The Kiss of a Viscount (The Daughters of the Aristocracy) (8 page)

Elizabeth regarded the peacock feathered bonnet she still held, admiring the workmanship and deciding it would be a good match for her teal carriage gown. “I think I will buy this,” she commented, nodding her head in the direction of the man at the counter.

Charlotte seemed surprised by the choice. “A bit ... daring, don’t you suppose?” she wondered with an elegantly arched eyebrow.

Smiling, Elizabeth nodded and strolled up to the counter. “Yes. And it’s about time I was,” she answered in a whisper. She directed her attention to the shop owner. “Put this on my father’s account, won’t you, Mr. Peabody?” The words were out of her mouth before she could slip him the money from her reticule without Charlotte noticing. Had Elizabeth been alone, she would have paid for the bonnet out of pin money. With Charlotte next to her, though, she dared not. She could always come back and pay for the bonnet later.

The shopkeeper set aside his newspaper and nodded at Elizabeth Carlington. “Of course, Lady Elizabeth,” he said with a hesitant smile. “Should I deliver it, or will you want to take it with you?”

Charlotte stepped up to the counter. “Oh, let’s do take it with us. And this one, too,” she said as she placed the dark blue riding bonnet on the counter. “If our mothers are to believe we went shopping this afternoon, we’ll need to come home with
something
.”

Mr. Peabody nodded. “As you wish, Lady Charlotte.”

As the shopkeeper wrapped the bonnets in tissue and placed them in pasteboard boxes, Charlotte wandered toward the front of the store. Glancing out the window nearest the door, she noticed their maids flirting with a groom and tiger who were standing ready next to a rather new town coach. She was reminded of the day before yesterday, when she and her mother, Lady Ellsworth, had called at Carlington House. Although Lady Morganfield invited them to have tea with her in the parlor, Elizabeth wasn’t in residence at the time.

Elizabeth retrieved the two boxes from Mr. Peabody and moved to join Charlotte. A nattily dressed gentlemen held the door for them as they made their way out. “Thank you, sir,” Elizabeth said with a nod as she passed the man, whose face was hidden by the brim of his beaver as he bowed.

“Where
were
you the day before yesterday?” Charlotte wondered as she stepped past the man, nodding her thanks as she did so and moving to stand in front of the window of the shop next door. Her attention was drawn to a reticule in the women’s accessory shop window. “Mother and I called on your mother, and even she seemed surprised you weren’t yet home from morning calls.” The shorter woman had wandered onto the next shop window, admiring a row of brightly colored silk fabrics displayed much like a rainbow.

Elizabeth realized Charlotte was asking about the period of time when she would have been at the Bank of England, bribing Mr. Whitaker to offer Mr. Streater the clerking position. She wondered how much to tell her friend. Her first foray into arranging a position for a wounded soldier had been successful, but the how of it wasn’t something she felt comfortable sharing, even with her best friend. If Charlotte somehow found out about her charity, though, she would be hurt to discover Elizabeth hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her about it from its start.

Elizabeth pulled a pasteboard from her reticule and held it out to Charlotte. “I have started my new charity, ‘Finding Work for the Wounded.’ I placed my first client the day before yesterday,” she explained in a lowered voice. “And I just interviewed two more gentlemen this morning. I am thinking of hiring them to help me with my venture.”

One of Charlotte’s eyebrows arched up as she regarded the large script ‘Lady E and Associates’ in the middle of the card. ‘Finding Work for the Wounded’ was centered below the ‘Lady E’, and below that, an address was listed. “You started your own
charity
?” Charlotte asked in surprise, rereading the text and the address on the calling card. “Elizabeth! This is ... this is very
worthy
,” she got out before biting her lower lip with a tooth. “Is Lord Morganfield your associate? Did he provide assistance in arranging this ... 30 Oxford Street location?” she asked, glancing between the card and Elizabeth.

Her friend sighed, suddenly afraid that most would jump to the same conclusion. “My father knows
nothing
of this. At least, I have not told him of it.” At Charlotte’s soft gasp, Elizabeth added, “I want to prove that I can do this before I tell him,” she explained quickly. “And before I ask for an increase in my allowance.” It would be some time before Theodore Streater would be able reimburse the charity. She would need more funds before she could hope to place any more men into positions.

