The man called Smith’s eyes widened before he scurried away.
Finny stood and scuffed the toe of her shiny shoe on the thick red carpet beneath her feet. “Gov’ner? Did ye kill ’er?”
A small smile quirked the corners of his lips. “No, Finny, I did not kill her, though I have been sorely tempted to a time or two for sure.”
“Oh.” She frowned at him, wondering if he would really kill someone. He didn’t seem the type to do something so dastardly. After all, he saved her from starving to death locked away in the dark. No, he couldn’t kill anyone for he was a knight in shining armor, her knight in shining armor. All hers, and she would try to please him as the only way to thank him for his gallantry. “Did ye want ’er dead, gov’ner?”
His brow furrowed and the smile slipped from his lips. “No, Finny, I do not.”
“Oh … all right.”
He gave her a puzzled look and then bent to pat his stepmother’s hand.
A maid arrived and he gestured to her. “Go with Maggie, Finny. She will see you settled.”
Worried she may have offended him, Finny bit her lip and did as she was told, following the maid from the room and up the stairs.
* * *
Finny stood at the window of the elegant bedchamber and watched as her savior climbed aboard his carriage and rolled off down the street. He’s abandoned me. What am I t’do ’ere? Will his uppity mother cast me out now that he’s not here t’defend my stay? A tear slipped unbidden down her cheek and she swiped it away. “Well, ifn’ she thinks t’kick me from this door I’ll show her. No one treats Finny Donelly like dirt. No one but papa,” she groused to the empty room. Turning from the window she trailed her fingers across the fine furnishings. Pretty things in a pretty room, a room fit for a princess. She frowned. What had the earl called her? A dutchie? No, a countess. As far as she could tell that was just about royalty. Pausing, she regarded her reflection critically in the mirror. Horse plop. I don’t look like no princess. With a sigh she stuck out her tongue at the crude reflection of what was supposed to now be a great lady. I look like a sheared sheep. How long would it take for her once lovely hair to grow back? She resisted the urge to rub her scalp, still red and stinging from being doused with kerosene. At least the vermin’s gone.
With a shudder she turned away and wandered over to sit on the edge of the bed. A gasp slipped from her lips followed by a giggle when she sunk into the luxurious feather tick. Laughing out loud she lay back and allowed the mattress and bedding to virtually swallow her. I hope I never have to get out of bed. A noise out on the street caught her attention and she floundered out of the bed and rushed to the window in hopes the earl changed his mind and came back to take her with him on his ship.
A pretty woman stepped from a carriage under her window followed by a maid. She glanced up where Finny stood. Chestnut ringlets showed under the fashionable yellow bonnet she wore to shield her snapping gray eyes from the London sun. Her pert little nose wrinkled and her cupid’s lips curled into a cherry red bow before she looked away and hurried up the steps, out of sight.
Finny sighed. What she would give to be that pretty lady. In truth she still had yet to figure out why a man as well to do as the earl would marry someone like her, instead of a nice lady like that one. She pressed her nose to the glass, smudging it and sighed again. In truth she suspected the earl married her for more reasons than a promise made to her lecher of a pa, but she had really no notion as to what those reasons might be. He didn’t love her for he didn’t even know her. Besides, who would love such an ugly mouse as her?
Voices carried from below and she crossed to the door in hopes she could hear what was being said. Cautiously she twisted the knob, half expecting the door to be locked, grinning when it twisted easily in her hand. She peered out into the hallway. It was deserted. Though the voices were now louder, she still could not make out the words. The earl’s mother’s voice rose and then quieted as another sweet tone replied. She shut the door and returned to sit on the bed.
A few minutes later someone knocked on the door. “Aye?” Finny stood as it opened.
A maid stood in the doorway. “Their ladyships request your presence in the parlor.” Turning away, she led the way back downstairs.
Finny tried in vain to remember the way in case she should need to go unescorted, but soon gave up in the mass of hallways which all looked alike. The stern looking man who had taken the earl’s cloak opened the double doors to the parlor without a word as they approached. She entered the room, apprehension making her stomach roll.
The pretty woman who entered the house earlier hurried forward taking Finny’s hands in hers with a bright smile. “You must be Finny. I am Devon’s sister Kathrine, but everyone calls me Kat.”
