Читать книгу The Impossible Earl - Sarah Westleigh - Страница 8

Despite her fury, Leonora managed to consume two soft-boiled eggs and several crusty white rolls spread with butter, and to drink two cups of coffee. Anger made her hungry and the food was delicious.

“An excellent repast,” offered Clarissa as she, too, pushed her plate aside. She had broken her fast with kidneys and bacon.

“Yes.” Leonora was in no mood to be fulsome over anything which had its origins in Kelsey’s management. “Can you be ready to go out in half an hour?”

“I am ready now, except for my bonnet and cloak. Shall you take a sedan chair? I believe there is a rank nearby. Dolly should be able to find it.”

“Not this morning,” Leonora decided. “Mr Coggan’s chambers in High Street cannot be far away and I should like to see something of the town.”

“Oh, so should I,” cried Clarissa, her pale eyes shining. “I am so grateful to you for bringing me here, Leonora! The very atmosphere makes me feel quite young and giddy!”

“Does it?” So far, Leonora had not felt either young or giddy but that was because of the infamous use to which the Earl of Kelsey was putting her property. The only feelings she had known were those of uncomfortable awareness of his lordship’s personal charm and frustration and anger at his attitude. And utter mortification that he should think her old.

Mortification brought a lowering sense of unease to her entire being and she could feel a flush rising up her neck when she remembered his look and words. She would hazard a guess that she was several years younger than he was. But then, he was a man. He did not have to fear that his child-bearing years were dwindling with depressing rapidity.

She must make her utmost endeavours to have his lordship evicted. She jumped to her feet. “If you are ready, then we may leave immediately,” she declared. “Dolly, my bonnet, my cloak, gloves and muff if you please.”

She, like Clarissa, already wore her pelisse, for the morning was chilly and the fires had not yet had time to make the rooms warm.

Dolly dropped the dishes she was clearing with a clatter and rushed out, hurrying along the landing to the dressing room. Leonora followed her, shivering slightly at leaving even the comparative warmth of the dining room. She glanced quickly into the rather mottled mirror above her uncle’s dressing chest—she must do something about mirrors as soon as possible—as Dolly handed her her bonnet, and examined her features as best she could.

She undoubtedly lacked the fresh bloom of real youth, the bloom she had possessed at eighteen when her parents had died. But she did not look old.

He had not said that she did. He had only spoken the truth in such a way as to imply it. Devil take the man! Her soft mouth tightened as she determinedly thrust all thought of Lord Kelsey behind her. She did not have to think about him to arrange the termination of a lease.

With her outer garments on, she bobbed about and stood on tiptoe to see as much of herself as she could.

Depression settled in. No wonder the man was so scathing about her appearance. She looked every inch what she had been—a governess. She would never engage the attentions of a suitable gentleman of means dressed as she was. The second thing she must do was to buy some new clothes. Mr Coggan would know about her money, though she would doubtless be able to purchase what she needed on credit.

She passed through the comparative warmth of her bedroom to pick up her reticule and emerged on the chilly landing to find Clarissa waiting.

“You know what to do, Dolly,” said Leonora to her hovering maid. “Take the dirty breakfast things downstairs to the scullery and then come back and clean the rooms. Remember, we found the brooms and dusters in there.” She indicated the dark oak cupboard standing on the landing. “Have your dinner with the rest of the staff. I shall not trouble Monsieur André on the way out.”

She did not wish to make a production of her use of the back entrance but to slip out, as far as possible, unseen. “Tell him that I shall dine at four o’clock,” she went on. “If there is mutton I should like that, but otherwise whatever is available. I cannot fuss over what we shall eat today. Do you understand?”

“Oh, yes, miss,” said Dolly fervently.

She was devoted and willing and not the most able girl she had ever dealt with, but Leonora liked her and appreciated the effort the child made to please.

“By the way,” she said as an afterthought, turning back with her hand already on the knob of the door to the back stairs, “is your bed comfortable? You slept well?”

