by Beers, Laura
“I am well aware, but we still have a roof over our heads and a housekeeper,” her mother said. “We should be grateful for what we have.”
“Father would be mortified by the way Lord Worthington has been treating you.”
Tears came to her mother’s eyes, but she blinked them away. “Regardless, I am more concerned about your future prospects.”
Ellie shifted her gaze towards the window. “How will I even travel to London?”
“I have secured your passage on the mail coach leaving today,” her mother said. “With any luck, it will only take a few hours to arrive in Town.”
“Will you come with me?”
Her mother shook her head. “It will be best if I stay behind so Lord Worthington doesn’t suspect you have left.”
Ellie blew out a puff of air. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“In due time, you will recognize the validity of this plan,” her mother insisted. “You just need to trust me.”
“I do.”
Her mother smiled. “It is my greatest hope that you make a brilliant match and we can both rise above the squalor we find ourselves in now.”
Ellie squared her shoulders. “I will do my best.”
“That is all I can ask from you.”
A knock came at the door, bringing their conversation to an abrupt halt.
Ellie rose and walked over to the door. She opened it, revealing the short, balding Lord Worthington. He was rather unfortunate looking, with his round face and large nose.
She dropped into a curtsy as she greeted him. “My lord,” she murmured.
He smiled as his eyes perused the length of her, lingering on her round neckline.
Her mother spoke up from behind her. “Good morning, Lord Worthington,” she said. “Would you care for some breakfast?”
Lord Worthington shifted the riding hat in his hand. “Thank you for the offer, but I have breakfast waiting for me at the manor.”
“Would you care to come in?” Ellie asked, opening the door wider.
“Thank you.” Lord Worthington stepped into the room. “I have come to see if you had a chance to reconsider my offer, Miss Bentley.”
Ellie brought a smile to her face. “I’m afraid I must decline again, but I do thank you for your kind offer.”
“I see,” he said, clearly displeased. “I still contend that we would suit well.”
“I do credit your feelings, but I respectfully disagree.”
Lord Worthington frowned. “I beg you to think it over. I could offer you the life that you deserve,” he said. “After all, it would be a shame if Mrs. Webster came back to work at the manor. Wouldn’t it?”
Ellie clasped her hands in front of her. “That it would,” she agreed.
Lord Worthington placed his hat on top of his head. “I shall come by in a few days for your decision,” he said. “I hope you take the time to thoughtfully consider my offer.”
“What an insufferable man,” Mrs. Webster muttered after he departed.
Ellie’s mother stepped to the window and stared out. “We must get you away from Lord Worthington as quickly as possible.”
“I couldn’t possibly leave you, Mother.”
Her mother walked over to her and placed a hand on her sleeve. “Do not fret about me,” she said. “My only dream is for you to become the woman that you are supposed to be.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts’. You have a wonderful opportunity, and I know that Lady Bideford will treat you with exceptional kindness.”
Ellie pressed her lips together, then said, “I will marry well, and I will come back for you.”
“I know you will,” her mother replied, “but you must promise me that you will enjoy yourself.”
“I will try.”
Her mother cupped her cheek. “You are the most precious thing in the whole world to me,” she remarked. “You are all I have left since your father died.”
“I feel the same way about you.”
Her mother smiled tenderly. “I will help you pack your valise after breakfast.”
Ellie nodded. “I will make you proud, Mother.”
“You already have, my dear.”
2
The sun was just setting as Ellie placed her valise on the ground and stared up at the three-level, whitewashed townhouse with trepidation. She knew her life was about to change, again. She hoped her mother was right about Lady Bideford being accommodating. She would hate to travel back to Maidstone on the next mail coach.
She glanced down at her dusty gray traveling gown and let out a sigh. This is as good as it was going to get, she thought. Picking up her valise, she walked up the three steps to the main door, then lifted her hand and knocked.
She reached up and tucked several errant locks of her brown hair behind her ear as she waited. Her hair had come undone from the elaborate chignon Mrs. Webster had created earlier today, and she was forced to replace it with a tight bun at the base of her neck.
The door opened and the butler looked at her in surprise. “Whatever do you think you are doing?” he asked as his eyes perused the length of her.
“Pardon?” She tightened her hold on the handle of her valise.
He gave her an exasperated look. “The servant’s entrance is around the corner.”
“But, I—” she attempted.
Ellie didn’t have time to finish her sentence before the door was slammed shut. Unsure of what to do, she decided her only option was to go around to the servant’s entrance. She descended the stairs and walked around the corner to a flight of stairs leading to the lower level.
Reaching the servant’s door, she knocked and waited. A short time later the door opened, and she was greeted by a portly woman with white hair.
“Dear heavens, I thought I heard a knock on the door,” the woman said, ushering her in. “What can I do for you, dearie?”
Ellie stepped into the kitchen. “I was hoping to speak to Lady Bideford.”
The woman’s brow lifted as she wiped her hands on the white apron tied around her waist. “And why is that?”
“Because I believe she is expecting me.”
The woman glanced at her curiously. “Are you looking for work?”
