by Sahara Kelly
The young woman met her gaze with a troubled look. “He had me on the floor, practically naked and was on top of me. But thankfully my maid appeared, screamed, and at last my aunt deigned to intervene.” She gave a short humourless laugh. “She chided Sir Daughtry as if he were a naughty boy. I was told to get up and cover myself and not act like a woman of loose virtue.”
“But…but...”
“Quite.” Harriet’s lips firmed. “That night I made it quite plain that I would never consent to marriage with that beast. Since I had attained my majority just prior to this event, they knew they could not force me to wed, but during the ensuing argument, my aunt let slip that my money had gone. They depended on me to make a financially acceptable match to replenish their coffers.”
Letitia knew this was not unheard of. Money ruled far too many decisions within the aristocracy, as far as she was concerned. She’d watched Edmund and his wife, Rosaline, as they struggled to rebuild an all-but-bankrupt estate, and it was not an easy task.
“And the whore part?” She had to ask.
“Well, perhaps that was a little dramatic of me. We attended a ball at the Montrose House three weeks ago. There, I was introduced to a Mr. Seton-Mowbray.” She paused. “I will admit he was a handsome man, with sharply defined features and an elegant countenance. But his eyes…they were the coldest blue I’ve ever seen. He looked me over as one would a horse at auction.”
“Oh how horrid.” Letitia listened intently.
“Barely a bow, certainly no smile or any indication that he entertained an interest. And then, as we were departing, he approached my uncle and merely nodded. That was all. I thought nothing of it until we arrived home. Then I was told that Mr. Seton-Mowbray was interested in taking me into his protection.”
“You have lived through some interesting times, I see.” Letitia realized her words were an abysmal understatement of matters.
“You have the right of it. Anyway,” Harriet went on, “not to put too fine a point on it, I was sent to his house, unaccompanied, and told to do whatever he wanted. Otherwise they would have me declared insane and committed to Bedlam.”
“My God, could they do that?”
Harriet snorted. “I didn’t want to find out.”
“I can’t blame you. What happened with Mr. Cold Eyes?”
Incredibly, Harriet chuckled. “An apt nomenclature. He was…cold. I stood in his parlour, where only a few candles were burning. He told me to remove my cloak, which I did.” She took a breath. “Then he told me to remove the rest of my clothing.”
Letitia gasped. “And…did you?”
“I got to my chemise and my hands were shaking so much I couldn’t untie anything anymore.” She shrugged. “At that point I was resigned to my fate. He came up to me and tore off the garment, leaving me…” she gulped, “quite bare to his gaze.”
Letitia was speechless.
“He walked around me, Miss Ridlington. I stood there, unclad, while he walked around me. It was as if he was appraising me. A truly awful experience. And do you want to know the worst thing of all?”
Letitia nodded, still at a loss for words.
“He gave me back my chemise and told me to get dressed.”
“Uh…”
“Apparently, I did not suit.” She sighed. “I put my clothes on, and he was decent enough to tell me he would speak with my uncle soon. But he told me that I did not have the makings of the kind of mistress he was looking for. I was too average for his tastes.”
“What on earth kind of tastes are those?” Letitia cried out. “No, wait. I have no wish to know.” She leaned back, stunned at Harriet’s story. “My dear girl, how can I help? You cannot possibly go back to those awful people.”
“They were already seeking another protector for me. I heard them talking a couple of days ago. And that’s when I knew I could not stay any longer. And why I ended up here.”
“A fortuitous meeting, indeed. I shall do all I can to help.” Letitia nodded.
“You are very kind, but I’m not sure I know how such help could be rendered…”
“I’m quite resourceful, Miss Selkirk. Let me put my mind to it.”
“Oh.” Harriet frowned. “Do you know, I have remembered something. I met a lovely young lady at that ball. Her name was Kitty, and I do believe her last name was Ridlington. I just recalled her as I spoke of that night. Is she a relative of yours?”
