Lois Menzel (3 page)

“I hesitate to criticize your aunt, Anne, but she is taking advantage of you. Can’t you see it?”

“I need to pay my way here, Ruth. I will not live on charity.”

“But you are more than paying your way. You are doing the work of two seamstresses and teaching French as well. In return you are receiving room and board. You should be receiving a wage besides. And another thing. Have you not wondered why it is that your aunt has not discovered any position for you?”

“I’m certain she is doing her best.”

“I would not be so sure. Why
should
she try when it works to her advantage to keep you here with her?”

Anne refused to believe her aunt was exploiting her, but Ruth had planted the seeds of doubt. When next an opportunity arose, Anne asked her aunt if she had heard of any companion positions.

“As a matter of fact, my dear, I have. My friend Sally Shelton told me of an acquaintance of hers who is seeking a companion. I have written a note to the lady and am waiting to hear from her. There is also old Mrs. Humbel who lives just down the street. Her companion is engaged to be married, and will no doubt be leaving her soon. I thought I would speak with Mrs. Humbel about you. I must admit, however, that I have been wondering if you would consider staying on here with us. During these weeks we have come to regard you as one of the family. The girls are so fond of you, too.”

This was the very invitation Anne had been hoping to hear since the day she arrived at the Hodders’. Now that it had finally been offered her, she hesitated to accept. She had nothing truly critical to say of her aunt and uncle, nor of the treatment she had received since coming to live with them. Yet somehow she knew she could not continue with them indefinitely. She could not envision herself as the inveterate poor relation. If she could secure a position, she would earn her own wage, and even though she knew it would not be much—it would be hers.

Back in the schoolroom, monogramming a handkerchief for her Uncle Hodder, she asked Ruth, “What is a seamstress paid, do you think?”

“I imagine very little. But I once knew a skilled language tutor who earned fifty pounds a year—and that was only for one student, one language. You also know German and Latin.”

“But I am a woman,” Anne replied. “I cannot seek a position as a tutor.”

“If your aunt should arrange an interview for you,” Ruth asked, “what will you wear?”

“My blue gown is the best I have.”

Her friend frowned. “Do you think you could justify some new lace or ribbon? A bit of trim would improve it dramatically, I think.” When Anne looked doubtful, Ruth hurried on. “I am taking Victoria to some of the shops this afternoon. Come with us and see what you can find. Who can say? You may discover something quite reasonable.”

Several hours later the three strolled down Oxford Street to its junction with Bond Street. A walk of less than half a mile brought them to the shops south of Grafton. While Ruth and Victoria stopped at Asprey’s, drawn in by a handsome dressing case in the window that Victoria admired, Anne went on a few doors to a milliner’s that offered, among other goods, a large variety of dress trimming.

She had little money left and was loath to part with it, knowing that when it was gone, she had no way to replace it. Yet somehow the thought of being forever dependent on her relatives outweighed her reticence, and she looked over the goods with interest. She would refurbish the blue gown as Ruth suggested and try to look her best as she sought a position.

She selected some wide ribbon, reasonably priced, she felt, for the quality. She decided to buy enough to put two full rows at the hem of her gown. Remembering that her bonnet ribbon was much worn, she chose a length for that as well, concluding her purchases with two straw flowers to tuck under the band to add a bit of color. A woman at the counter cut the ribbon lengths she requested, then wrapped Anne’s goods in a small bundle. After paying for her purchases, Anne smiled pleasantly then turned to leave. Before she had taken even one step, the woman behind the counter spoke, loudly enough for all the customers in the shop to hear.

“D’you plan on payin’ for them furbelows, ma’am?”

Anne looked about curiously, as did most of the people present, wondering to whom the woman was speaking so loudly. She was profoundly shocked to find the shopkeeper staring at her.

“Excuse me,” she said doubtfully. “Were you speaking to me?”

“Indeed I was, ma’am. And what I asked was, do you mean to pay for them ribbons, or just take ’em  without payin’?”

Thoroughly confused and more than a little embarrassed, Anne stepped back to the counter and laid her parcel down. She lowered her voice, hoping the shopkeeper would do the same. “I paid you—two and fourpence—you gave me change.”

