by Fanny Finch
She had been fortunate. Finding a room for rent at such short notice was uncommon. But she had managed to get one just two days after being sent away by the Earl and now, here she was. Five days had passed and already her health had deteriorated.
Delia had left without taking the last of her pay, which she deemed reasonable. Even if the Earl had thought to give it to her, she couldn’t have taken it. Not after all that had occurred.
So she had little to live off. Barely enough for another week’s rent in the city that seemed to cost a fortune to live in.
She had spent her days trying to apply for new positions, of any sort. But it quickly became clear that news of her had spread. Of all the letters, only one received a reply, which was a letter expressing that the potential employer had learned that she had a poor work ethic and was afraid he could not possibly consider her for the position.
When Delia had read this letter, she sat on her bed and tears filled her eyes. The words were a slap and she could hardly face them. To know that she was thought so poorly of was a humiliation and embarrassment beyond her imagining. There was nothing that she could do to overcome it. There was nothing that could make her feel better when all of this was happening.
She could only hold onto the meager hope that someone might see potential in her. That someone might be able to look past what had occurred.
Clearly the Earl, or more likely the Baron, had told all of society about her failures. Whatever it was, Delia realized that she had little hope at all of finding a new position anywhere quickly.
And without the hope of a new position, she might have little choice but to confess everything to her sister.
Delia sighed and lit a candle to brighten up the dark room. It was fine for her to be in the dark when she was simply sitting, feeling depressed and angry about her decisions, but not if she was going to try and do something.
So she put the pen to paper, telling Thea only that she would be coming and might have no choice but to stay for a time. Possibly a long period of time.
Wondering if she ought to share the full story, Delia decided against it, realizing it would be better told in person. Thea would be more inclined to understand all of it that way.
Her letter was long but enclosed very little information.
In all, it seemed to be a waste of her time, but Delia knew that she had no other options. So with that in mind, she made her way into the stifling streets to send the letter.
The narrow, crowded streets were loud with the sound of men who had begun to drink far too early in the day. Women begged and children stole, all trying to survive the refuse of London.
Delia wished that she had the apartments from before she took the position with the Earl of Dulshire. Back then, she had thought them small and dreary. But they were nothing so awful as this.
Yes, perhaps if she managed to get to her sister’s home, all would be truly well.
Receiving a series of sneers and leers, Delia wished she could run back to her rooms and hide. But instead, she pushed through the people, trying not to gag from the stench.
She stopped to get a paper from one of the boys on the street, knowing she hadn’t checked the adverts for the day and it was possible that another position had come up. After all, she had to keep looking, even if it was hopeless.
She coughed for a moment, trying to expel the polluted air that was filling her lungs each day. A shiver ran down her spine and she thought she might really be getting ill. Delia tried to push the thought away. She didn’t have time for illness.
Nor did she have the funds for a doctor and that was a far more serious consequence of having lost her position. She was unable to take care of herself and that left her feeling entirely miserable with the crippling shame.
Delia considered that she might look around Cambridge while she was with her sister. If she could not work in London, she could certainly work elsewhere.
And yet, despite the smog and drear of London, she could not help but love it. It was not always as it felt now. Oftentimes, it felt more like home than the one in which she had grown up. Only now, when things were dark, and when she could only afford the worst of rooms, did she find London to be a mess.
“Paper, Miss?” the boy asked.
“Indeed, if you please,” she replied, putting the coin in his hand and taking the paper in return.
She would look more closely later, but Delia paused to glance through it quickly.
She saw very little, but was happy to note that there seemed to be more that day. Perhaps some were just outside of London and she might be able to remain close to the city but with people outside of the primary society.
Maybe there were still those who had not heard of her failings. Perhaps some might be able to show her a bit of grace and mercy.
With that thought, that one last breath of hope, Delia moved forward. She continued walking past a pastry shop and another selling meat pies that smelled rather delicious.
When Delia reached the office for leaving her letter, she handed it to the young woman there who looked at her curiously, then at the letter.
“Are you waitin’ on a letter yersel’?” the young woman asked.
Delia looked at her in confusion. She certainly did not anticipate receiving any letters. No one knew exactly where she was, after all. It was not as though she had been open about her situation. But it was a strange question to be asked and Delia was curious about it.
“I hardly know,” Delia shrugged.
“We got a letter addressed to someone with yer name on it, but it ain’t got an address,” she continued.