Letitia grinned. “Oh yes. That’s my sister, Kitty. Actually she’s my half-sister, but that’s another story for another time.”
“I saw Mr. Seton-Mowbray talking to her. I think they might have danced. He is quite impressive for his height alone, a noticeable presence in a ballroom.”
“I think it most likely they danced,” said Letitia wryly. “Kitty is a wonderful sister, indeed, but made no secret of her desire to travel to London and join in what she viewed as the revelries and fun of the Ton. If he was attractive and noticeable, she’ll have definitely danced with him.”
“And you have no such desire, Miss Ridlington, if you’ll forgive the personal nature of the question…?”
“Goodness no. I have other plans.” She glanced at the clock. “One of which may be about to come to fruition.” She rose, as did Harriet. “As far as your dire situation is concerned, an idea will come to me, I know, but I must take care of my meeting first. Will you wait for me to conclude my business?”
“Of course.” Harriet looked relieved. “I confess it is welcome to have someone tell me what to do, and to be able to answer in the positive for a change.”
“Excellent.” Letitia heard voices outside. “I must go. My meeting is in the snug. It shouldn’t be more than a half an hour or so, I expect. So we’ll meet down here afterward.” She gave a little wave and left the parlour, her mind busy with ideas.
She had indeed passed an interesting hour with Miss Harriet Selkirk. Now she was about to pass another hour or so with Mr. Lionel Lesley, Owner, Lesley and Sons Publishers.
The man who held Letitia’s future in his hands.
Chapter Two
He was a little younger than she’d anticipated. Perhaps in his early forties, which was no great age, but given that he was the name behind a prestigious London publishing company, she’d been prepared for someone with more of an elderly appearance.
“Miss Smith?” He rose as she entered the parlour.
“Indeed.” She dropped him a polite curtsey. “Thank you for the honour you do us, Mr. Lesley. Coming all this way from London is very much appreciated, and quite a surprise.”
They sat, he in a large chair by the fireplace, she in a smaller one next to the well-worn sofa.
“After reading your…er…friend’s manuscript, I felt it incumbent upon me to visit in person. And to be honest, I have an acquaintance in the area, so it was a case of killing two birds with one happy stone.” He crossed his legs. “I suppose there is no chance of my meeting with Lady Corinth in person?”
“No sir, I’m afraid not.” Letitia kept her expression calm and her words simple. She was masquerading as the author’s friend and intended Mr. Lesley to completely accept her role. “Given the nature of the manuscript, I’m sure you can understand her desire to remain anonymous.”
“Indeed.” Lesley nodded. “Cytherean Tales has the potential to be a very popular volume, Miss Smith.”
Letitia’s heart jumped. “It does?”
“Yes.” He tapped his leather case which lay on the table next to him. “It is quite remarkable in its characterization and the heroines’ voices are strong and will easily attract and hold a reader’s attention.”
“Well,” Letitia cleared her throat. “I can assure you she will be very happy to hear that. Very happy indeed.”
“You realize however, that this is a very controversial volume?”
“I do.”
“You have read it yourself?” He raised an eyebrow. “I will admit to some surprise that a lady of your tender years has risked exposing hersel
f to the material contained in this book.”
Letitia’s chin rose. “I believe Lady Corinth wrote much of the book with women in mind, Mr. Lesley.” She caught herself up. “At least that’s what she told me, several times, during its creation.”
“You astound me.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure that we will be able to market it as suitable for ladies.”
Unwilling to argue at this point, Letitia let that issue lie. “Do I take it then, that you are considering accepting Lady Corinth’s work, sir?”
“Indeed yes. I will be very happy to offer a publication contract to Lady Corinth. On most generous terms, I might add.”
Since she couldn’t stand up, shout, dance, whoop or do any of the things she would like to have done, she just smiled.
“There is one proviso…” He reached for his bag and withdrew the manuscript.
Her heart dropped to her boots. Here it comes. Nothing is ever that simple.