“Heavens, no,” she replied with a shake of her head. “My mother, Lady Worthington, sent her a letter, and Lady Bideford has agreed to host me for the Season.”
“Then why didn’t you come to the front door?”
Ellie shifted the valise from one hand to the other. “The butler took one look at me and told me to go to the servant’s entrance.”
“Well, I hope you will forgive him. You really don’t look much like a lady at the moment,” the woman said, softening her words with a smile. “You appear terribly disheveled, almost as if you rolled around in dirt.”
“That is because I took the mail coach to Town.”
The woman placed a hand on her sleeve. “You have had a hard go of it,” she said. “Let’s get this sorted out, and I will start heating the water for your bath.”
“That sounds heavenly,” Ellie murmured.
“My name is Mrs. Hatch,” the woman shared as they walked down a narrow hall. “I have been the cook for nearly ten years now.”
“That is a remarkable feat.”
The woman stopped outside an open door and gestured that she should go first. As she stepped into the room, she saw a woman sitting behind a desk. The woman was dressed in a drab gown, her silver hair tied into a tight bun, and she had a pleasant disposition about her.
“Whatever do we have here, Mrs. Hatch?” the woman asked.
“This young woman is hoping to speak to Lady Bideford,” Mrs. Hatch revealed. “Thorne took one look at her and sent her to the servant’s entrance.”
The woman watched her closely. “What business do you have with Lady Bideford?”
“She is expecting me,” Ellie replied.
“Is that so?” the woman asked. “What is your name, miss?�
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Ellie met her gaze. “My name is Miss Elizabeth Bentley.”
The woman’s brow shot up. “You are Miss Elizabeth Bentley?” she repeated slowly.
“I am.”
“I do apologize for this unfortunate misunderstanding,” the woman rushed to say as she rose. “You most assuredly do not belong down in the servant’s quarters.”
The woman stepped closer to her and continued. “My name is Mrs. Noelle, and I am the housekeeper,” she shared.
Mrs. Hatch spoke up. “I shall see to heating the water for her bath.”
“Very good,” Mrs. Noelle said before turning her attention back to Ellie. “If you will follow me, I shall show you upstairs.”
As they stepped into the hall, Mrs. Noelle shouted, “Wilstead!”
A tall, lanky man appeared from one of the rooms. “Yes, Mrs. Noelle?”
“Will you please collect Miss Bentley’s valise and see that it is placed in the lilac bedchamber?” Mrs. Noelle glanced over at Ellie. “Where are the rest of your trunks?”
“I didn’t bring any trunks with me.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “I just brought my valise with me, and I intend to purchase gowns.”
If Mrs. Noelle was surprised by her comments, she didn’t show it. Her face remained expressionless. “Very good, then.”
Ellie handed her valise to the footman and hurried to catch up to the housekeeper, who had begun ascending the stairs. “The dinner bell will be ringing in an hour, so you will have time for a long soak,” Mrs. Noelle informed her.
The housekeeper glanced over at her, then said, “I must imagine you didn’t bring a lady’s maid with you.”
“I did not.”
“We shall assign a maid to see to your needs.” Mrs. Noelle opened a door and stood to the side to let Ellie enter first.
Ellie stepped into a hall, her eyes drawn to the large portraits hung on the wall.
Mrs. Noelle started walking down the hall and spoke over her shoulder. “I must apologize again for the confusion, but I’m afraid we were expecting a new scullery maid today.”
“That would explain the mix-up.”
The passage opened into a large room with black and white tiles. A wooden staircase dominated one side of the hall, and Ellie admired the white columns running the length of the room.
The butler was standing near the base of the stairs and watched them approach with a bemused look on his face.
Mrs. Noelle came to a stop next to him and gestured towards Ellie. “Thorne, I would like to introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bentley.”
Thorne’s eyes grew wide. “You are Miss Elizabeth Bentley?”
She nodded. “I am.”
His face grew red and splotchy. “I do apologize, miss,” he stammered.
“There is no need,” she replied. “I understand a new scullery maid was arriving today, and I can see how you mistook me for her.” She glanced down at her traveling gown. “I do look a fright.”
Mrs. Noelle interjected, “If you will excuse us, I shall escort Miss Bentley to meet with Lady Bideford.”
The butler bowed. “Yes, of course.”
As they walked up the stairs, Mrs. Noelle leaned closer to her with a smile on her face. “I daresay I haven’t seen Thorne that dumbfounded in quite some time.”
“Is that so?”
Mrs. Noelle laughed. “I’m afraid no one will let him forget that he sent a lady to the servant’s entrance.”
“Please don’t be too hard on him,” Ellie replied. “It was just an honest mistake.”
“That it was,” the housekeeper agreed.
A few moments later Mrs. Noelle knocked on a door.
“Enter,” a voice came from within.
Mrs. Noelle opened the door and stepped inside. As she followed her into the room, Ellie saw a matronly woman with fading brown hair sitting on a settee by the fire. It was evident that this was Lady Bideford.
The housekeeper gestured towards her and said, “Allow me to introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bentley.”
