Lady Edwina Grosvenor Fight for Children of Prisoners

Published: 25 January 2026. The English Chronicle Desk. The English Chronicle Online

Lady Edwina Grosvenor grew up surrounded by extraordinary wealth, historic estates, and a family name synonymous with privilege. Yet her life’s work has been shaped not by palaces or power, but by prisons, forgotten children, and a justice system she believes routinely fails those with the least voice. Now, through a pioneering university scholarship programme, she is seeking to challenge what she calls the “complete scandal” of how children affected by crime are stigmatised and left behind.

Born into the Grosvenor family, one of Britain’s richest dynasties, Lady Edwina might easily have remained insulated from hardship. Instead, as a teenager, she spent time on work experience with a charity in north Wales that supported mothers at risk of losing their children. The experience, she recalls, was eye-opening and unsettling. It forced her to confront lives shaped by instability, fear, and judgment, worlds far removed from her upbringing on the family’s 11,000-acre Cheshire estate.

That experience followed an earlier formative moment arranged by her late father, Gerald Grosvenor, the sixth Duke of Westminster. While still young, Lady Edwina was taken with her sisters to meet two heroin addicts at a drug treatment centre in Liverpool. The visit was meant as a warning about addiction, yet it also revealed the human cost of crime and punishment. Those encounters planted the seeds of a lifelong commitment to criminal justice reform.

Her interest deepened after travelling in Nepal, where she worked inside Kathmandu’s Central Jail. By the time she returned to Britain, she says she had been “bitten by the prison bug”. Academic study followed. She completed a degree in criminology and sociology, focusing her dissertation on babies born in prison and later separated from their mothers, an experience she describes as both harrowing and motivating.

From that point, Lady Edwina embarked on a career that combined philanthropy, advocacy, and at times sharp criticism of successive governments. Her work has consistently centred on women in the justice system and their children, groups she believes have been marginalised for decades. In 2023, she opened Hope Street, a women’s centre designed as an alternative to custody. The centre supports women offenders while allowing them to maintain relationships with their children, aiming to break cycles of trauma rather than reinforce them. Lady Edwina hopes the model will be replicated nationwide as part of efforts to reduce female incarceration.

Her latest initiative targets another overlooked group, children and young people whose lives have been shaped by the justice system. Through a new scholarship programme launched in partnership with Manchester Metropolitan University, Lady Edwina aims to support young people who were born to parents in prison, grew up visiting prisons, or have criminal convictions themselves. The scheme will fund nine students initially, offering financial help alongside dedicated pastoral support.

“The children of prisoners are usually forgotten more than any other group I can think of in this country, and it’s a complete scandal,” she said. Shame, she argues, often defines these young lives. Many grow up hiding family histories, struggling to find peers who understand their experiences, and facing systemic barriers long before they make choices of their own.

There is no official data on how many children in Britain are affected by parental imprisonment, a gap Lady Edwina believes reflects institutional indifference. What is known paints a bleak picture. Many of these children enter care. Educational outcomes remain among the worst of any social group. Government figures show that only 13 per cent of pupils who spent at least a year in care progress to higher education, compared with 43 per cent of other pupils.

For Lady Edwina, those numbers represent squandered potential rather than inevitable failure. She speaks of young people stepping out of the shadows, finding others with similar experiences, and discovering that their past need not dictate their future. Education, she believes, offers a route not just to employment but to dignity and belonging.

The Manchester Metropolitan partnership carries personal significance. Lady Edwina completed a master’s degree there in her forties, studying crime scene management and forensic evidence. Under the new scheme, the university will appoint a dedicated staff member to support scholarship recipients and other students affected by the justice system, recognising that emotional and social support often proves as vital as financial aid.

The programme also extends to young offenders who have served sentences and now seek a second chance. Lady Edwina argues that society is too quick to write them off, even after punishment has been completed. In her view, institutions have a moral responsibility to help individuals rebuild their lives rather than perpetuate exclusion.

One student, identified as Emma, described how a criminal record became a barrier to nearly every aspect of life after growing up in care. Returning to study at Manchester Met transformed her prospects. Through academic community and support, she encountered what criminologists describe as “desistance theory”, the idea that strong social bonds, purpose, and recognition help people move away from crime. For Emma, university provided precisely that environment.

Lady Edwina believes such stories remain poorly understood by the public and by policymakers. She calls for basic education about prisons and rehabilitation to be taught in schools, challenging stereotypes that portray all former prisoners as inherently dangerous. Such misconceptions, she argues, deter employers from hiring ex-offenders and reinforce cycles of exclusion.

She recounts conversations with employers who discovered that hiring people from prison can offer unexpected transparency. Employers know where individuals have been and what they have done, she notes, while people without convictions can conceal far more. A criminal record, in her view, does not automatically equate to greater risk.

This lack of understanding, she suggests, extends even to those shaping justice policy. Many decision-makers, she says, have limited exposure to prisons themselves, weakening the quality of reform. While reserving judgment on current proposals, including shorter custodial sentences and potential limits on jury trials, she expresses scepticism until changes translate into real improvements on the ground.

She is more forthright about recent plans to cut education funding in prisons, describing reductions of up to 50 per cent in some institutions as a backward step. Education, she insists, stabilises prisons and reduces violence, benefiting both inmates and the wider public. Without it, prisons become more dangerous, and the likelihood of reoffending rises once prisoners are released.

Lady Edwina characterises the justice system as an “expensive failure” after decades of neglect. With the vast majority of prisoners eventually returning to society, she argues that prison conditions directly affect public safety. Stability inside prisons, she says, protects communities outside them.

Married to historian and broadcaster Dan Snow, Lady Edwina occupies a rare position bridging elite circles and grassroots reform. Her work has earned respect across political lines, yet she remains blunt about priorities. Justice, she argues, lacks the protection afforded to health or education when budgets tighten, leaving it vulnerable to cuts that undermine long-term outcomes.

The Lady Edwina Grosvenor Scholarships will welcome their first students in September 2026. For her, success will not be measured solely in degrees awarded, but in whether young people feel able to walk into a university without shame, secrecy, or fear.

Education, she insists, should belong to everyone. For children shaped by prisons and punishment, that belief represents not charity, but justice.