“Ooh!” Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide as she likewise took in the room. “Who on earth would call in this weather?”
Unable to conjure anyone foolish enough to ruin her dress by embarking outdoors, I shook my head.
Mrs. Windham’s rustling skirts sounded behind us as she emerged from her bedchamber, smoothing her bodice. Upon spotting us, her eyes narrowed at me. “For heaven’s sake, Julia! What on earth are you thinking, wearing that?”
I glanced down at the dress I’d worn every day this week. After my father’s death, I’d dyed it black because the sleeves were already too short. Mama hadn’t ruined any of her good dresses either, stating there wasn’t need, as we were not truly mourning.
“Why?” Mrs. Windham’s mouth trembled as her eyes screwed up with tears. “Why would you wear that?”
I gave her a slight curtsy. “I had not an idea it offended you.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Mrs. Windham’s tears dried as suddenly as they had appeared at the sharp rap which sounded on the front door. “Make haste! Do not stand there babbling. Have the goodness to go change. Hasten back.”
I obeyed, listening to the bustle of the house as I started to unbutton my dress. When Hannah’s trundling footsteps sounded in the hall, I knew tea had been delivered. There was no time. I gave up, rebuttoned myself, and grabbed a shawl to hide the deficiency before hurrying down the hall, wondering whose visit had caused such a commotion.
As I opened the drawing room door, however, I caught sight of Elizabeth, sitting arms crossed. Giving me a look as black as thunder, she silently communicated all was not well.
“. . . you’ll soon see for yourself,” Mrs. Windham was saying, still shielded from my sight by the door. “Such a charming young lady. Such air and grace. Ah, I believe she is here now. Julia, please enter.”
Enter I did, though in utter confusion.
Mrs. Windham gave me her evil eye upon finding me in the same clothing, but I scarcely noted it as my gaze was drawn across the room. The woman seated there was nothing like the normal guests who flowed through Am Meer, plump and gaily dressed. Her narrowness made her elbows and shoulders seem as though they stuck out at odd angles. Drenched ostrich feathers hung limply from her hat and straggled down her back. She clutched a stained drawstring purse against her stomach. Her mouth soured as she stared at me. “This is the girl?”
“Yes. Quite lovely, is she not?” Mrs. Windham forced a laugh, waving me forward. “Step into the light, Julia. Let Miss Pitts better view you. As you can see, she’s modest. Holds her tongue, keeps her place.”
“Fifty pounds, you say?” Miss Pitts’s tone was clipped.
“Yes, fifty.” The false sweetness disappeared from Mrs. Windham’s voice.
I felt like stone as I stared in horror at this strange apparition. Then it flashed in my mind where I’d seen her before. Once, Elizabeth had pointed her out while we were at market, stating she made her living by arranging marriages amongst the lower classes. Even then, I’d inched closer to Mama, wondering who would trust such a miserly looking creature with their future.
“That’s not per annum, mind you,” Mrs. Windham said, moving toward me when I did nothing but stare. “This is coming straight from my purse. Just a one-time dowry, you understand.”
“Has she experience tending children?” Miss Pitts’s beady eyes blinked as she continued to examine me as one might a pig at market. “Hugh Kellie gots more’n he can handle. Think she can manage young Abe?”
Mrs. Windham made a snorting noise, pulling me two steps into the room. “No, indeed! I’ll only pay twenty if it’s to the likes of him. Haven’t you a merchant, at least? I tell you, she’s as good as a gentleman’s daughter. Too good for Hugh Kellie or his ilk.”
I turned my dazed stare on Mrs. Windham, wanting to remind her that I was a gentleman’s daughter, yet words fled me. All I could think was that my fortune had sunk so low that my only choices were to marry lowborn or become a servant.
Miss Pitts frowned. “Aye, but Kellie would be willing to start the banns this coming Sunday if the girl’s agreeable. You said the sooner the better. Fifty pounds would set him up right well and rid you of yer problem.” Her sharp gaze turned on me. “Hugh Kellie might not be a merchant, but his farm always turns a decent profit.”
“I tell you—” Mrs. Windham lifted both hands as if to push the idea away—“I shall not pay more than twenty for him. I do not like the man.”