Finny gave her an uneasy smile and glanced at the earl’s glowering stepmother. “Aye, I’m Finny all right.”
Kat squeezed her hands and led her to sit on the settee. “Is Finny your Christian name?”
“Christian name? Oh, ye mean me birthed name? Naw, me birthed name is Josephine. Me pa calls me Finny.” The lady’s sweet perfume tickled her nose and she wiped it with the back of her hand.
Kat fished a dainty silk handkerchief from the skirt pocket of her lemon yellow dress and handed it to her.
Finny rubbed it against her cheek and then stuffed it into her pocket, wondering why people kept giving her pretty bits of cloth. “Ya smell right purdy, Miss Kat.”
The lady laughed, a delicate tinkling sound not unlike a bell. “Why, thank you Finny. I shall be sure to send over a basket of my special soaps for you, if you like.”
“You’d do that fer me?”
She smiled. “Yes, of course. Now, my stepmother tells me my brother has made you his wife.”
Finny nodded. “Yup, got this ’ere ring an’ a piece of paper that says I belong to ’im.” She wiggled her fingers under the woman’s nose.
“I see.” Kat glanced at the earl’s stepmother who sat stone-faced and silent in the chair opposite them. “Well, you must agree you are not exactly a lady, or the type of … girl, a man of my brother’s esteem usually weds.”
“Ye’ sayin’ I ain’t good enough fer yer family?” Finny wrenched her hands from Kat’s smooth ones and stood, balling her fists defiantly at her sides.
Kat placed a hand on her arm. “No, no Finny, may I call you Josephine?”
Finny shrugged.
“The problem you see Josephine, is that, well you are rather crude and will not fit in the circles my family travels in. Then there is the matter of your dress and … um … hair….”
Finny touched her head her face heating in dismay. “The earl, he cut off me hair t’get rid of the vermin and he himself did buy me this dress.”
“Yes, I see.” Kat’s face took on a greenish hue and she visibly swallowed. “Well since there is no ignoring my brother’s sudden marriage, I suppose we shall just have to try to make a silk purse out of a caterpillar, so to speak.”
“I though ye was rich’n’ all? Can’t ye buy a silk purse?” Finny frowned wondering how poor these people really were.
Kat laughed again, her eyes dancing. “Yes, Josephine, I assure you we can afford to buy a silk purse. I meant with a little work perhaps we can turn you into a demure young lady. What do you think?”
Finny stared at her in wonder. “Ye could make me a real lady?”
“I can only try my best to make you into a suitable countess.”
Finny grinned. “I’d like that, an’ I like you, Miss Kat.”
“Thank you. Now the first thing you must learn is to address me properly as Lady Swanson….”
Chapter Four
Finny scowled at the dressmaker who stuck her with a pin for the third time in less than an hour. “Ye stick me with another pin and I’ll knock yer block off.”
The woman blanched, but did not comment.
Lady Swanson frowned. “Now Josephine, that is hardly the speech of a lady, now is it?”
“No ma’am.” Finny looked down at the floor and sighed. “I’m not made fer the likes of this ‘lady’ stuff, no how.”
“Now, now, Josephine, that is not the proper attitude to win my brother’s heart.”
A groan of frustration bubbled from Finny. “‘Tis so much work bein’ a fine lady. I’ll never master it, ’specailly not with that nasty ol’ ace of spades hangin’ ’round glowerin’ at me all the time.”
“Josephine Donelly, for shame! Adele will come around, you will see. You must give her time.” Lady Swanson smoothed her skirt. “She is really not so bad.”
Finny rolled her eyes. “Bad as scalding yerself on a pan o’ pork back,” she mumbled.
Lady Swanson ignored the comment. “After your fitting I will take you to the dining room and we will go over dining protocol while we wait for the dance master and music teacher to arrive.”
“Why must I learn t’dance anyways?” Finny groused.
“All elegant ladies know how to dance. Trust me, men find a woman who can dance with grace and style very attractive.”
Finny slouched with a pout. “I’m not learnin’ t’play no music.”
“All right, Josephine. What would you like to learn how to do?”
“Dunno.” Finny shrugged.
