I was only in my room for five minutes and had just put away my pelisse when there was a frantic pounding on my door. Heaving a sigh, I closed my eyes for a moment, knowing who it was and why they had come. “Come in,” I answered, turning to face the door.
The door swung open, and an alarmed Eliza entered. “Oh, Miss Nelson,” she said, relief filling her voice. “It’s Miss Dunbar. She is demanding you come to her right away.”
Keeping my movements slow, I checked the time on my father’s watch. “I still have fifteen minutes left,” I replied, setting the watch on the dressing table. “I will go to her when my half-day is over, and not a minute before. Thank you, Eliza, you may return to your duties.”
“But what do I tell Miss Dunbar?”
“I don't see why you must tell her anything. Thank you, Eliza, that is all.”
My tone was harsher than it should have been. Flushing, Eliza gave a nod and withdrew. How dearly I missed working with a maid who had some spirit. In the Burnham’s household, Mary had, after some time, been a great help and in a position to be trained in the subtler arts of being a lady’s maid.
What I wouldn’t give to have someone on my side in the Dunbar house.
Without rushing, I changed from my walking dress to a more modest one of pale pink muslin. I took care to hide my letters and reticule under my bed where it would be difficult to find. Precisely on the hour, I walked out of my room and made my way down to Miss Dunbar’s room.
“Where have you been?” the young lady asked as I entered. Her tone was accusing. “I have been waiting an age for you.”
“Today was my half-day, Miss Dunbar,” I said with as much respect and patience as I could muster. “I am here now, though. Do you know what you wish to wear to the Assembly tonight?”
Tapping her foot, Miss Dunbar scowled. “Of course, I do. I have, after all, had forever to make my selection without you. The blue striped muslin.”
There was no denying Miss Dunbar had excellent taste. The pale blue of the stripes made her eyes brighter. I drew the gown out and carried it to her. “This one, Miss Dunbar?”
“You know it is,” the young lady said sharply. “My goodness, are you completely useless, Nelson? Do I have to describe everything in exact detail for you to know what I wish to wear? If I didn’t need you, I would dismiss you this minute.”
And if I had a place, anyplace at all, to go to, I would have walked out. I, of course, kept this observation to myself as I laid the dress out with care. Miss Dunbar sat in front of her dressing table and began tapping her foot. “I’m waiting, Nelson.”
I tried to focus on the positives about tending to Miss Dunbar. Her hair was long and silky, the complete opposite of the curly locks I had struggled with in my last position. Miss Dunbar's curls were easy to arrange into the popular Grecian inspired styles and added to her beautiful expression.
Once she was dressed, Miss Dunbar twisted each way to admire her appearance in the mirror. “I believe I will have every man’s attention tonight,” she said, trying to tug the dress lower to reveal more of her bosom. Her tone was smug and satisfied.
Unimpressed with her tactics for seeking attention, I turned away to begin my task of tidying the room. Something struck my back, and I stumbled a step. There was a clatter as the object fell to the ground as I whirled around. “I didn’t give you permission to turn your back on me,” Miss Dunbar almost barked, picking up her gloves as calmly as though she hadn’t just thrown a jar at me. “Never do so again.”
Anger made me clench my jaw for a moment. What gave her the right to throw things at me and behave as though it were nothing at all? “Your father will be waiting for you,” was all I could muster.
“Oh, let him wait. He won’t leave without me.”
Perhaps if Mr. Dunbar did leave without her, just once, it would have taught her how to respect other people. As it was, I held my silence as I watched her. After a full minute of further preening, she finally decided she was ready to leave the room. She walked out with a spring in her step.
As soon as the door closed, I scowled at it. “Spoiled chit,” I muttered under my breath. It was language my mother would have been appalled to hear me use, but I felt it suited the situation correctly.
Stooping down, I picked up the poor porcelain jar that had never been intended to be used as a projectile. There was a slight chip on the lid and a fine crack along the side. Thankfully, that seemed to be the only damage done, and it was minor enough that Miss Dunbar wouldn’t notice it unless she was of a mind to scrutinize it.