“I have made a copy and taken the liberty of marking up some areas that need greater clarification. I’ve also had a copy made of the document with the suggestions. It never hurts to have an extra manuscript for safety.”
“Would not an editor be the one to make those suggestions, sir? I believe I’ve heard that that’s how these matters are handled?”
“We do have editors on call; several are well-respected in their fields. However, given this particular volume and the nature of the content, I felt it better to retain it in our own offices. I’m sure you can appreciate my point of view.”
She watched him. He was not embarrassed, just cautious.
“Therefore I have done what might be called a preliminary read, and made some editing suggestions. If Lady Corinth would be good enough to look them over, and perhaps attend to them, then we would be delighted to offer one of our highest tier contracts.”
He withdrew a document from his case and passed it to Letitia.
Her vision blurred for a few moments as she read the terms. The advance alone would be enough to fix a lot of the rotting floors at Ridlington Chase. And the consequent profits from sales and second and third editions? Her mind scrambled to grasp the significance of the numbers.
After a few minutes, she laid the document beside her on the couch. “You must be confident of success, Mr. Lesley, to offer such generous amounts. You’ve said yourself that this is controversial material. Are you that sure it will sell? Is there a market for works of such a nature?”
“I can understand your questions, Miss Smith. And since they must emanate from Lady Corinth herself…” He glanced at her with a questioning look.
“Yes, they do.”
“Then you may reassure her that yes, there is indeed a very active interest in such books. I think it fair to describe this as erotic, if you’ll forgive my blunt words. And such volumes have achieved very healthy sales numbers, while not necessarily finding their way into the most popularly visited sections of bookshops or libraries.”
“Ah,” exclaimed Letitia. “I see what you mean.” You’re going to make a fortune selling my book under the counter.
It was no more or less than she’d expected.
“Well then, if you have no more questions from the lady, it only remains for me to mention our publication schedule. We have a number of volumes that need to be set up for printing; that means that within three to four months, we would have an opening for Cytherean Tales. In fact,” he tilted his head to one side in thought, “January might be an excellent month to debut the work. We could make sure to get the word out to…” He stopped, looked at Letitia, and chuckled. “There I go. The publisher always trying to ensure the success of a book.”
“Is that not a good thing?”
“I suppose it’s a good thing for everyone, but it does sometimes send my conversation down paths that can be hard to follow.” He rose. “It’s been delightful meeting you, Miss Smith.’
Letitia rose too. “Thank you, Mr. Lesley. I have enjoyed our conversation, and will make sure that Lady Corinth reviews your suggestions immediately. I take it you would like to hear from her before Christmas?”
“Even sooner if possible.” He thought for a moment. “Would December first be acceptable, do you think? An informal deadline which should give her time to consider the changes and perhaps complete them?”
“I believe that should be acceptable, yes.” She turned and picked up the contract. “What about this? Will it still be valid at that time?”
“Yes.” Mr. Lesley drew himself up. “We believe it to be a fair offer, and Lesley and Sons does not withdraw such an offer lightly. Unless, of course, Lady Corinth herself refuses the contract or submits her document elsewhere.” He frowned. “We do not consider work that has been shopped around, as it were.”
“Of course,” said Letitia soothingly. “You have my personal assurance, Mr. Lesley. Lady Corinth has always been committed to the idea of publishing with Lesley and Sons. She wouldn’t dream of going elsewhere, I’m convinced.”
He nodded. “That is good news. Now I must take my leave.” He picked up his hat.
Letitia curtseyed. “Of course. As must I.”
He opened the door. “Your maid awaits you, I trust?”
“Oh, I…” She hesitated. Yes, she would have a maid with her. Of course she would. If she was who she claimed to be. Thinking frantically, she glanced through the door and saw Harriet sitting quietly in one corner of the inn’s foyer. “There she is.” Meeting Harriet’s eyes, she beckoned, and Harriet stood then walked toward her.
“Excellent,” approved Mr. Lesley. “I see I can leave you in safe hands.” He doffed his hat. “A pleasure, Miss Smith.”