Miss Pitts’s mouth twisted, but she appealed to me. “What say you?”
My mind whirled to comprehend this situation. Which was better—to take a husband, even a cottager, or to be banished to Scotland to nurse a bedridden woman? I felt myself flush scarlet as I confronted my dilemma, something I’d avoided brooding upon since learning that Edward had taken orders.
I started to shake my head in confusion. Then the stubborn part of my personality that neither my father nor my vicar—nay, not even Mama—had ever managed to squash rose up, fierce and protective. My voice trembled with anger as I turned to Mrs. Windham. “I will marry a gentleman or not at all. How dare you invite this woman here!”
Mrs. Windham’s mouth fell open. She tottered back a step, for she had never seen me in temper before.
“Oh, a hoity-toity one, ain’t she? Holds her tongue, keeps her place, indeed.” Miss Pitts stood and placed her hand on a protruding hip bone, giving me a long, hard look before she turned and gathered her wet shawl from where it was hanging over the chair. “Not a penny to her name, but only a gent will do. Too high-and-mighty for charity? Well mebbe I’m too good to offer her my services!”
Mrs. Windham gave a tittering laugh and hied from me to her. “Do not leave. I . . . I fear I made the mistake of mentioning Macy and Greenham on her first morning here.” Her mouth quivered as she laid her hand on Miss Pitts’s arm. “The child cherishes a notion of marrying one of them. It is a romantic fancy, nothing more. ’Tis all she speaks of. Mr. Greenham this, and Mr. Macy that, from dawn till dusk.”
I opened my mouth in disbelief.
“Ah, so you fancy her ladyship’s visitors, do you?” The visitor gave me a rude smile. “Aye, you and half of London are ready to seize those fortunes. But we must stay realistic.” As hastily as she’d taken up her shawl she put it down and retook her seat. She held out her hand, making known her wish for tea, which Mrs. Windham obliged.
“’Tis the first rule.” Miss Pitts stirred sugar into the brew, never taking her eyes off me. “Why, even in this here village, most of the girls hope I can persuade one of Lord Auburn’s lads to wife ’em. Not that I wouldn’t fancy that young vicar at nights for myself, aye?” To my horror, she gave a ribald laugh, exposing her rotted teeth and gums. “Not one of my girls married that high yet, missy, but as yer good friend Mrs. Windham can attest, I’ve found right many of them proper husbands, and most of ’em robust young lads too. Not a ol’ man amongst ’em, least not the dirty kind.”
I folded my hands over my bodice, unwilling to dignify such a speech with an answer. Mrs. Windham could not force me to marry, and I would not waste my breath acknowledging such a woman. Elizabeth also glared from the window seat.
“Good girl.” Miss Pitts gave me a nod and then turned to Mrs. Windham, who anxiously watched me. “Got common sense, leastwise. Knows a good argument when she meets it.” She gave me what I think she intended to be a friendly smile while I stiffened. “Can’t live here forever, can you, what with the price of meat the way it is? Trust ol’ Nellie to find you a proper husband. See if I don’t.”
“I’m determined,” Mrs. Windham said in a teary voice, mistaking my scorn for compliance, “to do right by her. She has not a soul in the world, except us. Lost her mother only five months ago and her father barely a year before, though that was no great loss. A more severe man I have yet to see. Used to speak to her and her mother terribly. I assure you, it quite curdled my blood to hear him rant so—”
“Mama,” Elizabeth hissed from her perch.
“Aye, that’s the wicked way of things.” Miss Pitts ignored them both, spreading her skirt over her lap. “As if we haven’t got enough problems of our own, and then someone offs and leaves their kin to live at yer expense. There’s no excuse for it.”
“I warrant you find her too thin and pale,” Mrs. Windham continued on her own vein. “I cannot present her to my acquaintances looking as worn as a shadow. But surely you know someone who won’t mind.”
I trembled with anger. Perhaps I ought to have picked up my skirts and swept from the room, but for some reason I wanted to know exactly how they evaluated my situation. What was being said there was likely the truest picture of everyone’s thoughts.
“’Tis bad enough birthing a daughter nowadays,” Miss Pitts said, her chair creaking despite the fact a good wind could have knocked her from her feet, “but to keep no dowry for ’em? Not a thought of who they’ll marry without a brass farthing to their name.”
