The virtuous Miss Fairclough...
...now faces ruin!
Part of Secrets of a Victorian Household. When Amelia Fairclough had sought refuge in a blizzard, a brooding stranger had given her warmth and shelter. She’d even tried to soothe him of his demons in return. But as she scurried home at dawn, she was spotted! Now he’s in the parlor, offering to do the honorable thing. Surely she’d be a fool to turn down the new Marquess of Falconmore!
Secrets of a Victorian Household
One family. Four unexpected romances!
The Fairclough Foundation, situated in the backstreets of Westminster in London, has become a vital safe haven for women down on their luck. At the helm is resilient widow Lilian Fairclough. But now Lilian and her two daughters, Millie and Lottie, find themselves in trouble, having not heard from Millie’s twin brother, Silas, for over six months...
With their dwindling funds threatening the foundation, the urgency to find out where exactly Silas is is greater than ever. And as they fight to save their livelihood, each family member is about to uncover scandalous, dangerous secrets...and find unexpected romance along the way!
Discover more in
Miss Lottie’s Christmas Protector
by Sophia James
November 2019
Miss Amelia’s Mistletoe Marquess
by Jenni Fletcher
December 2019
Mr. Fairclough’s Inherited Bride
by Georgie Lee
January 2020
Lilian and the Irresistible Duke
by Virginia Heath
February 2020
Author Note
I’ve really enjoyed collaborating on this Victorian series with my fellow authors Sophia James, Georgie Lee and Virginia Heath, all of whom have inspired and supported me. It’s not easy juggling characters and plots, especially across continents and in different time zones, but I’ve fallen in love with the whole Fairclough family and I can’t wait to read their stories!
JENNI FLETCHER
Miss Amelia’s
Mistletoe Marquess
Jenni Fletcher was born in the north of Scotland and now lives in Yorkshire with her husband and two children. She wanted to be a writer as a child but became distracted by reading instead, finally getting past her first paragraph thirty years later. She’s had more jobs than she can remember but has finally found one she loves. She can be contacted on Twitter, @jenniauthor, or via her Facebook author page.
Also by Jenni Fletcher
Harlequin Historical
Married to Her Enemy
Besieged and Betrothed
The Warrior’s Bride Prize
Reclaimed by Her Rebel Knight
Secrets of a Victorian Household
Miss Amelia’s Mistletoe Marquess
Whitby Weddings
The Convenient Felstone Marriage
Captain Amberton’s Inherited Bride
The Viscount’s Veiled Lady
Visit the Author Profile page
at Harlequin.com.
To Andy, my best chum.
Also, thanks and love to my other partners in fictional crime, Therese, Rachael and Jeev.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Excerpt from Christmas with His Wallflower Wife by Janice Preston
Chapter One
December 1842
Forty-five minutes!
Millie Fairclough stared at the enamelled bronze carriage clock above the fireplace in astonishment.She would never have imagined such a feat of verbosity were possible, but apparently it was. Lady Fentree and her five middle-aged companions really had been talking about bonnets for forty-five minutes. Not to mention fifteen before that on hemlines and almost a full hour on sleeves!
‘Personally...’ Lady Fentree intoned with the air of a woman about to make some momentous pronouncement ‘...I favour a wide peak. Poke bonnets are far too restrictive. I tried on one of Vanessa’s the other day and I could barely turn my head!’
‘Oh, I agree completely.’ The woman on Millie’s left nodded her head so vigorously that her lace cap flopped forward over one eye. ‘But you know young girls like to follow the latest fashions and your Vanessa would look charming in anything.’
‘True...’ Lady Fentree smiled complacently ‘...and I suppose we were the same once. Only one learns to appreciate practicality over appearance at our age.’
Millie looked down at her hands as half-a-dozen ladies laughed, somewhat surprised and faintly chagrined to be included in the latter category. She could only presume that their hostess had forgotten she was there, given that she hadn’t uttered more than a few murmurs of agreement for the past hour and a half.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like bonnets, or hemlines or sleeves for that matter. On the contrary, she had a keen and, she was afraid, somewhat sinful interest in fashion. It was her guilty pleasure. She couldn’t afford to buy new clothes very often, no more than a pair of new gloves or a few ribbons anyway, but she could still look at and appreciate the sartorial choices of others.
Truth be told, she knew a quite shameful amount about bonnets. Straw bonnets, cottage bonnets, spoon bonnets, drawn bonnets... She had an opinion on each and every one of them—maybe not forty-five minutes’ worth—but still, more than she cared to admit. There were certainly things she might have contributed to the conversation, but the whole subject seemed far too shallow compared to her everyday life at the Fairclough Foundation, the institute for down-on-their-luck women her parents had founded more than twenty years before. Now, no matter how hard she tried to relax and enjoy the evening party, she found herself unable to indulge in a little light-hearted discussion. She was a serious person with a serious reputation to uphold and serious matters to consider. Whatever would people say if they discovered that the dutiful, virtuous and, above all, self-sacrificing Miss Amelia Fairclough had opinions on bonnets?
