The weekend arrived with a heavy sense of dread for some and anticipation for others. The grand Ellington carriage looked entirely out of place as it came to a stop in front of a simple, clean, but undeniably humble building on the outskirts of the city. As Augusta stepped down onto the dusty road, the driver and footman worked together to carefully place Baron Henry into a wheelchair.
They looked up at the faded wooden sign hanging above the door: "The Needy Orphanage."
Henry turned to his wife, his face a mask of confusion. "Are we in the right place, Augusta?" he asked, his voice weak. "Why would the Duchess want to meet us here?"
They looked around, seeing small groups of children playing in the yard, their laughter bright and cheerful despite their simple, mended clothes. Orphanage staff watched over them with kind, attentive eyes. It was a place of care, but it was a world away from the drawing rooms where such introductions were meant to happen.