The rally seemed peaceful enough as she exited the carriage. People were making their way toward a small platform. Many were talking quietly with each other. When they saw Leorah and Nicholas walking their way, they stared, and several of the bluestockings that Leorah had encountered at other rallies acknowledged her.
Leorah went over and began speaking with the ladies, and one said, “Did you hear? Hannah More is to be present. They say she will be speaking and announcing the opening of a new school for girls in the building behind us.”
While Leorah absorbed this news, Nicholas began talking with a small group of men who had escorted the ladies hence—fathers and brothers, some of whom appeared none too happy to be there.
A few minutes later, one young lady looked up and whispered, “Is that the viscount?”
Leorah turned to see Lord Withinghall stepping out of a large black carriage, a much smaller splint on his injured leg, while supporting himself with two walking sticks.
What was he doing here? At a rally for girls’ education? His leg had not had time to heal, according to the doctors, and she had not seen him up and walking since the accident.
Nicholas approached him and they talked. Leorah wished she knew what they were saying.
“It’s her! Hannah More! She’s here!”
An older lady with white hair, strong features, and a sharp eye, Hannah More was indeed striding toward the stage. Leorah had met her once at a rally just outside of London, but she did not imagine Miss More remembered her.
Lord Withinghall and Nicholas began walking toward the stage, slowly, to accommodate the viscount’s slow pace. Leorah pretended not to see them and turned to watch Hannah More step onto the stage and prepare to speak.
Leorah tried to listen to the adored authoress as she enumerated the benefits of a proper education for girls, no matter their social or economic status. She also spoke of the evil results of a frivolous education—embroidery, manners, a smattering of modern languages, music, and painting—which are a shallow mind and a superficiality that women were often accused of and berated for.
Leorah truly wished to support the school. Girls of the lower and middle classes needed a way to better themselves, and to earn a way of supporting themselves as teachers or in whatever other profession for which they might educate themselves. And how could they do this without a school?
Was Lord Withinghall in agreement with his adored Miss Hannah More? Did he support a school for middle-class girls? Or was he there to criticize the effort and agree with most men of the aristocracy that girls of the lower classes needed no academic education, that women should marry and stay at home, keeping house and caring for children?
She turned her head and watched him. He was nearly a head taller than anyone around him, even Nicholas. And he was turning to glance at her at the very same moment, so their eyes met.
Leorah quickly looked away. Why was the man here? Was he only attending the rally because of his adoration for Miss Hannah More?
Miss More spoke on for several more minutes and then began asking, “Who amongst us would be willing to contribute to the education of the girls of this village? Who would sacrifice so that these girls might have a better life, a more enlightened and vigorous and useful life?”
Leorah had some money in her small purse, a few months’ pin money that she had been saving for just such an occasion. When Miss Hannah More herself held out a small wooden box, Leorah stepped forward with her money in her hand and placed it inside. Others stepped forward too, but only a few of the fifty or more people in attendance.
Most of those in the crowd were probably the family members of the girls who hoped to attend the school. None of them looked any too wealthy.
“I pledge one thousand pounds.”
Leorah turned to see who had spoken. People gasped. Lord Withinghall stepped forward.
“Lord Withinghall.” Hannah More gave him a respectful bow. “That is very generous and will be gratefully accepted by the well-qualified teachers who are prepared to move into the building just behind me. With your contribution, they can begin classes as early as next week.”
The viscount bowed his head as everyone began murmuring and then clapping their hands.
“How wonderful!” one of the young ladies stated. “A viscount who cares about the education of young village girls.”
“Astonishing,” said another.
Leorah was too surprised to speak. She stared at Lord Withinghall until he looked at her and nodded. She nodded back.
Leorah sighed as she perused the guest list. Nicholas and Julia had invited quite a few people for a house party, including Miss Augusta Norbury and her aunt. Some of the guests might stay a month or more at such events, but Leorah hoped Augusta would not stay nearly that long.
A month or even a fortnight was a long time to have to share her house with so many people, some of them virtual strangers. But at least she had Felicity, Elizabeth, and Julia to lessen the tedium of the more tiresome guests. And Lord Withinghall had returned to his own home on the other side of the county after the rally, so it had been several days since she’d seen him. He would, of course, be at the party in order to court Miss Norbury and put to rest any rumors about himself and Leorah.
Ever since the rally she had wanted to ask the viscount why on earth he had given such a large sum of money for a girls’ school. Was it simply to impress his favorite author, Miss Hannah More? It must undoubtedly be that, for she could not believe he was so interested in the education of girls.
Lord Withinghall was such a confusing, exasperating creature! Even more so than most men, to whom she rarely gave a second thought.
As the maid brushed her hair and began arranging it for dinner, Leorah stared at herself in the mirror while listening to Felicity and Elizabeth talking in their bedchamber next door. She had much rather devote herself to her two friends and her sister-in-law than entertain so many guests. But it was all in the name of trying to repair her reputation.
The men would spend their time shooting and riding, and the women would stroll around the gardens, read, gossip, and do fancy needlework. There would be two formal balls, for which they would invite the gentry of the surrounding area, and there would be card playing and music every night. She should be looking forward to it, or at least not dreading it, but something bothered her. Leorah couldn’t quite surmise where to lay the blame.