Restoring the dressing room to its original condition came without any concentration from me now. My mind didn’t even have to focus on each, particular task that had to be performed. Before I left, though, I made sure to cast my gaze over every inch of the room. If even one thing was out of place, Miss Dunbar would undoubtedly do more than throw a jar at my back.
Having no appetite, I went up to my room where I stretched out on the bed. After my first two weeks, I had discreetly begun searching for a new position. My determination to endure whatever Miss Dunbar literally threw at me fled more and more with each new day. Every time, I managed to talk myself into staying, just until I discovered what I needed to know. Then, inevitably, she did something cruel or thoughtless.
There was a light rap of knuckles on my door. “Yes?” I said, pushing myself up. “Who is it?”
“I have a tray for you, Miss Nelson,” Eliza's voice came through the door. “You never asked for it, but I brought it for you anyway.”
Poor Eliza. Though frightened of her own shadow, she was still kind when she could be. I hoped she would find a new house where she won’t have to worry about a particular and spoiled mistress.
“Come in,” I said, swinging my legs off my bed. The door opened, and the maid carried the tray in. “Thank you, Eliza.”
Once she placed the tray on my table, Eliza faced me and hesitated for a moment. “Is there anything I can get for you?” she asked. “I heard Miss Dunbar snapping at you like an angry dog my uncle used to keep, and I thought she threw something at you. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Eliza. I believe there is a bruise, nothing more.”
She seemed to hesitate. “Why do you stay? A talented lady like you ought to be able to find a place somewhere you can be respected.”
If only it were as easy as that. “I have made inquiries. You should do so as well. You’re a good worker and ought to be appreciated for what you do.”
Eliza tilted her head, a surprised expression appearing on her face. “You think so?”
“I wouldn’t say so if I didn’t.”
A smile curved her lips, and she ducked her head. “Thank you, Miss Nelson. I’ll be back for your tray.”
She hurried out, but not before I saw the blush that colored her cheeks. How sad that a few kind words would be so embarrassing to her. Shaking my head, I focused on the food that I had little appetite for.
THERE WERE BENEFITS and disadvantages to going into a second position as a lady’s maid. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t help comparing the two households. My time in the Burnham house had been a trial and had resulted in me nearly being killed, more through my own fault than anything done by my employers. Still, it seemed a pleasant memory compared to how life was in the Dunbar household.
I was more experienced and knew the ins and outs of a woman in my position. With only one young lady to care for, I had expected it to be simple and more straightforward. Without any vanity, I knew I had developed some skill for the position.
Pride, as they say, came before a crash.
These thoughts went round and round my mind as I cleaned the dressing room. My back was sore from Miss Dunbar’s attack the day before. I couldn’t twist myself around enough to see, but I was sure there was an impressive bruise. The first physical wound to go with the verbal ones the young lady delighted in throwing at me.
“Nelson, I need new ribbons!”
In the middle of pu
tting away the clean laundry, I paused and took a deep breath. My hold on my patience strengthened. I faced her. “Of course, Miss Dunbar. I will get your pelisse—”
“Oh, I am not going out for them. You shall do so for me.”
Why was I not surprised? If she were to go out in search of ribbons, she might miss a visit from one of her admirers. “Is there a specific color of ribbon you desire?” Experience had taught me to be exact when asking what Miss Dunbar wanted me to purchase for her.
“Oh, a variety,” she said, walking to the window. She ran her finger along the curtain. “I imagine I will find a use for anything you bring back.”
I had the feeling she was watching me from the corner of her eye. And why would she send me out for fripperies she didn’t need? Either she intended on doing something here and didn’t want to risk my interference, or she had an ulterior reason for my errand.
“While you are out, you will take a note to Mr. Ingram’s dwelling for me.”