“The room’s lovely, miss, such a nice view as I’ve got, over the trees. I slept like a log.”

“Capital,” said Leonora with a smile. “I’ll leave you, then. Don’t forget to keep the fires stoked.”

“No, miss,” said Dolly with another bob.

Having descended the stairs, the two ladies passed through the scullery without speaking to the cook, who was busy at the far end of the kitchen.

Leonora’s only real disappointment in the actual property she had inherited was its lack of a garden, but the leafy green fronting it largely made up for this deficiency. It was, after all, a town house built before John Wood and his son had begun to build the Palladian-style terraces, with long gardens at the rear, which now prevailed in Bath. She was, indeed, rather glad that Morris House stood in isolation.

Mounting the back-area steps, they found themselves in a street they soon discovered was called Abbeygate.

“Which way?” wondered Leonora.

“The Abbey will be in the town,” suggested Clarissa.

Its tower beckoned. “Very well,” decided Leonora, “we will go to the Abbey and ask our way from there.”

“It truly is a huge building,” murmured Clarissa as they walked its length to arrive at the West Front. “Dare we go in?”

“It is so,” agreed Leonora “But we must not linger. I have no appointment and we may have to wait to see the lawyer.”

“We could attend a service here on Sunday,” suggested Clarissa.

“Perhaps,” said Leonora. She did not intend to be seen in public before she had acquired a more becoming wardrobe.

High Street was nearby and they had no difficulty in finding Mr Coggan’s offices. He, it seemed, was free to see Miss Vincent immediately.

“Good luck,” murmured Clarissa as she took the seat offered by a clerk and prepared to wait.

Leonora was ushered into a dimly lit room where she discovered a youngish man in legal garb, who rose from a chair behind a desk strewn with parchments and papers intertwined with red tape, to greet her.

“Miss Vincent! A privilege to meet you,” he cried, bowing deeply before asking her to be seated and sitting down again himself. “Sadly,” he went on, “I never knew Mr Charles Vincent, but Mr Warwick asked me to represent him here in Bath, and to act in your interests as beneficiary under Mr Vincent’s Will. You have appointed him to act for you in other matters?”

“No,” said Leonora, frowning. “He is, I suppose, not acting for me but for my uncle still, as his executor. It did not occur to me that I myself had need for a lawyer.”

“I should be delighted…should you think it in your interests…should it please you…to act for you in whatever way you might need, Miss Vincent,” he said, eagerly yet with a diffidence which appealed to Leonora.

He was really quite a personable creature, even distinguished, in his wig. He was young, keen and surely ambitious. He might be just the one to take on the Earl.

“You have met Lord Kelsey?” she asked, without committing herself.

“Once, Miss Vincent. To inform him of your being named as beneficiary under Mr Charles Vincent’s Will.”

“And what was his reaction, pray?”

Coggan looked embarrassed. He flushed. “He was dismayed,” he admitted. “He proposed to offer you a sum of money to purchase the house. Has he done so?”

“He has. And I have refused. Morris House is mine, is it not? There can be no question under the Will?”

“Indeed, no, madam. You have taken possession of the property, its deeds and all the investments have been transferred to your name and the cash rests in an account at the bank in Milsom Street, which needs only your signature to make it operable. No doubt you will present yourself there as soon as possible.”

Leonora nodded.

Coggan resumed speaking. “I have presumed to write a note of introduction to the manager. Thus the Will has been fully executed. Mr Warwick’s duty, and therefore mine, is at an end.”

“Thank you,” murmured Leonora, accepting the sealed paper handed to her. “Mr Coggan,” she went on, tucking it into her reticule, “I shall be glad if you will advise me on the matter of the lease.”

“Ah,” said the lawyer thoughtfully. “You are dissatisfied with the terms? They could, by agreement, be amended.”

“I want it terminated,” said Leonora baldly.

“Terminated,” repeated Coggan. His voice had gone flat. “I do not believe that to be possible, except, of course, by agreement. I take it Lord Kelsey is not willing?”