“Is there anything you enjoy doing then?”
“Playin’ cards, petting Bettie and flirtin’ with Paul Hillard.” Finny grinned.
“Oh dear,” Lady Swanson sighed. “Ladies do not play cards, or flirt, I am afraid.”
Finny scowled at her. “Ladies don’t do nothin’ good, seems t’me.”
“Do anything,” Lady Swanson corrected. “Surely there must be something you like to do and are good at.”
“I like t’draw.” Finny’s gaze darted to the modiste and back to Lady Swanson. “Papa says scratchin’ in the dirt and scribblin’ on ol’ parcel paper is a waste, but I draw good, you should see me pictures of Bettie, but ya ye can’t ’cause they’re all in the dirt back ’ome.”
“Bettie?”
She nodded with extra enthusiasm so Lady Swanson would know just how special Bettie was. “Aye, she’s me pet. His lordship thinks she’s a rat, but me pa said she’s a chilla, from way far ’way.”
“I see.” Lady Swanson didn’t appear all that impressed with the idea of a pet. She cleared her throat. “Maybe for a man drawing is not an admirable pursuit, Finny, but for a woman it is just the thing that sets her apart from the crowd. I shall see to it drawing and painting materials are purchased for you right away.”
Finny gave her a crooked smile. “Thanks. I’d like that.” She pondered the elegant lady. “Why are ye so nice t’me?”
Lady Swanson smiled. “I like you Josephine and I think you are just the thing my brother needs.”
“Nobody needs Finny Donelly.” Finny swallowed and looked down at the floor to hide her dismay. Doesn’t this lady know anything?
“Ah, there you would be wrong, Josephine. I think my brother needs you very much, more than you could ever imagine.”
Finny snorted. “He’s got everythin’ he wants and the money to git it ifn’ he doesn’t, so why could he possibly need the likes o’ me?”
“That is just it. He has everything he wants, but what he needs is a woman who will not be bullied into being the subservient wallflower he expects. He needs someone who speaks her mind and will make marriage interesting, perhaps then he will stay put, instead of wandering the seas looking for something he cannot find.”
Crossing her arms Finny pondered Lady Swanson’s meaning. Did the earl want someone bossy and willful as her? Surely not, for so far he seemed intent on being the bossy one.
“Miss Donnelly, please lower your arms.” The seamstress frowned, a half a dozen pins poking from the corner of her lips.
With a sigh Finny dropped her arms and slouched, ignoring the seamstress’ glare at her lack of posture. “So you think I’m what ’is lordship’s lookin’ t’find?”
“Of a sort. I mean not you exactly, well maybe you exactly by the time we are done.” Lady Swanson smiled.
“I’m not followin’ ya, but I suppose I’ll go along. After all what’s the harm in playin’ at bein’ a lady a while?” She paused. “Can ye call me, Finny though? I’d feel more myself if ye did.”
Lady Swanson stifled a delicate giggle behind her silk handkerchief. “That is the spirit, Finny. I will make you a lady, mark my words. I love a challenge and you are going to be the challenge of a lifetime.”
The seamstress stepped back with a satisfied smile. “There, that will be all I require for today. Rest assured I shall have a number of ready-made gowns altered and delivered by the end of the week.” After helping Finny from the gown the seamstress gathered her things and left with her assistant trailing behind.
“Come along, Finny, our dining lesson awaits.” Lady Swanson passed Finny one of the day dresses which already fit reasonably well and waited while she dressed. They headed downstairs to a set of double doors. Finny gasped when the doors were opened, revealing the largest dining room she had ever seen. A polished mahogany table stretched the length of the room, set with only three settings of sparkling silver and gold rimmed china. It looked oddly bare and intimidating at the same time. Finny hung back when Lady Swanson took a seat in the chair at the right of the table and waited for the servant there to lay a pristine white napkin on her lap. A servant standing on the left side of the table cleared his throat and looked at Finny.
Finny frowned. “What?”
“He is waiting for you to take your seat, Finny.” Lady Swanson gestured to the chair opposite her.
“Oh.” Finny grimaced and then crossed to sit on the edge of the velvet upholstered seat. When the servant draped a white napkin across her lap she removed it and tucked it under her chin. The servant cleared his throat and Finny looked to Lady Swanson. “This ’ere fellow has a sore throat, me thinks.”