And there it was: the real reason she was sending me out. Mr. Conrad Ingram was not one of her admirers, but Miss Dunbar dearly wanted him to be. He, as far as I was aware, had not even shown a passing interest in her, which must have been a thorn in her side.
For a moment, I struggled to think of what to say in answer. “A note, Miss Dunbar?”
It was a common tactic to bribe a maid to carry messages from a young lady to a gentleman, or vice versa. Henry Bladen had done so on multiple occasions in the past two months. That I hadn’t responded in kind should have discouraged him. But I couldn’t let my experiences from the past distract me from my current occupation.
“Yes, a note,” she said with impatience. She held up her hand as if to show me the message. “I would think you would be happy. You seem to enjoy walking.”
How did she know that? Had she been watching me?
“A young lady such as yourself would find her reputation ruined if it was discovered you were sending notes to a gentleman.” Mentally, I added ‘especially if the man were Mr. Ingram.’
“Who would tell anyone? You?” she asked with a laugh. Then, her eyes narrowed. “Is that what this is? You want an incentive to hold your silence?”
My conscience wanted to refuse, but a lady’s maid wouldn’t do that. I settled for silence, which only seemed to infuriate her. “Fine,” she said, turning to her dressing table. A moment later, she swung back to me. In her hand was a delicate, gold bracelet. “Will this be enough?”
She threw it at me, and I caught it reflexively. When I glanced down, I recognized it as one she often wore. Why would she give me this? What trick was she trying to play? “You are generous, Miss,” I said, unable to rein in all of my sarcasm.
“Now hurry up and deliver the note,” Miss Dunbar said, thrusting the message into my other hand. She flounced to the door. “And don’t forget the ribbons. I want to have some variety for when the other young ladies come to make alterations to our bonnets.”
In a moment, she was gone. Sighing, I shook my head at the predicament I found myself in. Encouraging her to pursue a man such as Conrad Ingram shamelessly was a repulsive idea. I could burn the letter and pretend I had delivered it. Despite the pretense I was involved in, such blatant deception made my stomach churn with unease. What if Mr. Ingram was expecting the note in my hand? How would Miss Dunbar react if she were to discover I hadn’t delivered it.
Resigned, I walked to the door. I made my way up to my room and prepared to go out. I hide the bracelet in my dressing table. Her excuse to send me out was laughable. Who would believe that she intended to organize an activity for other ladies and needed supplies for such an occasion? She received visitors, of course, but none of them I would term as her close friends.
With my bonnet on my head and my gloves on my hands, I made my way down the servants' staircase. I passed by Eliza, who was hard at work scrubbing the floor of the kitchen. She caught my eye and frowned. “Are you going out, Miss Nelson?” she asked, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead.
“Miss Dunbar has requested I purchase a variety of ribbons for her,” I said with a shrug. “You will listen for if she needs something?”
Eliza grimaced and nodded reluctantly. “Of course, Miss Nelson. Just...don't be gone long?”
With an answering nod, I continued on my way. Poor Eliza was a good, hard worker, and I hoped she would find someplace better than the Dunbar house. I stepped outside the house and took a deep breath of fresh air. At least the weather was beautiful for a walk.
It wasn’t far to Mr. Ingram’s dwelling. I was only five houses away when the man himself walked onto the pavement. He was of average height, with black hair and he had the bearing of an aristocrat. The appeal he had for the majority of the young ladies of Bath was obvious, though I didn’t share it. He was an incredibly handsome man.
He didn’t glance to either side as he made straight for the curricle in the street. My steps slowed as I watched him drive away. At least, I would not face the embarrassment of having him in the house as I left Miss Dunbar’s note. An indifferent footman accepted the missive, and I was on my way to buy ribbons within half a minute.
That part of my errand, at least, I could enjoy. Instead of making my way to the shop that Miss Dunbar preferred to frequent, I walked to a tiny shop where the quality and prices were much more to my taste. The owner was a pleasant man who eagerly laid out his wares for my perusal and selection.