“No. But I want him out. I cannot endure to have a gambling hell on my property.”

“A hell?” Coggan sounded surprised. “Do you have proof of your contention, Miss Vincent? As far as I am aware, the Vitus Club is a legitimate business and the use of the rooms for the purposes of cards and gaming is not forbidden in the lease.”

“Then find proof that Lord Kelsey is in some other way breaking the terms of his lease or even of breaking the law! I cannot believe that he does not use the Club as a cover for relieving gullible gentlemen of their fortunes. Small establishments are notorious for this.”

“Gentlemen lose fortunes at White’s, Brooks’s and Boodle’s, madam. No one condemns those clubs as gambling hells.”

Leonora rose. “I see you are on Lord Kelsey’s side,” she said stiffly. “Thank you for your time. I must seek another lawyer to represent me.”

Coggan jumped to his feet. His wig slipped and he clapped it hastily back into place. “No, Miss Vincent. You mistake me. I am not on his lordship’s side. I merely point out to you the difficulty you face in attempting to overthrow the lease if his lordship is determined to remain in possession of his rooms. Do please sit down again and let us discuss the matter further.”

Leonora sat. She liked Coggan and thought him honest. But as the discussion continued, she came to see that there was little either she or her lawyer could do to evict Lord Kelsey unless he was proved to be violating the terms of the lease.

“He must be,” said Leonora with growing lack of conviction. “Find someone who will investigate the way he runs the business. Find someone he has fleeced.”

“I will do my utmost,” promised Coggan.

And with that Leonora had to be content. For the moment.

“I have to go to the bank,” she told Clarissa as they left Coggan’s offices. “This way, I believe.”

The streets were narrow and busy. Leonora and her companion picked their way through to Milsom Street, eyeing the shops and the dressmakers’ and milliners’ establishments on their way.

“There is the circulating library!” exclaimed Clarissa suddenly.

Leonora was engaged in looking for the bank, but was sufficiently interested to stop and take a good look at the quite impressive façade of the library. “We must take out subscriptions,” she declared. “But look, there is the bank. Why do you not go into the library and make enquiries? I will join you there when I have finished my business.”

She had almost reached her destination when she recognised the gentleman walking towards her. He wore a many-caped top coat, a tall hat set at a rakish angle on his brown head, carried a silver-knobbed cane and had a ravishing female dressed in blue velvet and sable fur on his arm.

Kelsey. She could not ignore him. She acknowledged his pleasant but formal greeting with the courtesy demanded.

He turned, smiling, to his companion. “Alicia, may I name to you Miss Vincent, the new owner of the property in which the Vitus Club has its rooms?”

The woman’s scrutiny held slightly amused interest. “Of course,” she murmured. Leonora suspected that she had been the subject of some earlier discussion between them.

“Miss Vincent,” he drawled, “I have pleasure in presenting you to Lady O’Brien.”

“My dear!” exclaimed her ladyship once the formal curtsies and avowals of pleasure had been made. “How intrigued I was to learn of your good fortune! My husband is one of the Vitus Club’s most devoted members!”

Leonora did not know of the O’Briens or what rank the woman’s husband held. She forced an amiable smile, inclined her head in acknowledgment of the pleasantry but said nothing.

“You are alone?” asked Kelsey. He sounded disapproving.

“My companion is in the circulating library,” said Leonora shortly. “I shall join her there after I have seen my bank manager.”

“Ah! Money!” sighed Lady O’Brien. “How it rules our lives!” She did not appear to study Leonora’s dress but was moved to say, “You must allow me to recommend my excellent modiste, Madame Fleur—so clever, so reasonable! Her establishment is in New Bond Street—you may have passed it?”

“I believe we did, my lady. I thank you for your interest. I shall, of course, be renewing my wardrobe now I have the means at my disposal.”

“There is a fine emporium for gloves and other accessories further down. Shopping in Milsom Street is vastly rewarding.”