Not that there was anything inherently sinful about the subject, she reminded herself. After all, people needed clothes even if they didn’t necessarily need fashion. That was the reason she gave sewing lessons at the Foundation, as well as weekly tutorials in embroidery and crochet. It was thanks to those very skills that she’d managed to transform her best dress, now in its seventh year of service, into something vaguely fashionable for this evening’s outing. It had taken all of her ingenuity, but she’d finally succeeded in reducing the gigot sleeves into short puffed ones, even fringing the cuffs with a layer of white lace and adding a matching trim to the hem. It wasn’t perfect. The bodice was too high and the overall shape nowhere near full enough, but she’d thought it had looked reasonably presentable.
Less than a minute inside Lady Fentree’s imposi
ng Georgian mansion had been sufficient to destroy that illusion. All of the other young ladies were dressed in the very height of fashion, in off-the-shoulder silk gowns with bell-shaped skirts and low, pointed waists, as if they’d come to the party straight from their modistes. As a casual observer Millie thought she might have enjoyed the spectacle, but to be seated amid so much splendour made her feel like a gaudy weed in a flowerbed full of lilies. It was hard not to feel a little bit jealous, especially when the new vogue for pastel shades was far better suited to her pale skin and auburn hair than the recent craze for bright colours. Even harder not to feel self-conscious when everything about her, from the sensible, unadorned bun at the nape of her neck to the practical ankle boots poking out from beneath her skirts made her feel hopelessly dowdy.
‘What do you think of Pamela hats, Miss Fairclough?’ Lady Fentree’s voice penetrated her thoughts suddenly.
‘Me?’ Millie flushed, embarrassed to have been caught with her attention wandering. ‘Oh, I like them very much, especially the ones with wide ribbons.’
‘Indeed. They’re so flattering, especially when one wears the back of one’s hair in ringlets. It stops them getting flattened.’
‘Yes, I suppose it does, although I’m afraid I’ve never worn ringlets.’
‘Never?’ Lady Fentree sounded genuinely shocked. ‘Well, how extraordinary.’
‘Is it?’ Millie looked around the group in dismay, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, after all. Judging by the looks being exchanged, everyone else thought it extraordinary, too. As if she’d needed another way to prove how drab and boring she was!
Which was nothing but foolishness and vain self-regard on her part, she chided herself, sitting back in her chair as the conversation moved on without her. There was no cause to feel jealous of the other young women either. Clothes were simply the external trappings of a person and not a reflection of the soul beneath. Self-sacrifice and duty were the things that really mattered in life and she for one could survive perfectly well without new gowns or elaborate hairstyles. It was only being in society that made her feel this way and she’d be back out of it soon enough, as soon as she and her mother returned to the Foundation, where nobody had forty-five minutes to waste in idle chatter about bonnets.
For once, however, the idea of noble self-sacrifice failed to provide its usual consolation. Looking around a room filled with smiling, chattering faces, she still couldn’t help but feel just a little bit...well, boring. Was she boring? She didn’t want to be, but compared to everyone else, her impulsive younger sister Lottie especially, she couldn’t help but suspect that she was. Lottie wasn’t there, of course, having stayed behind in London with a cold while she and their mother came to spend Christmas in the country, but Millie still knew what she’d say. She’d tell her to stop behaving like an old maid and just enjoy herself for once. That was the whole point of this holiday, after all, even if Millie suspected their mother had ulterior motives.
They were staying at the house of her father’s cousin, Lady Alexandra Malverly, the only member of his family who hadn’t disowned him after his marriage to her bluestocking mother, Lilian. Despite rigid opposition, the two women had become close friends and remained so even after his premature death from typhoid ten years before. Since then, Alexandra had issued regular invitations for them to visit, but her mother had generally refused, being unable to make reciprocal offers herself. This year, however, she’d said yes, claiming that she needed a change of scene and a rest. Given how worried they were about Millie’s twin brother, Silas, that was hardly surprising, but it was still out of character enough for Millie to wonder if there was something else behind it.
‘I really think you ought to try ringlets, Miss Fairclough.’ Lady Fentree’s fan tapped her knee, startling her anew. ‘A little more width at the sides would make your face look rounder. Yes, indeed, you must try ringlets and with a Pamela bonnet, too. I shall advise your mother to purchase one.’
‘Oh, no.’ Millie lifted a hand in protest. The last thing her mother could afford was a new bonnet for her. ‘I’m perfectly happy as I am. There’s really no need to trouble yourself.’
‘It’s no trouble...’
‘But I’d prefer it if you didn’t.’
‘Well, I’m sure I was only trying to help!’ Lady Fentree tossed her head and gave a loud, affronted sniff. ‘In any case, it seems that your mother is otherwise occupied.’