Rising from the settee, Lady Bideford came to stand in front of her. “I would recognize you anywhere. You are the spitting image of your mother.”
“That is kind of you to say, my lady,” she replied as she dropped into a curtsy.
Lady Bideford smiled kindly at her. “I would prefer it if you called me Harriet.”
“Then you must call me Ellie.”
With an approving nod, Harriet’s eyes roamed over her face. “You are terribly filthy, my dear,” she said. “How did you manage to travel here?”
“I took the mail coach.”
Harriet pressed her lips together in disapproval. “I wish your mother would have said something. I would have sent our coach to retrieve you.”
“It was no bother to take the mail coach,” she attempted.
“Your mother was always quite stubborn,” Harriet said in a low voice. “Do you take after her in that regard?”
“I’m afraid I do.”
Harriet shook her head. “Let’s pray that you are not past hope yet,” she commented good-naturedly.
Harriet turned her attention towards the housekeeper. “Will you ensure a bath is prepared for Miss Bentley?”
“The water is already being prepared,” Mrs. Noelle said.
“Wonderful.” Harriet turned her attention back towards Ellie. “Did you bring trunks with you?”
“No,” she replied. “I only brought a few gowns with me in my valise, but I was hoping to secure more when we go shopping.”
“Do you have something appropriate to wear for dinner?” Harriet asked.
“I do.”
Harriet didn’t appear convinced. “You and my daughter, Emma, appear to be of a similar size. I will arrange for a few gowns to be brought up to your bedchamber.”
“That is most kind of you.”
“Nonsense,” Harriet declared. “You are under my care now, and I shall ensure you are properly dressed.”
“I do not wish to be a burden,” Ellie murmured.
Harriet placed a hand gently on her arm. “You need to get that ridiculous notion out of your head,” she said, then smiled. “We are happy you’re here.”
Ellie felt herself relaxing in Harriet’s presence. “I must admit that I am pleased to be here,” she admitted.
“We shall talk later, but right now I want you to go enjoy your bath,” Harriet encouraged.
The sun had set as Roswell reviewed ledgers at his desk. He had just closed the book when his brother walked into the room.
“Good evening,” Charles greeted.
He huffed. “What is so good about it?”
Charles gave him an amused look. “I see you are in a pleasant mood.”
“Aren’t I always?”
His brother sat in the chair positioned in front of the desk. “How was the House of Lords today?”
“It was uneventful.”
“That is most disappointing.”
Roswell leaned back in his chair. “The blasted Whigs make it nearly impossible for anything to be accomplished.”
“Father had issues with Whigs, as well.”
“With good reason,” Roswell remarked. “Their fantastical nonsense that the power belongs to the people is absurd, and they continue to press for economic and political reform.”
“I find Whigs to be most disagreeable.”
“That is a polite way to call them bothersome.”
Charles chuckled. “That it is,” he said. “I prefer to keep the peace, but Whigs are determined to voice their opinions.”
“That they are,” he readily agreed. “Have you considered my offer of acquiring you a seat in the House of Commons?”
Charles shook his head. “I do not believe I am ready for politics.”
“That is a shame.”
“I prefer spending my time with antiquities.”
Roswell lifted his brow. “That is an odd pastime to have.”
“It isn’t just a pastime,” Charles defended. “I own a percentage in a company that buys and sells antiquities, and it has been quite lucrative.”
Before Roswell could reply, his mother walked into the room with a solemn look on her face. She closed the door before she spoke. “I wanted to speak to you for a moment before the dinner bell rings,” she said.
Charles shifted in his chair to face her. “Is everything all right?”
Her mother bobbed her head. “It is, but Miss Bentley arrived a short time ago.”
Roswell groaned. “I hadn’t expected her so soon.”
“Neither did I, but I am pleased she is here.”
“Are you?” Roswell asked.
His mother smiled. “I am,” she replied. “I am looking forward to getting to know her better, and I daresay she looks just like her mother.”
“I have no intention of spending time with this country bumpkin,” Roswell pressed.
“That is terribly unfair of you to say,” his mother chided. “I have no doubt she is an accomplished young woman.”
Roswell frowned. “You will eventually come to see that this was a mistake,” he warned. “Miss Bentley has no place in our home.”
“I disagree,” his mother defended. “Besides, it will do us all some good to look past ourselves and help another.”
“She is a young woman with no dowry,” Roswell said. “I contend that no sensible gentleman will give her any heed.”
His mother gave him a displeased look. “I’m not asking you to befriend the girl, but will you not at least be civil to her?”
Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Roswell nodded. “I will be civil, but nothing more.”
“Thank you, Roswell.” She turned her gaze towards Charles. “Can I count on you to be civil, as well?”
Charles smiled. “You need not fear on that account.”
His mother gave him an approving nod. “Thank you,” she said. “That is a pleasure to hear.”
The dinner bell rang in the distance, beckoning them to the drawing room.
Roswell rose from his chair. “I suppose it is best to get this over with,” he muttered.
“Miss Bentley is a charming young woman,” his mother asserted. “I hope you will find her agreeable.”