“Well, if it has my name then it certainly is possible,” Delia said.
“I don’ know to be sure, but let me check,” the young woman said, trying to remember. She came back out nodding her head enthusiastically.
“Aye, it’s for ye, after all,” the employee confirmed. “Unless of cour’ there’s another Delia Caulfield running around the streets o’ London. But I’m guessing there aren’ too many o’ ye.”
Delia tried to smile in reply, but her curiosity was stronger than her politeness. She just wanted the letter in her own hands, but the young woman seemed more distracted by the fact that it was for Delia than actually handing it over.
“May I?” Delia finally said.
“Oh! Right, of cour’,” the girl said.
She then pulled out the letter from behind her back and Delia saw that it was, indeed, addressed to her. But for the place of residency, the sender had only written that she would be somewhere in London. In other words, there was absolutely no chance that Delia might have ever received this letter had she not happened to come that day.
It was strange, but more than anything, Delia was curious. She quickly paid to send the letter to her sister before taking the other and rushing back to her rooms. She had to know, urgently, who it was from.
Ignoring the biting hunger in the pit of her stomach, Delia rushed up the stairs. Closing the door behind herself, she rushed over to the bed and sat.
For a moment, a cough wracked her body and Delia gasped for air, feeling the liquid in her lungs.
Delia carefully opened the paper, wondering if she might be disappointed to find that it was just another job refusal. But instead, she saw a familiar handwriting that warmed her heart.
The letter was from Amy. Immediately, Delia felt a sense of comfort and peace. Her friend had not forgotten her. She was remembered, after all.
Dearest Delia,
I am utterly heartbroken that you have departed from us. Your kindness and warmth are gone and, with it, the hope of the household had faded. All seems dreary and bleak.
Grace misses you something fierce. The Earl of Dulshire has allowed me to keep her going with basic education for a couple hours each day, but I know it is not a long-term solution. Grace needs a proper governess and I can see the regret in his eyes when he considers that he lost the best.
I do believe that he misses you as well, al
though I know that I have no place to make such a statement.
I wished to inform you of the information which I have come by in the time since your departure. You see, I am acquainted with a maid who is acquainted with another and all that to say, I spoke with the housekeeper from the Baron’s home.
My dear, not only has he done all he can to slander your work ethic in the time since you have departed, but he has boasted within his home about sharing your secret. He has used it to threaten his own employees into submission. What a horrid man he is!
The housekeeper, a Mrs. Hansfeld, has said that he spoke well of himself for taking his revenge upon his enemy, the Earl of Dulshire. He has delivered the news with great pride. Of course, he tries to keep that within the home so as not to spoil his own image.
So, you see, he was certainly the one who sought to get your sent away from here. He believes that the Earl is deeply in love with you. And as the Earl took the woman loved by the Baron, the Baron sought to destroy all that might lie between yourself and the Earl.
A wicked man, to be sure. I am so, utterly sorry that you have gotten stuck in the midst of all of this. You never deserved it.
But I do wish for you to know that a change has come upon the staff in your absence. A change in which you are very much missed and spoken of rather highly.
I should also like to tell you not to lose hope. Everything will be set right again. Hold onto your faith, for there are times ahead when this shall all be forgotten.
With all my care,
Amy
Delia read through the letter once more, immediately. She knew she had to pen a response and inform Amy that she would be staying with her sister at a different address. Realizing that Amy would not know that the home she was going to was that of the Duke of Sandon, she gave it freely, hoping that she might receive another letter in the future from her friend.
With that, Delia quickly rushed outside and back to the post station. This time, the air did not seem so hazardous. It was lighter, freer, and with far fewer unpleasant smells.
Indeed, Amy had brightened her day significantly. She hoped that the momentum would continue and that all would soon be right.
Chapter 34
“I’ll take care of her. Please do not worry yourself,” the Earl said, dismissing the maid, Miss Amy.
The young woman looked almost reluctant. He had seen that expression a lot recently. Many of his staff had grown quiet and careful, not nearly like they had been previously when he worried that he was being taken advantage of.
No, rather, they all seemed frightened of him now. And perhaps a little bit angry.
The Earl was already missing Miss Caulfield. He tried to push away the regret, but it remained. He had fallen in love with her and she had hurt him. So he pushed her away. Angrily.
The Earl of Dulshire had never been known for his anger, but that seemed to be changing. Even one evening that week, he had received a remark from a gentleman about how he was learning to be a man.