Charlotte gasped again. “You’re using your own
pin
money? Whatever for?” she asked, a bit alarmed. A lady of the
ton
could align herself with a multitude of charities, but their patrons generally held soirées to generate operating funds.

“Rent,” Elizabeth responded with a nod. “I’ve let a street-level office from a solicitor in Oxford. I intend to keep regular hours, perhaps ten to one. But there are so many expenses, Lottie. Writing paper, ink, postal costs.” She paused a moment, deciding not to add
bribes
to the list. “I never knew it would be so difficult to convince employers to hire our wounded soldiers.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Now that the war is over, there are a large number of soldiers looking for work. It must be hard for all of them. I hear some must
pay
to gain a position.” Her attention was once again drawn to where their maids hovered a few feet away, the girls’ attentions still on the groom and tiger who were posted near their master’s very new town coach and four matched Cleveland Bays next to the sidewalk.

Elizabeth considered a reason an employer might charge a new employee – it guaranteed the new hire would report to work and perform the task in a manner satisfactory to the employer.

She realized it wasn’t such a preposterous idea after all.

However, the wounded men she’d been helping didn’t have any funds from which to pay to gain employment. Most were quite poor. And those who sought positions as clerks needed a good suit of clothes, boots or shoes, and a haircut in order to appear professional enough for their interviews. “So, when I placed my first client at the Bank of England two days ago, it cost me twenty guineas,” she finally admitted, needing to tell
someone
of her success, although at the moment, success felt as if it came with too large a cost. She didn’t need to look at Charlotte to know her friend was stunned by the news.

“Oh, Elizabeth,” Charlotte breathed, her gloved hand moving to the top of her bosom and pressing hard against the dark blue pelisse she wore. Charlotte took another breath, the look of shock on her face so apparent Elizabeth thought she might faint. “Why so
much
?”

Elizabeth felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. “My client ... he ... he is missing an arm,” she finally got out. “But he writes with his left hand and was a clerk with the bank
before
he joined the army to fight the French.” Pausing to blink a couple of times and gather herself, she added, “I have a woodworker making him an arm ..”

Charlotte’s eyes widened again. “An
arm
?” she repeated, sounding as astonished as she looked.

“So there will be something to put in his
sleeve
,” Elizabeth clarified in a hoarse whisper. “With a hand of sorts attached at the end. It will be covered with a glove, of course, so it should not be so ... noticeable,” she added, hoping she was making sense. “The thing of it is,
all
of my clients have some sort of evident wound or impairment that makes it impossible for them to land jobs for which they were perfectly suited to do before the war.”

Charlotte shook her head. “This is going to cost you a fortune!”

Elizabeth nodded in a way that indicated she had come to the same conclusion. “I expect it will at first. But I have decided on a way to help pay for some of it. As these men make their wages, they are to give some back. To reimburse the kitty, so to speak, and provide the funds necessary for the next man in line to land a position.”

Her friend regarded her for a very long time. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, haven’t you?” she asked rhetorically, a bit surprised that a woman such as Elizabeth Carlington could come up with such a novel idea for funding a charity. “If Joshua wasn’t a duke, he might have need of your charity, I expect,” she said solemnly, her gaze on something far away.

Frowning, Elizabeth considered her friend’s comment. “He was not wounded in the war,” she replied, realizing there were others out there like Joshua Wainwright who had wounds that prevented them from being able to easily reenter society. “But I think I could see my way to make an exception for situations such as his,” she added thoughtfully.

“Oh, Elizabeth,” Charlotte sighed, “I do hope this works for you. For your ... clients.”

Shrugging, Elizabeth sighed. “Me, too.”

At least Theodore Streater was employed. He had sent a note saying he had finished his first day at the bank, and it was as if he had never left his position to join the army. This morning, when she had met with the two ex-soldiers she planned to hire as her assistants, she had been assured there were more wounded who wanted an audience with her. And given the nature of her charity, news would spread amongst those who had served together. Soon there would be several in the office everyday.

Elizabeth wondered how long it would be before the Earl of Trenton learned of her charity. And would he be obliged to help her continue her work should they marry, perhaps even agreeing to fund the enterprise?

He could certainly afford to do so.