“So I suppose. I look forward to investigating at my leisure.”

“I will leave my card,” promised her ladyship, preparing to move on. “You must call on me, I am at home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I look forward to meeting you again. And now, Blaise, we must take our leave of your friend, for I have an appointment at my milliner’s—another excellent creature, Miss Vincent, her place is next door to the dressmaker—and I must not be late.”

Blaise. Blaise Dancer. So that was his name. And the woman who had erroneously called her his friend was looking up at him in a way that suggested to Leonora that they were rather more intimate than that, more intimate than the lady’s husband might wish.

He was returning the look. Leonora became hot under her collar despite the chilly wind. She bent her knee in farewell and hurried on.

The encounter disturbed her. She had imagined Kelsey safely caged in his Club but, of course, he had a manager. He could come and go as he wished. She could never count on not meeting him when out and about in Bath. She would feel better able to cope with chance meetings after she had been to the modiste.

She was in two minds as to whether to patronise Lady O’Brien’s dressmaker but had to admit that her ladyship had been tastefully gowned in the height of fashion. Whatever her morals, she possessed stunning good looks, knew what suited her—the sable furs had emphasised the spun-gold of her hair and the fairness of her skin—and looked every inch a lady. No wonder Kelsey had fallen victim to her lures.

But in all probability she had purchased her clothes in London. Her recommendation may not have been kindly meant.

She forgot Kelsey and his mistress while with the bank manager, emerging from his presence with a cheque book, a pouch of golden guineas and a wad of Bank of England notes complete with the recently introduced serial numbers. She had never felt so rich.

She sailed out of the bank, walked to the library with a spring in her step, discovered Clarissa engrossed in a book by Mrs Radcliffe, paid her own subscription out of the haul from the bank and took out a novel by a writer more to her own taste, Mansfield Park by Miss Austen.

“Come with me to the dressmaker,” she invited Clarissa as they left the library. “I met Lord Kelsey on my way to the bank, and he had a lady with him—a Lady O’Brien. She has recommended me to visit Madame Fleur. I shall go, but am not perfectly persuaded that she will suit.”

“I shall be most interested. Papa gave me some money before I left,” Clarissa told her. “I must have a new gown if we are to visit the Assembly Rooms.”

“Then perhaps we may both be suited.”

Leonora did not mind Clarissa patronising the same modiste if she could afford it. A well-dressed companion would add to her own consequence, which she had already decided to enhance in every way within her power. No one knew the exact extent of her inheritance. There could be no harm in her aim to persuade Bath society that it must be much larger than it was. To instil such a belief remained an essential element in her campaign.

As they arrived at Madame Fleur’s, Lord Kelsey was leaving the milliner’ next door.

“Ladies,” he murmured, raising his hat.

“Lord Kelsey. We meet again,” said Leonora, stifling a desire to scream. “You have abandoned Lady O’Brien?”

“She understands that I have urgent business to attend to, Miss Vincent. During your inspection yesterday I noticed that the carpet in the Dining Room is showing signs of wear. I must arrange for it to be replaced. I am about to drive to Bristol to visit an excellent warehouse I know of there. Should you desire to renew any of your own carpets, I can strongly recommend it.”

“Thank you,” said Leonora icily.

He went on, quite unperturbed by her tone. “My oddjob man is already attending to the faulty paintwork. Do you have a mason in mind who will attend to the rear wall?”

The desire to scream increased. “Whom did my uncle intend to consult?” asked Leonora grimly, torn between independence and ignorance. The last thing she wanted to do was receive help from the Earl.

“A man called Black, I believe. He has a yard on the outskirts of the town.” He smiled engagingly but the dark eyes taunted. “Shall I send a boy with a message asking him to call?”

“Thank you, but no. If you will supply the direction, I shall send a note myself.”

“With pleasure, Miss Vincent. I shall see that the information is provided without delay.” He bowed. “Miss Vincent. Miss Worth. I bid you good day.”