Millie followed the direction of her gaze across the drawing room to where her mother was deep in conversation with a strikingly handsome, dark-haired gentleman. Now that she thought of it, she’d been talking to him the last time she’d looked and the time before that. Which was...surprising. Even more so the fact that her mother was actually laughing, something she rarely did at the Foundation. Or at all any more. In fact, in the decade since her mother had been widowed, Millie didn’t think she’d ever seen her talk to any man, family members excluded, with anything other than polite interest.
‘She does look rather engrossed.’ The woman on her left tittered. ‘I’m sure bonnets can wait.’
‘My mother has far more important matters to concern herself with than bonnets.’ Millie stiffened defensively.
‘Oh, yes, Lady Malverly told me all about your Foundation.’ Lady Fentree looked pointedly around at her companions and gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘Mrs Fairclough and her husband set up an institute for women of questionable virtue a number of years ago. I understand that Miss Fairclough here assists in its running.’
‘I do, but it’s for women in need,’ Millie corrected her, ‘virtuous or otherwise. In particular, it’s for women with nowhere else to go. Our Foundation provides them with a place to stay and helps them get back on their feet.’
‘Very laudable, but I don’t think I’d like my Vanessa to involve herself in such matters. A young lady ought not to know too much about that side of life.’
‘No, far better to learn about bonnets,’ Millie heard herself snap, ‘but I’ve been raised to believe that we can’t just ignore things—or people—that we might prefer not to notice. We have a duty to help others.’
‘But surely we can do both?’ Her cousin Alexandra appeared at her side suddenly, wearing a placatory smile. ‘Personally I’ve never understood why we can’t help those less fortunate than ourselves and wear the latest fashions.’
‘Quite!’ Lady Fentree’s voice had the force of a small cannon. ‘Although I might suggest that this Foundation teach a few lessons in manners as well!’
‘What a splendid idea.’ Alexandra placed a restraining hand on Millie’s shoulder. ‘I’ll suggest it to Lilian later, but now I’m sorry to say we must leave you. It seems the weather is conspiring against us.’
‘Why, whatever do you mean?’
‘It’s snowing. Quite heavily, too. If we don’t leave now, then I’m afraid we might become stranded and I wouldn’t want to trespass on your hospitality overnight.’
‘No indeed.’ Lady Fentree narrowed her eyes at Millie. ‘I prefer not to share my roof with revolutionaries.’
‘But we’ve had a perfectly lovely evening, haven’t we, Millie?’ Alexandra’s grip on her shoulder tightened.
‘Yes...thank you.’ Millie rose to her feet and bobbed a dutiful curtsy. ‘Please forgive my bluntness, Lady Fentree. I meant no offence.’
‘Mmm.’ The look on the other woman’s face was anything but forgiving. ‘In that case, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay in the country, Miss Fairclough, though I very much doubt that our paths will cross again.’
Millie gritted her teeth as she followed Alexandra and a few other guests from the village out into the hall. They’d all travelled together to save the need for individual carriages, but now the thought of sitting in a constricted space and reviewing the evening’s entertainment made her want to scream.
‘Millie dear...’ Alexandra’s voice was ge
ntly chiding.
‘I know. I was unforgivably rude.’
‘Not without provocation. It might do Lady Fentree good to be reminded that there are other people in the world, but perhaps it was a little tactless to do it under her roof.’
‘I’m sorry, Cousin.’
‘Never mind.’ Alexandra patted her arm sympathetically. ‘It’ll be forgotten soon enough, but it’s not like you to be so sensitive. Are you feeling all right?’
‘Yes... No.’ Millie looked down at the floor in consternation. ‘Not really. I thought Mama might have told you I received an offer of marriage last week.’
‘She did mention it, yes...’ Alexandra paused tactfully. ‘From the local Curate—although I understand it’s not a love match.’
‘No. It’s not romantic for either of us. Gilbert’s a good man and he says he wants a wife who can work alongside him, but we’re not in love.’
‘But you’re thinking of accepting him?’
‘I suppose so...yes.’
Millie drew on her gloves with a sigh. Yes, she was considering it, although considering was as far as she’d got. Practically speaking, it was an advantageous offer. Gilbert was good and intelligent and serious. A little too serious perhaps, pedantic even, and a little over-zealous on occasion, but still...good and surely that was the quality she ought to want most in a husband? Only she couldn’t help but worry that two serious people together might become a little too serious. Which would make her even more boring...
‘I believe your mother is afraid you might accept him simply to alleviate her current financial difficulties.’ Alexandra’s gaze was a little too focused.
‘Our financial difficulties. Her problems are mine, too.’
‘Ye—es, but the last thing she wants is for you to sacrifice yourself to a loveless marriage just for her sake. Or the Foundation’s, for that matter.’
‘I know.’ Millie glanced back towards the drawing room. ‘I think she hoped I might meet someone else, but it seems unlikely. All the men here tonight could talk about were the newest inventions and how much money they might make from them.’
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