“Thank you again, sir.” Letitia smiled and then turned to Harriet. “Would you get my cloak, please, Harry? We’re ready to leave.”
*~~*~~*
“You don’t mind the walk?”
Letitia glanced at her companion as they began the journey back to Ridlington Chase.
“Not at all.” Harriet looked around. “This countryside is so lovely. And the air is clean and fresh. A delightful change from the metropolis, I can assure you.” She carried a small portmanteau, but without effort. There could not be much inside.
“Good. Because we must talk.” Letitia formulated her thoughts. “As you guessed, I pretended you were my maid. Mr. Lesley expected me to be accompanied and for reasons I’ll go into shortly, it was necessary to meet those expectations.”
“Yes, I gathered as much.” Harriet nodded. “It was indeed clever of you.”
“Not so much clever as a momentary improvisation. However,” continued Letitia, “it has given me an idea as to how to solve your problem and also assist me with mine.”
“Oh?” Harriet’s eyes turned to Letitia in curiosity. “I am all ears, Miss Letitia.”
“I think you should actually be my maid.”
Harriet’s mouth fell open, and if it hadn’t been a matter of import, Letitia would have been hard pressed not to laugh at the picture she presented.
“What?”
“If you’re agreeable, that is.” Letitia guided Harriet onto the lane toward the Chase. “You were the one who actually began my train of thought on this very topic. You said you needed to be invisible.” She glanced at Harriet. “Who is more invisible than a lady’s maid?”
The young woman considered Letitia’s words for several minutes as they walked between tall hedges just showing signs of the oncoming autumn season. Little peeks of reds and browns, sparse as yet, but heralding the inevitable arrival of cooler days.
“I don’t know anything about being a maid,” Harriet said. “I’ve had one, but never really paid much attention to what she did. And to be honest, I didn’t like her very much. I always felt she was spying on me.”
“Well there you are then. You won’t be anything like her at all. You’ll be quite the opposite.”
Harriet’s mouth opened and closed. “Miss Letitia…” The remonstrating tone was quite clear. “You are in
an aristocratic household. You need a maid who knows what she’s doing. Who can take care of one such as yourself without any direction. Your maid should be able to anticipate your needs, make sure that your day is not plagued with problems…all those things, of which I have no knowledge whatsoever.”
Letitia shook her head. “You’re completely wrong. I don’t need that sort of maid at all.”
Harriet came to a standstill next to a stile. “I do not understand what you’re saying.”
“Very well. Here, come and sit for a moment.” The two women walked to the stile and rested themselves on it, tucked between the hedges and looking out over a delightful view of fields and sheep and a few cows grazing in the distance.
“I’m going to trust you with a secret,” began Letitia. “You’ve been good enough to trust me with yours, and although we barely know each other, I believe such a trust will be held fast between us. Am I right?”
She looked at Harriet, into her eyes, doing her best to gauge this woman she was about to let into her most private thoughts. The honesty she saw there reassured her, as did Harriet’s words.
“I think we met by design, Miss Letitia. You and I were destined to run into each other this morning. Your words make me believe that I do indeed have a future that does not include the terrible things I feared. So yes, whatever you choose to impart will be held close and private until my death. I promise.” She held out her hand.
Letitia took it and shook it. A masculine gesture but an effective one for this occasion. “Then first, you must stop calling me Miss Letitia.” She blinked. “I should amend that to when we’re alone. It would be indeed odd for a maid to be on such informal terms with her mistress.”
“And you will continue to call me Harry?” asked Harriet. “I quite like it.”
“Then Harry it is.”
“Very well, Letitia. Now please tell me what this is all about.” Harriet settled herself in readiness.
Letitia took a breath. “I have written a book.”
“Oh, my. How exciting. And how brilliant of you.”
Harriet’s admiring gaze was exactly what Letitia had found herself wanting for so very long. “Thank you. Yes, it took me a lot of time.”