Clarissa, blushing, returned his smile. Leonora merely inclined her head. Both ladies watched his retreating figure. He strode along, his stick swinging, as though he had not a care in the world.

Leonora indulged her desire. “Ar-r-gh!” she uttered.

Clarissa eyed her warily. “You dislike the Earl?” she asked diffidently.

“He sets my teeth on edge,” said Leonora grimly. Her teeth were not the only parts of her anatomy he put on edge. “There can be no place for his business on my property.”

“I cannot see that his Club is so very objectionable,” said Clarissa. “And I find him pleasant enough.”

She was blushing again. Leonora glared. “Of course he has a pleasant manner! That is all part of his despicable character!”

“You cannot know that his character is despicable!” protested Clarissa with unusual heat.

Everyone thought her unwarrantably prejudiced, irrational, even obsessed by her opposition to gambling for high stakes. But the discovery of a gambling club on her own property had shaken her badly. Even to herself she would not admit that her main battle now was against herself and her reaction to Lord Kelsey.

For however much her body might wish otherwise, her mind insisted that he was a rogue, a rake, and not a suitable gentleman of means to be lured into the bonds of matrimony.

Madame Fleur, petite and voluble, had an impressive variety of made-up gowns on display.

Her assistants fluttered in the background as she explained, that madame could have any of the finished garments altered to fit. Her English was almost faultless.

“Or I can make up any of the designs in another material and to your exact measurements. Or, if madame prefers, I could suggest some slight alterations to any pattern, or create something exclusively for you.”

Her practised eye ran down Leonora’s person and back up again. The cloak had already been discarded. Now Madame Fleur suggested that she take off her bonnet and pelisse. After another close scrutiny, she announced her verdict.

“ Madame has a figure that will display my creations to admiration. So shapely, so graceful! I shall be delighted to dress you if you will honour me with your order.”

Prices were discussed. Leonora realised that to have a dress designed exclusively for herself did not come cheap. She could allow herself one, perhaps, for special evening occasions. For the rest, she could select from those delectable muslins, silks and velvets already made up and on display. Her eyes glowed. Choosing from those, she could instantly be gowned as she would wish.

Clarissa was much taken by a white muslin, but the style was more suitable for a young girl and the colour would most certainly emphasise her sallow complexion, Leonora knew. She was reassured to hear the modiste skilfully turn her companion’s attention to a rose-tinted gown patterned in mulberry, a shade which reflected a faint glow to her skin.

Leonora herself could wear white. She was entranced by an exquisite evening gown in white silk with an overskirt of the flimsiest oyster-coloured chiffon, which shimmered in the light. It had satin ribbon trimmings. The neckline was modest and the fashionable sleeves long, which, being winter, would be an advantage.

The price was high but it needed the minimum of alteration and Leonora, turning about before the mirror, decided that she would enjoy presenting herself at a concert at the Assembly Rooms wearing it. It would do excellently well were she to be invited somewhere to dine. Regardless of the cost, she bought it.

Her other purchases were more modest: a couple of pale-coloured muslins for the morning in simple styles—though one needed some of what Leonora considered to be excessive frills removed—a walking or driving dress made from a wool and cotton mixture in an attractive shade of green trimmed with dark green velvet, a matching pelisse and a less costly evening dress in pale primrose muslin with a low neckline and short puffed sleeves for dancing.

She had no idea whether she would ever be invited to a private ball of any consequence but could not resist the temptation to order a gown in case. Surely, one day, particularly should she attach the interest of an acceptable suitor, the occasion to wear it would present itself. Madame was delighted to bring all her artistic talents to bear and promised Leonora a stunning creation.

“Your eyes,” she murmured. “Let me see.” She rummaged amongst her samples and returned with a length of shimmering aquamarine silk, which she draped over Leonora’s shoulder. “Yes. This will enhance your beautiful eyes. Trimmed with ivory and gold…Yes. A low neckline—”

“Not too low,” interrupted Leonora quickly.