Or would Gabriel require that she turn her venture over to someone else to manage? Perhaps assuring her that she could continue her participation in a less active role? Or, worst of all, would he require she stop the charity altogether, claiming that it didn’t suit a lady of the
ton
to be associated with crippled men?

Given she hardly knew the man, she could not begin to guess how Gabriel Wellingham would react to the news.

So, until she knew otherwise, she decided it would better if she did not tell him.

“Good afternoon, Neville,” George Bennett-Jones said in greeting as he made his way to the back of the hat shop.

“Ah, George,” the shopkeeper said as he looked up from the counter. He held a quill in one hand. “Fine day, no?”

George grinned as his gaze swept the store to find no other shoppers inside. “Yes, very. And it was made even finer by those two young ladies who just departed. It looks as if they spent some blunt,” he said in a conversational manner, hoping the man would share some information. He removed several coins from his pocket.

“That was the ladies Charlotte Bingham and Elizabeth Carlington. Real beauties, both of them. Both got bonnets,” Neville Peabody commented as he waved to the papers he was filling out.

A quick glance at the counter showed two bills of sale. George saw the top one and noticed the name ‘Lady Elizabeth’. “And charged them to their daddies, I suppose,” George said with a grin.

Neville shrugged. “Yeah. Kind of odd in the case of Lady Elizabeth, though,” he said as he indicated the bill he was completing. “She usually pays with her own blunt.”

Interesting
, George thought to himself. A lady of the
ton
who used her own pin money to pay for her purchases? Except she had probably spent all she had to secure the clerking position for Teddy Streater. “How much for the bonnet Lady Elizabeth purchased?” he asked suddenly, surprising himself with the query.
You cannot buy gifts for young ladies
, he remembered Josie saying when she was teaching him about proper manners. Well, this wasn’t a
gift
, he decided. This was ... well, he didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t a
gift
.

After all, Lady Elizabeth wouldn’t even know he paid for the bonnet.

The shopkeeper gave him a glance before reading the amount on the bill of sale. “Half a crown,” he stated. “It was green velvet and had peacock feathers,” he added, as if that was supposed to justify the cost of the bonnet.

George tossed a coin onto the counter, wondering if he would ever see the bonnet perched on Lady Elizabeth’s head. “I’d like to pay for it,” he said as he motioned toward the bill of sale. “As a ... ‘thank you’ ... for something she did ... for a friend,” he added when he noticed the shopkeeper’s cocked eyebrow. At first, he hadn’t considered the implication of his comment, and now he hoped Neville Peabody wouldn’t spread gossip about his having paid for the bonnet.

His eyebrows cocking in surprise, Neville smiled and handed him the paper. “That’s an awful nice ‘thank you’,” he commented lightly.

Nodding, George agreed. “Well deserved, though. Good day, Neville.”

He pocketed the receipt and left the shop, a bit relieved to see that Lady Elizabeth and Lady Charlotte and their respective maids were no longer nearby. His tiger opened the new town coach door. Quickly stepping up and inside, George gave instructions to the groom to head for Bostwick Place.

Lady Elizabeth bid farewell to Lady Charlotte as her friend and maid took their leave of the Carlington town coach. Once the women were safely inside the Ellsworth townhouse, Elizabeth knocked on the trap door in the ceiling of the coach. The groom opened the door and peered down. “Where to next, milady?” he wondered.

“Back to New Bond Street, Jackson. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten to buy a gift for a dear friend,” she lied. She needed to get back to the hat shop where she’d purchased the bonnet and pay Mr. Peabody before he sent the bill to her father.

Her father had been giving her a monthly allowance for the very purpose of paying for frippery such as bonnets. And he had done so to prevent – how had be put it? – “being inundated with bills from merchants all over town.”

Unlike most members of the
ton
, David Carlington did not like credit, which meant he did not like having purchases put onto bills of sales for payment at a later date. It also meant he had to carry some blunt and provide his wife and daughter with pin money to pay for their purchases.

Wanting to ensure she paid the bill before Mr. Peabody had a chance to send it by post or courier, Elizabeth’s intention was to return to the shop and offer cash payment immediately in return for the receipt. When she reached the shop, however, Mr. Peabody was quite surprised to see her.

“I ain’t got the receipt, Lady Elizabeth,” he said with a shake of his head when she asked to pay the bill.