With no diminution in volume the woman returned. “I wrapped you a parcel, ma’am, ribbons and flowers. If you not be willin’ to pay, then I su’pose I must put my stock back on the shelf.”

She reached for the parcel while Anne stood unresponsive. She could not think of a thing to say—did not know what she should do ...

At that precise moment a silver-tipped ebony cane descended on the counter between the two women, nearly landing on the shopkeeper’s fingers as she reached to reclaim the package. The action so startled Anne that she jumped, then turned to see a tall, blond man standing close beside her. His hard, unsmiling face and fierce blue eyes were fixed upon the shopkeeper. The shop had grown deathly quiet; Anne sensed that every eye and ear was attending to them.

“I believe, my good woman,” the gentleman said, “that your memory is lamentably short. I saw this lady pay you. She tendered three shillings; you returned eightpence.”

Anne could not take her eyes from the gentleman, so shocked was she that a stranger had come to her aid. His dress and speech clearly identified him as a person of some standing; a gentleman perhaps in his mid thirties. His voice was pleasant, but though his words were superficially polite, beneath they held a definite challenge. He never looked at Anne, but continued to regard the shopkeeper until she responded.

“This ‘ere be no concern of yours, sir.”

“Unethical business practice is the concern of every good citizen,” he replied.

“Un-e-thi ...? What?” the woman asked.

“Dishonest,” the gentleman clarified.

“Dishonest?” The woman bristled. “This be an honest shop. Ask anyone!”

“That is unnecessary,” he responded, “I have seen with my own eyes just how
honest
it is.” Then, ignoring the blustering woman, he turned his attention for the first time to Anne. “If you will wait here, madam, I will step into the street and seek the direction of the local constable. I will be more than happy to substantiate your claim to this parcel.”

Confronted by those remarkable eyes, situated in a face more handsome than any Anne had ever seen, she found herself unable to respond beyond an affirmative nod. As the gentleman turned deliberately toward the street door, the shopkeeper found a stammering voice.

“J-Just a moment, now, sir. There be no cause to call for the law. It be your word against mine, after all.”

“Not quite,” he returned. “It is your word against mine
and
the lady’s.”

“Very well, then,” the woman responded angrily, “Take the goods, for we all knows the law always sides with Quality. But you needn’t bother bringin’ your trade ‘ere again for—”

“She will not,” the gentleman interrupted. “Nor will I.” Without another word he scooped the parcel from the counter, placed it in Anne’s hands, and turned for the door.

Anne followed him quickly from the shop, knowing she must say something; but once on the street outside, all she could manage was, “Sir?”

He turned, a brow raised in inquiry.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, feeling inept and foolish.

He raised a hand to the brim of his hat in a brief salute. “My pleasure, ma’am,” was all he replied before he turned again and strolled off toward Piccadilly.

Chapter 3

Anne turned and walked the other way as Ruth Marsh and Victoria emerged from Asprey’s. Still rather shaken from her encounter with the unscrupulous shopkeeper, she listened with only half an ear to their chatter.

Ruth smiled when she saw the package in Anne’s hands. “You did find something! I cannot wait to see.”

Anne was eager to tell Ruth about her unusual experience in the milliner’s shop but did not wish Victoria to overhear. It was late that evening before she had an opportunity to relate it.

“How fortunate that the gentleman happened to see you pay,” Ruth said.

“And that he was willing to step forward and say so,” Anne added.

“What would you have done if he had not been there?” Ruth asked curiously.

“I don’t know. Never have I been accused of stealing! I was so bewildered. I could not believe she was speaking to me. If I had tried to take the package, I am certain she would have raised the alarm. Yet to pay a second time would have been to admit she was right—when she was not. It was an impossible situation.”

“What was the gentleman’s appearance?” Ruth asked.

“He was fair and quite tall, taller than my Uncle Hodder. I thought him amazingly handsome.” Remembering the coldness of the gentleman’s eyes as he challenged the shopkeeper, she added, “His eyes were most remarkable ... an uncommon blue, much like a deep lake in late summer.”