“Mama.” Elizabeth’s quiet voice interrupted them. Her tone was soft but her cheeks blazed. “What has Julia’s guardian said about this arrangement?”
“Oh, do not speak to me of that dreadful man!” Mrs. Windham twisted to view her daughter. “Why should he care if we secure Julia a husband? Why else would he send her here? Even if he did protest, I am determined to fulfill my duty to poor Lucy.”
“But how do you think she will marry without her guardian’s approval? She’s not yet one-and-twenty.”
Mrs. Windham’s face grew purple as she gave Elizabeth a look that clearly demanded she remain quiet. “No one in this village cares about that. Do not bother me with your vexations. What objection can be raised if a merchant takes Julia on as his common-law wife?”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped as she sprang to her feet. “Do you not think he’ll feel it his duty to investigate the matter and press charges?”
Miss Pitts paled, but Mrs. Windham found her feet. “Of all the nonsense. Out! Both of you. You know nothing of these matters.”
She gave another tittering laugh over her shoulder as she gathered and then shoved us toward the door. A moment later, Elizabeth and I found ourselves in the hall, excommunicated.
“I can’t believe Mama!” Elizabeth kicked the door once. “Twenty pounds for Hugh Kellie, indeed! I wouldn’t sell him a sheep I intended to slaughter.”
With angry tears gathering in my eyes, I said nothing. I knew the deeper betrayal belonged to Mama. She abandoned me to these circumstances. At least Mrs. Windham was making an effort to secure my future, which was more than I could say of anyone else.
“What I’d like to know,” Elizabeth said as Mrs. Windham’s voice carried through the wood, words muffled, “is what on earth Edward thinks he’s doing! It’s been nearly a fortnight.” She perched her foot on the bottom step, but instead of going upstairs, she pressed her ear against the door and listened as the women inside continued their dialogue.
I retreated to the nearest chamber, a small room that held books and a desk where Mrs. Windham replied to correspondences. With only the company of a stiff wind rattling the windows, I sank into the chair behind the desk and took stock of my situation. I wasn’t sure whom to direct my choler toward—Mama for forsaking me, Edward for taking orders, or Mrs. Windham for being the first to acknowledge my true status.
I drew my shawl tighter, wondering if things had always been this way and I was only now waking up to it.
During my childhood, on summer evenings here, Mrs. Windham often pushed back the furniture in the drawing room so Elizabeth and I could practice dancing. Those nights were amongst the best of my memories. As I sat in the cold office, I recalled how the open windows framed starry skies and laved the room with the scent of roses. Had I been encouraged, I might have become an accomplished dancer. With hands posed femininely in the air, my feet took on a grace of their own as they chasséd back and forth to Elizabeth. Our nightgowns were swirls of white as Mrs. Windham swung her arms in three-counts, baa-baaing a minuet.
But sometimes between the twirling ribbons and peals of giggles, I’d catch sight of Mama and wish I hadn’t. Her expression reminded me of Sarah’s the time she was forced to drown a sack of unwanted kittens. I’d stumble in my steps, confused by her reaction, but by the time I spun again, she’d be focused on her needlework.
Miss Pitts’s vulgar laugh pierced through the wall, drawing me back from my memories. I leaned against the chair and wondered what I had done that caused Mama to leave me to fend for myself. I rested my head against the wall and deliberated whether marriage to Edward was still an option. Whether I could allow the church to become my asylum after all.
FOUR LONG DAYS passed after Miss Pitts’s visit—raw, dreary days where cold air permeated every stitch of clothing and seeped into bones. Rain pounded the landscape, delaying the delivery of coal and wood so that Mrs. Windham sanctioned fire for our use only in the morning room, where Elizabeth and I bided our time, sewing with numb fingers.
Mrs. Windham scarcely seemed to notice the cold, as her mind was full of the possible matches her efforts might secure me. While she sewed, she conjectured aloud which Tom, Dick, or Harry from the village I might find agreeable. I endured without comment, choosing instead to ruminate on the requirements Edward might place upon me.
