#thread: timothy

As a lord, Dominic oversaw his tenants and tried to improve things for them. One way was through charity; providing people with education was his biggest goal, but not everyone could send their children to school. Some needed their children to work the farms or the shops. Anything to lessen the burden. With Hatchard's, Dominic arranged for books to be sent to children who couldn’t attend school. In Ireland, most of the poorer children didn’t attend any school, unless it was a Sunday school run by the church. The rest of the day, he’d seen how the children were busy with work and study. He’d tried to change that. He’d passed a bill in Ireland for more schools to be built, some offering Saturday classes, and it was a success. More children were reading and writing, but not at the level he’d want. London was harder. Dominic didn’t have the influence he’d have in Ireland, so he didn’t have the right backing. He could’ve used his own personal funds, but that was for the family, not for England.

Dominic used whatever resources he could. Local businesses wanting to help were few and far between, but Hatchard’s books agreed. They’d donate books for arithmetic, geography, or anything they could if Dominic would match it in either price or his own donations. He paid 70% of the donations, and the rest would be books from his own personal collection. An agreement that had the shop owner beaming with excitement as Dominic sat his bundle on the counter. One of the books fell, landing on the floor after hitting another on the foot. A page written in Dominic’s own hand was exposed.

'Ceara, an bhean le croí álainn agus intinn ghéar. Is mise, Dominic.’

He didn’t need to see the cover to know it was a botanical book he’d picked up shortly before he’d ended things with Ceara. Thankfully, his inscription was written in Irish. “My apologies,” he said to Timothy, who the book had landed in front of. “An unfortunate accident that I don’t plan on replicating. Is your foot well?”