Lady Swanson bit her lip. “Your napkin goes on your lap, dear.”
Finny tugged the now crinkled material free and laid it across her knees. “Oh.”
The first course was set before them on individual covered silver trays. Finny grimaced at her reflection in the shiny domed lid before the servant stationed behind her reached forward and removed the covering. Three almost paper thin biscuits each topped with a thick black berry preserve-like substance took up very little space beneath. Finny puzzled the items. Is this all there was to eat? Surely as rich as the earl must be he could afford more than the mere snack before her. She peeked at Lady Swanson from the corner of her eye. The woman seemed unconcerned by the lack of food on her plate. Little finger aloft she gingerly grasped the first biscuit and took a bite. With a shrug Finny followed suit popping the whole biscuit into her mouth almost choking at the salty bitter taste. Sputtering she spit the mouthful on to her plate and wiped her tongue with her napkin. “Blah! That’s the worst jelly I’ve ever tasted.”
Lady Swanson’s lips thinned, but one corner quirked into the semblance of a grin. “It is not jelly, Finny, it is caviar.”
“Cava what?” Finny scowled at her. “Ye tryin’ t’poison me?”
“Of course not. Caviar is a French delicacy.”
Finny looked closer at the food on her plate. “Sure tastes awful. Ye sure the Cav-airie didn’t go bad?”
The servant behind Finny snickered and Lady Swanson cut his glee short with a stern look. “Oh Finny, what am I going to do you?” She motioned for the servant to remove the dish.
With a shrug Finny stuck out her tongue and scrubbed at it again with the napkin. When Lady Swanson cleared her throat and gave a slight shake of her head Finny paused and then dropped the napkin back to her lap. It appeared scrubbing the taste from one’s tongue was considered taboo. When a second covered tray was set before her she looked to Lady Swanson. The lid was removed to reveal a bowl of thick soup. Now this is more like it. Finny dropped her gaze to the table. Four spoons were lined up alongside her place setting. She po
ndered the four for a moment. I only got two hands so why four spoons? They ranged in size and shape from a small egg shaped one to a larger rounded one.
Peeking across the table she observed Lady Swanson pick up the largest spoon, dip the edge in the soup before dragging it across the lip of her bowl and then blowing on it with pursed lips and no audible sound. Finny grasped the handle of the largest spoon and scooped up the soup. She shoveled it into her mouth without blowing on it. The scalding liquid burned her tongue. With a howl she dropped the spoon and spit the soup back into the bowl.
“Little spoonfuls, Finny, like this.” Lady Swanson took some more soup, blew on it and then put it in her mouth.
Finny followed suit, this time blowing on it with a huff of air causing some to splatter onto the pristine white tablecloth before slurping it down. It was rich and tasty. With relish she devoured the rest of the bowl, spooning and swallowing as fast as she could get it down. When she was finished Lady Swanson tapped her wine glass with her spoon and a footman hurried to fill it with a red liquid before removing her bowl and passing it to a serving girl.
Finny followed suit and tapped her glass. The footman hurried to pour some of the liquid in her glass before resuming his spot at the foot of the table. Grasping the glass in both hands Finny eased it to her lips afraid to break the delicate crystal. The sour grape flavor rolled across her tongue. She returned the glass to the table with a grimace and forced herself to swallow. “Ick.” She pointed an accusing finger at the servant. “He gave me sour juice.”
A heavy sigh slipped from Lady Swanson’s lips. “There is nothing wrong with the wine, Finny, it is supposed to taste that way.” She nodded to the servant. “Please bring us a cup of chocolate, Fredrick.”
With a grin the servant exited the room.
Resting her elbows on the table Finny pondered the situation. This ‘lady’ stuff was harder than she thought….
Chapter Five
Finny flopped down in the chair to brood a week later. “I just don’t see how ’tis possible t’make the earl fall in love with me. He’s sailin’ the seas and having a fine time whilst I’m slavin’ away trying to be the perfect wife.” With an exaggerated sigh she tipped back her head and stared at the ceiling.
Rags to Romance Page 3