I felt fairly certain no vicar could wed William Elliston’s daughter unless she publicly repented and joined the church. But would Edward care if I truly believed? And if so, should I pretend? During those endless hours, I’d often rise and pace the room to stretch my aching muscles. Each time I passed the rain-beaded window, my gaze traced down the dirt path that led beyond Am Meer and into the spinney of birch trees lost in the swirling haze. I’d wonder whether I’d ever truly be free again. In Scotland, would they allow me long solitary rambles? Or if I did manage to marry Edward, what sort of restrictions might he place upon me? The vicar in my village was notorious for making his wife and children spend two hours a day in Scripture reading and another hour in prayer.
Often, as I wrestled with these thoughts, I’d feel Elizabeth’s sympathetic gaze upon me. I hated that moment worst of all. In those pitying glances, I sensed her thoughts as easily as a gypsy detects a gullible client. It made little difference what Edward’s expectations for his wife were, for thus far, he’d kept his vow and stayed clear of me.
How things might have eventually concluded, I cannot say. In the end, I slipped through my circumstances in a way I could have never anticipated.
“Open!” A man beat his fist against Am Meer’s door, in the dead of night, then shouted, “Open, I say!”
I sat up in my bed, gasping as dogs’ frantic howls reverberated through the cottage. I made a movement to slip from my bed, but sheets entwined my legs.
“I said open up!” The man clanged on the door knocker.
“Hold your horses,” the manservant, Harry, shouted as he passed my door. His feet slurred over the floor and I envisioned him buttoning trousers. “I’m coming, I’m coming, you filthy bog trotter.”
Recovering from my shock, I rose and pulled on my wrapper, unable to fathom what was happening, for no catastrophe could merit waking us in such a manner. Am Meer was too far from the village to be disturbed over a fire, and the Windhams had no family close enough for it to be a death announcement. Hearing Mrs. Windham’s voice at the end of the hall, I procured a light and proceeded to her.
She stood at the entrance, reading a missive by candlelight. A single, brown braid threaded with silver hung from beneath her nightcap. Her bare toes with thick, yellow nails protruded from beneath her nightgown. Elizabeth clung to her arm, reading over her shoulder. The coming years melted as I gauged how altered Elizabeth should appear twenty years hence.
Elizabeth looked up first, her face ghostly. “Oh, Julia.”
I eyed the note, fear tingling through me. “I’ve been ordered to Scotland, haven’t I?”
“Scotland?” Mrs. Windham looked over her note, her puffy eyes squinted.
&n
bsp; “Worse.” Elizabeth left her mother to link her arm with mine. “Her ladyship has ordered us to attend dinner with her on Thursday. She desires . . . to meet you.”
I clutched my wrap tighter. Even in the murkiness, I recognized the distinct ivory stationery. “Lady Foxmore sent you a note at two o’clock in the morning?”
“Like as not, she has indigestion and wishes us to suffer alongside her,” Elizabeth whispered, causing Harry to choke on laughter.
Mrs. Windham looked over the page at her manservant and hall boy, both swallowing back grins. Her eyes narrowed as she waved Elizabeth and me back down the hall.
“All right, all right. Back to bed, everyone. Nothing to make such a fuss over.”
But when we turned the corner, she grabbed Elizabeth’s arm and hissed, “You must never forget how terrible servants’ gossip is. Imagine what her ladyship would think if she heard.”
“As if Harry would repeat anything.”
Mrs. Windham released her and addressed me. “Do not trouble yourself over meeting Lady Foxmore. Put the thought from your mind and go finish your slumber, like a good girl.”
At my bedchamber, Mrs. Windham left us and returned to her own room, still reading the note.
“This is the fifth time,” Elizabeth whispered, “that her ladyship has seen fit to send a message in the dead of night. One would gather we’d imposed the acquaintance on her and this is our punishment. I’m convinced she instructs her footman to wake the entire household. Don’t you dare start giggling. There’s nothing humorous about it.”
“What did the note say?” I asked, unable to keep the amusement from my voice.
“It was dreadful. First, she berated Mama for not seeking her counsel before allowing you to live here.” Mirth crept into Elizabeth’s voice despite herself. “She wrote that she is uncertain as to whether Mama is adequate for the task, and she shall determine on Thursday whether she approves of the scheme.”
I covered my mouth to restrain my laughter.
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