When the topic of the handsome stranger had been exhausted, the two women unwrapped Anne’s purchases and planned how they would redecorate her dress.

Once her gown had been refurbished, Anne began a series of employment interviews that had been arranged by her aunt. Of the four interviews she was granted, none was successful. Two prospective employers turned her away for lack of references, one said she was too young, another felt she was too old.

At the end of the week, greatly discouraged, Anne was sitting in her room setting tiny stitches along what seemed to be the endless hem of a sheet when Ruth burst in.

“Anne!” she exclaimed. “I have heard of a position. Or, I should say, Mrs. Crookshank has.”

“My aunt’s cook?” Anne patted the cushion next to her on the small sofa. “Sit down,” she invited, instantly hopeful. “Tell me!”

“It seems Mrs. Crookshank has a cousin who works as a parlor maid to Lord Tenbury. His lordship’s sister-in-law is seeking a governess for her daughter.”

Anne’s face fell. “A governess! But we decided I could not—”

“You could manage this,” Ruth interrupted. “The child is only eight, has barely left her nurse. You could easily teach her, for several years at least.”

“How would I apply for the position?”

“Mrs. Crookshank is planning to visit her cousin tomorrow. She said she would be willing to take a letter and pass it on to his lordship’s butler.”

Anne promptly drafted a request for an interview and sent it with the cook the following day. Two days later she received an answer sent round from Grosvenor Square. When she saw the direction, her hopes faded; no resident of such a lofty address would hire a governess without references.

The letter offered an appointment the following afternoon at two o’clock. She decided she would not go—could not go; then in the next instant asked herself what she had to lose. A little pride, perhaps. “This is no time to let pride control your life, Anne,” she could hear her father say.

* * * *

Lord Tenbury looked up from his morning paper as his secretary entered the study.

“Excuse me, my lord. The agency has referred another applicant for the tutor’s position. I scheduled an appointment for this afternoon.”

“Excellent, Raymond. But don’t bother to bring him to me if he is as addlepated as the last, or as old as the one before him. I am beginning to believe, as Mrs. Saunders does, that there is not a single qualified tutor in this town whom my nephew has not already offended.”

“What of the applicants for governess, sir?”

“I should like you to see them first,” his employer replied. “Those you consider qualified will be interviewed by Mrs. Saunders. She will make the final decision.”

When an unprepossessing, unattended female claiming to be Miss Anne Waverly presented herself at Lord Tenbury’s town house that afternoon, the butler did not hesitate to admit her. He led her across a wide black-and-white tiled hall, past the graceful, curved stairway that ascended to the floors above, and past the closed doors that lined the hall’s perimeter. One set of double doors to a handsome library stood open, but Anne had no more than an instant to glance inside as she passed. The butler preceded her through a door at the rear of the hall, continued the length of a narrow passageway, then opened a door on his left. He stepped aside to allow her to enter as he announced, “Miss Anne Waverly, sir.”

Mr. Raymond rose to his feet and indicated a chair near his desk. “Please, Miss Waverly, won’t you be seated?” Anne seated herself as he continued, “The position Mrs. Saunders seeks to fill is that of governess for her daughter, aged eight.”

Anne had knocked on the mansion’s street door with boldness, determined to convince these people that she was the best possible candidate for the position. But one look at Mr. Raymond’s stern features was enough to weaken her resolve.

“Yes, sir,” she said meekly. “That is the place for which I wish to apply.”

“May I ask how you came to know of it?”

“The governess in my aunt’s house heard of it and informed me.”

“And your aunt is ...?”

“Mrs. Hodder, Oxford Street.”

“Your letter did not mention any previous experience as a governess, Miss Waverly. Have you any?”

“No, sir. I lived with my father until his death last year, but I have an excellent education, and I enjoy children. I believe I could fill the position to Mrs. Saunders’s satisfaction.”

“May I see your references?”

“I have no references, sir, aside from a letter from my uncle, Mr. George
Hodder.”

His raised brows were enough to tell her that a biased opinion from a relative carried little weight with him.