But that had never been his goal. He never cared to be seen as a man. He wished only to be seen as a good man.
Miss Amy had done well in looking after Grace at times so that Mrs. Andrews wasn’t burdened. Not that she would complain anymore. But the Earl knew that his daughter would not receive the best of care from her.
And while the young maid was trying to continue to help Grace with small, simple education, the Earl knew that he would have to find another governess. Someone clever. Someone strong.
But no one would replace Miss Caulfield.
In the meantime, he was enjoying the excuse to spend more time with his daughter. He saw how Grace smiles when he showed her care. And yet a cloud seemed to continue to hang over her.
She came into his study and the Earl gestures for Grace to sit on his lap.
“Hello, my dear!” he greeted.
“Papa,” she replied.
Her tone was not that of joy, but one of resigned sadness.
“What is it, my dear?” he asked.
“Why did she go? Why didn’t Miss Caulfield love me enough to stay?” she asked bluntly and innocently.
The Earl found himself utterly crushed by the question. He was heartbroken that his daughter was so wounded from a departure that he had demanded.
No matter that he was justified in being angry for not knowing. He ought to have handled it all better. He ought to have taken better care and addressed it without so much emotion.
“Grace, darling, she loved you very much,” he said tenderly. “That has no bearing in her leaving. But Miss Caulfield had to handle some things in her life. She could not take care of them here.”
“But why were you so angry at her?” came the following question.
The Earl hesitated, unsure how he might explain that to his daughter.
“She made a mistake, my dear. And that is what she must now take care of. She loves you very much though and I shall see to it that you do not forget that,” the Earl promised.
Grace did not seem pacified, but there was little that the Earl could do. As much as he hated the decision he had made, it had been the right one. It had been the decision best for his home and his daughter.
Grace hopped down and moved into her own chair where she leaned back and stared at the walls, clearly bored. Wondering how he might be able to brighten her spirits, the Earl sighed, looking out the window. Perhaps a walk would get the child’s mind off of everything else.
“Grace, how should you like to go for a walk?” he inquired.
She looked at him with very little expression, almost as though she were ill.
“I feel tired,” she said in reply.
The Earl had sensed such a change in his daughter’s person that he was now beginning to worry. If Grace could not be moved, if she could not lift her heart, then what was he to do?
A new governess would not fix the departure of the old one. Miss Caulfield had been such a treasure for his daughter and he knew well that hoping for anything different, for her to simply recover, was unlikely.
With that, the Earl sighed again. He stood and opened the window to allow a fresh breeze. At least it might bring in some air that could freshen his daughter’s spirit. Even if it did little more than that.
“Are you enjoying your studies with Miss Amy?” the Earl asked.
“I miss French,” Grace replied. The Earl knew well that ‘French’ meant Miss Caulfield. His daughter was not missing a language nearly so deeply as the one who taught her that language.
The fresh air did very little to boost the spirits of either of them. Rather, the quiet was peaceful, but bland.
“Right then, let us go outside. Even if for a short time,” the Earl instructed in an enthusiastic voice, hoping to motivate his daughter.
He jumped up from the chair and ushered Grace to follow him out of the study and, finally, out through the doors.
When they reached the gardens outside, the Earl expected his daughter to freely move about in the sunshine, enjoying the air even if it was reluctant.
But that was not to be the case.
Grace remained subdued and unhappy.
No matter how the Earl tried, no matter how he sought to bring her happiness, she was lethargic and preferred to sit on the ground, dirtying her dress, and pick blades of grass from the earth.
It was not long before they settled to return back inside and Grace made her way silently up the stairs and into the library.
The Earl of Dulshire felt like failure. How could he have allowed his daughter to come to such a place? How could she have grown so sad and undone by him releasing Miss Caulfield?
“My lord?” came Miss Amy’s voice form behind.
The Earl turned and saw her standing, looking quite determined, although it was, evidently, a veneer to hide her fear.
“Yes? What is it?” he asked gently, trying to regain his former kindness that his employees had grown accustomed to.
“I should like to speak with you. In your
study, if possible,” the maid informed him.
The Earl was surprised by this. The young woman had never shown any sort of behavior that might indicate the strength to demand his ear.
“Of course, please. Come this way,” he said, gesturing for her to follow him.
When they were inside the study, the Earl sat, but the maid did not.
“You may have a seat,” he instructed.
“No, thank you, my lord,” she replied, holding her head high.