As the man wrapped my purchase, I ran my gloved hand over a bolt of pale blue silk that lay on the end of the counter. It was my favorite shade of the color, and if I’d had the money for such a decision, I would have bought it straight away.
“That color would suit you.”
The voice that came from behind me made my shoulders tense. Would I always be meeting men in a shop? I took a deep breath and spun around to make a small curtsy. “Mr. Harper.”
Chapter Three
Mr. Oswyn Harper’s appearance was no different than the last time I had seen him. He removed his hat, revealing his brown hair arranged in an unruly Brutus, and offered a slight bow. It had to be the most respectful greeting he’d ever offered me. “Miss Nelson,” he greeted. His gaze moved to the counter. “Your new mistress sent you out for baubles, I presume?”
“Indeed,” I said, unable to keep the corner of my lips from quirking up. It was astonishing how good it was to see him again, but I quickly reminded myself that I had to be cautious in his presence. “It is a common errand for a lady’s maid to perform for her mistress.”
He ignored the reminder of my position and the fact that he probably shouldn’t be talking to me. “I have to admit, Bath is the last place I would have expected to find you,” he commented, his gaze steady.
“Is that so? And exactly where would you expect to find me, Mr. Harper?”
Giving a slight chuckle, he put his hat back on. “That’s a fair point,” he said, without really answering my question. “This does explain why I haven’t seen you in London.”
“Oh, were you looking?”
This time, he cleared his throat, and a slight flush colored his face. His embarrassment could only mean one thing: he had been looking for me! Biting back a smile, I collected the paper wrapped package from the counter. When I faced Mr. Harper again, he seemed to have recovered himself.
“Well, I have duties to return to,” I told him, striving for a professional tone. “Enjoy your holiday, Mr. Harper.”
Before I could take a step, he said, “I’m not on holiday.”
Then, why was he in Bath? I wanted to ask, but would he tell me? Probably not. “Indeed? Then, whatever it is that brings you here, I hope it goes well for you,” I responded. It wasn’t hard to miss the disappointment that glinted in his eyes. Did he want me to ask? Was he here because of something connected to what had happened in London?
“May I escort you to wherever you’re going?” he asked, much to my surprise.
“You know it wouldn’t be proper for a gentleman
such as yourself to be seen with a lady’s maid.” I could guess his reasoning behind making such a request: to know where I currently resided. “No thank you, Mr. Harper. I will be fine on my own. I’m sure you have something you need to do, as you've made it clear you’re not on holiday.”
Before he could object or try to persuade me, I bobbed a curtsy and stepped around him. It wouldn’t take him long to find me if he really wanted to know. I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. Because if he wasn’t watching me go—well, I didn’t want him to catch me staring.
Mr. Harper had been a friend of my brother. What if he’d come to discover who had murdered Jonathan, the same as I had? After five years? Why would he now? Could I trust him more this time around? Would it be possible to work with him?
With a shake of my head, I pushed those thoughts from my mind. He could do whatever it was he’d come to do, and I would finish searching for my brother’s murderer. That was just the way I wanted it.
That’s what I told myself, anyway.
MISS DUNBAR BARELY glanced at the ribbons I had selected and demanded to know if I had delivered her note. She squealed with delight when I told her I had, though her happiness turned to annoyance when I added that Mr. Ingram had left just before I arrived. She flounced away with a huff and left me to my tasks.
Though I kept from being seen, I made a point to keep my ears open when it came time for visitors. Miss Dunbar was at home that day, waiting like a queen receiving her subjects. The usual ladies and their daughters came in and out, maintaining the social connection for their own purpose. Many gentlemen also arrived with flowers and poems for Miss Dunbar.
I wasn’t surprised to see Mr. Melbourne among those men. What drew intelligent men like him to young ladies like Miss Dunbar? Of course, I was only assuming Mr. Melbourne was intelligent based on one meeting, which is probably a mistake on my part. I’d misread a person before, even after knowing them for some time.
The Debutante: A Regency Mystery (The Sinclair Society Book 2) Page 2