was bound to bring up an ugliness in her past she didn’t wish to revisit.
If she were wise, she’d seek another means for making her own way. Now that her brother was no longer searching for her, she could possibly find a position as a teacher, a governess, or a companion to a woman of means, but she had to admit to being caught up in his excitement regarding what this place could become—and what it would mean for the ladies of her acquaintance to have a venue that could offer them entertainments, even if they had no beaux to escort them around.
So she waited, while he approached, tossed money up to the driver, opened her door, and offered his hand.
“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind,” he said as he helped her down.
“It took me longer to say goodbye to the children than I’d expected.”
“You can see them anytime.”
“I know, but they’ve been a major part of my days for a few months now, and I theirs. I have no doubt, however, we’ll all adjust.”
He relieved her of her pitiful little sack. She strove for a witty comeback should he comment on it, but instead he merely led her up the steps and into the club. His club. Her club. Their club.
“My solicitor’s here, in our office, with the papers you’re to sign.”
Our office.Our.Business arrangement. It would be nothing more than that.
The solicitor was a kindly looking gent. He was sitting behind Finn’s desk—or at least she assumed it was Finn’s; a second one rested in the room now, placed before the other window, hers possibly. As she entered, he stood.
“Mr. Charles Beckwith,” Finn said by way of introduction. “Miss Lavinia Kent.”
She hoped her eyes expressed her gratitude that he’d not referred to her asLady. They’d not discussed how she was to be addressed, but she was discovering Finn was a keen observer and didn’t need everything explained to him. She wondered what else about her that he might notice had changed.
“Miss Kent,” Mr. Beckwith said with a polite bowing of his head, his blue eyes peering at her through spectacles that made him seem incredibly knowledgeable, before sweeping his hand over the papers scattered on the desk. “Shall we get to work?”
If he knew her true identity, who her family might be, he gave no indication, but simply began explaining the terms of the agreement. “Thirty percent of all profits go to you. Upon your death, any future earnings that would have come your way, instead of being reverted back to Mr. Trewlove here, will be placed in a trust for use by the Sisters of Mercy Foundling Home, located at...”
She stopped paying attention to his words, but instead stared at Finn. “You can’t mean to continue this arrangement beyond my death, to give them money, surely.”
He was leaning with his hip against his desk, one foot crossed in front of the other, his arms folded over his chest. He shrugged. “I took a guess. You can name a different benefactor at any time.”
“And if you die?”
Looking at Beckwith, he arched a brow.
“Twenty-one percent of the business will be transferred into your name, giving you a total of fifty-one percent ownership,” Mr. Beckwith explained. “Forty-nine percent of all future profits will go into a trust for the Trewlove Foundling Home.”
The Trewlove Foundling Home? She had questions about that, but they could wait. She was struck by something that seemed much more important. “Why are you giving part of the business to me?”
“Because by the time I go toes-up, which I’m planning to be a goodly number of years from now, you will have poured a great deal of yourself into the business. I want you to be able to manage it without any interference from my siblings. They’d be well-meaning, but they can be a pushy lot. The Elysium Club will become whatever you and I envisioned it to be, worked hard to make it be. I want you to be able to carry on with it. There’s also a provision that, should you marry, your portion goes into a trust, so your husband can’t get his hands on it.”
“I’ve no plans to ever marry.”
“Better to have and not need, Miss Kent,” Mr. Beckwith said, “than to need and not have.”
“I’m not comfortable with so much coming to me,” she said.
“And I’m not comfortable with it going into a trust that will be overseen by someone who won’t give two figs about the place,” Finn said. “Just sign the papers. We can work out any particulars later and have it amended. For the moment, I want you to know I’m going into this with full faith in you.”