Madame Fleur smiled. “Trust me, madame. Modest yet revealing. The skirt gathered at the back to give you room…Elegant and stylish—fit for a duchess!”

Leonora hoped so, considering the huge sum it was to cost her.

Being minor, the necessary alterations to those gowns which were already made up could be accomplished overnight. They would be delivered next day. Those made from the same patterns but in a different colour or material, within the week. The special ball gown would take a little longer. Madame would have to return for a second fitting in a few days.

“I shall bring the altered gowns to you myself,” announced Madame Fleur. “I must be satisfied that there are no further adjustments needed.”

“That is most kind of you, madame,” said Leonora.

“Mine will be delivered too?” asked Clarissa anxiously. As well as the ball gown, she had ordered a modest walking dress in heavy russet twill trimmed with coney.

“Indeed, Miss Worth.”

For the first time, Leonora was faced with the difficulty of explaining her predicament.

“Once I have terminated the lease and the Vitus Club has moved out there will be no problem,” she explained. “But meanwhile, if you cannot deliver before ten o’clock then you must use the back stairs. I am sorry. The situation is not of my choosing.”

“How unfortunate for you!” exclaimed Madame Fleur. “I know Lord Kelsey, a quite superior gentleman,” she added with distinct admiration. “He has been in here with…er…”

She trailed off in confusion.

“Lady O’Brien,” supplied Leonora drily. “She recommended me to visit you.”

“I must thank her! She is an excellent customer. Her husband the Baron, you understand, is elderly and rather infirm. They are in Bath to enable him to take the waters.”

And if he was like to die, then to obtain the hand of an earl in marriage would be a step up the social ladder for his widow, thought Leonora rather sourly.

“Is he very ill?” asked Clarissa.

Leonora, grateful for the question she had not liked to ask, concentrated on smoothing her gloves.

“Gout,” said Madame Fleur succinctly.

Looking up, Leonora saw her own relief, which she declined to acknowledge, mirrored on Clarissa’s face. Surely Clarissa had not decided to set her cap at Kelsey? The idea was ludicrous.

The modiste was still talking. “But the Club is popular and Lord Kelsey will not easily agree to change its location, I am certain. He has spent lavishly on refurbishing the place to make it more acceptable to his members. He must regret Mr Vincent’s death for many reasons. They were, I believe, on the best of terms.”

But he had not been in her uncle’s confidence regarding his Will. No one had been, it seemed. “I am sure he does,” concurred Leonora drily, donning her bonnet and cloak. “I will expect you tomorrow morning, then.”

“I shall come at nine, if that would suit you?”

“Capital,” agreed Leonora. The gowns could not arrive soon enough for her.

All they had to do now was to visit the milliner next door and then walk home without being noticed. Since Kelsey was going to Bristol she did not expect to encounter him again. But she particularly wished to avoid Lady O’Brien, too.

When she thought of Lady O’Brien, all sorts of complicated emotions coursed through her. The one she recognised was jealousy, and it irked her. But soon she would have no material cause to envy the delectable Alicia. With decent gowns and becoming hats to wear she would have no reason to feel loweringly dowdy and old-maidish in her presence.

Except that Lady O’Brien possessed an assured manner and an easy elegance Leonora knew that she herself lacked. Never having experienced a London Season and subsequently having been exiled from Society for seven long years, she had had no chance to acquire it.

Unaware that her own innate dignity, elegance and charm were far more engaging than the affected deportment of many a Society beauty, or that her sharp intelligence set her apart from the vapid nonentities trained by governesses at the prompting of proud mamas, and could captivate far more effectively than demure acquiescence, she decided that she must learn fast.

With her new wardrobe to keep in trim she needed a lady’s maid, someone who could also do clever things with her hair, perhaps provide her with the perfect grooming needed for her to take her place in Society with a similar degree of confidence.

Then she would be able to meet her ladyship without suffering those uncomfortable pangs of jealousy the woman’s manner and appearance inspired. The fact that Alicia was also blessed with looks any man must admire caused Leonora little concern. Any gentleman she might consider suitable as a husband would not be misled by a pretty face alone. He would admire character above beauty.

No, it was the creature’s dress and grooming that had given Leonora that lowering feeling of inferiority. That sudden burst of jealousy.

Lady O’Brien had long ago left the milliner’s when Leonora, having first satisfied herself on the point, entered the workroom. By the time she left, with Clarissa carrying a bandbox, Leonora had discovered where to go to engage a lady’s maid. Clarissa dutifully accompanied her to the Agency where the woman promised to send along several highly qualified applicants that very afternoon.

“She will have to sleep in my dressing room,” Leonora told Clarissa as they at last made their way back to Morris House. “I shall lose my privacy, but there is a bed in there.”

“She would not like to sleep in the attics,” observed Clarissa.

She had bought a bonnet in brown velvet to match her new walking gown. Leonora had purchased and was wearing a hat with a small brim and a dashing bunch of feathers in a neutral yet pretty shade of grey and had ordered a similar hat to be fashioned from the same velvet used to trim her new walking gown. She had been promised that tomorrow morning as well. The milliner would obtain the material from Madame Fleur and work all night if necessary to finish it.

They climbed the stairs and were met by a hugely beaming Dolly.

As she took their outer garments, she explained with gleeful satisfaction that they could have a pot of tea and toasted muffins straight away, if they liked. Since they were back earlier than expected, four o’clock and the dinner she had ordered—mutton was available as miss had requested—was still more than an hour off. But she had borrowed a kettle and teapot from the kitchen, and the cook had given her tea, milk, sugar, muffins and butter.

“You sees, miss, there are trivets as can be turned over the coals and I found a toasting fork among the fire irons. So I asked downstairs and he were only too happy to oblige.”

“Well done, Dolly,” Leonora praised the girl, who had shown surprising initiative. “I should be most grateful for tea and muffins.”

“The kettle’s singing on the hob,” said Dolly smugly, dumping their garments on one of the chairs furnishing the hallway. “The tea can brew while I toasts the muffins.”

By the time Leonora had washed her hands and tidied her hair the tea was ready. The muffins, running with melted butter, proved delicious. Seeing Dolly’s longing gaze, Leonora offered her one. Not until that moment did she realise that Dolly had nowhere nearby that she could go to eat it except up to her room in the roof.

“Is there a bell in your room, Dolly?” she asked.

“Yes, miss, but it don’t ring. Not like them in the servants’ hall. If I was down there I’d soon know if you wanted me.”

“I dare say the one upstairs is not connected. Mention it to Mrs Parkes, tell her I would like it to work. Then you would be able to go to your room whenever you are not needed and do not wish to go down to the basement. Go up there now, Dolly. I shall call if I need you.”

Tomorrow she must remember to see about the mason.

“Shall you go to the Pump Room and sign the book tomorrow?” asked Clarissa.

That, too. Once she was decently gowned.

The third lady’s maid Leonora interviewed proved to be youthful but experienced. Her mistress had come to Bath for her health and had died a week since, she explained. She had references…

Leonora read them, smiled at the woman, calm, capable, neatly dressed and probably about Clarissa’s age, and offered Juliette Tranton the position.

Juliette smiled, accepted without hesitation, and took up her post immediately. She only had to collect her trunk.

Leonora felt that by tomorrow she would almost be set up in the style she wished. A carriage of her own would not be practicable in Bath. If she wished to drive out into the country she could always hire an outfit. There were still one or two ends to be neatened off, but by and large she was settled.

Apart from the nagging irritation of having Lord Kelsey’s Vitus Club operating below. The rumble of men’s voices, the occasional burst of laughter, could not fail to remind her. The sounds were not overly intrusive, but they were there in the background. And during the day she could not use her own front door to receive callers.

Which was intolerable.