Chapter 5
The next morning, when her brother was supposed to escort her home, Juliet begged me, in front of my aunt, to stay with her for a fortnight.
“Of course you may have Amelia as your guest,” Mrs. Kendall said, all warmth and smiles. “She may stay as long as you like.”
I could hardly protest, but later in private, I told Juliet, “I would enjoy spending time with you, but have you asked your brother? I don’t want him to resent me, and it may cause him to compare me even more to Miss Scofield. It is his home, too, and he may not—”
“No, no, no, he will not resent you. He shall be glad to have you to keep me company, for you do not know how much I vex him, always wanting to talk with him, always wishing to go for a drive or to the theater or the park. I will bother him much less if you are with me. You will see. He will be glad to have you visiting.”
She finally persuaded me, but I still had misgivings, knowing he thought I was using his sister.
When he arrived and she took him aside and told him I was coming to stay with her for a while, his expression never changed as he nodded and said, “Of course.”
When Juliet and I had settled in at her brother’s townhouse, we began to get callers.
Mrs. Kendall even sent a few of them after she informed them that I would be staying with Juliet Beaumont.
They would come and sit with us, Jeremy always sure to be there as well, and after fifteen minutes of awkward conversation, they would leave.
Some of them piqued my interest a bit, but none of them seemed to be someone I could imagine myself marrying.
How different life in the city was compared to the country.
Sometimes I felt like a completely different person.
In London, I was someone who welcomed attention from gentlemen, who danced and attended concerts, someone who need never concern herself with the needs of others.
I often felt as if all eyes were on me. Whereas at home, I often felt as if I were invisible, while everyone’s attention was focused on the child with the most pressing need at the moment—usually the youngest. Certainly, I had nothing to complain about, as I was a gentleman’s daughter with servants to cook and clean and attend to those kinds of duties.
I wanted to help care for my siblings. I enjoyed the feeling of being needed and loved by my baby sisters and brothers.
But dancing and receiving gentleman callers were enjoyable as well.
And though I missed my family very much, I’d miss the attention of London’s eligible gentlemen when I went home—that is, if I didn’t find a husband while I was here.
When calling hours were over, I noticed the upstairs maid, Rebecca, looking pale.
“Are you well?” I asked her.
“Yes, miss, I’m very well.” But she looked frightened, as if afraid she would get in trouble for looking unwell.
“If you need to lie down, I’m sure the housekeeper will not mind. I will even tell her—”
“No, miss, I beg you not to tell Mrs. Smith anything.”
“Very well. I would not wish to cause you trouble.”
“Thank you, miss. You are very kind.” There were tears in her eyes as she turned away and hurried from the room.
The poor girl. Mrs. Smith must be very hard on the servants for her to look so frightened. But I made it a point to keep my eye on her.
In the next two days, the pale look did not leave her, and I even heard her retching in the servants’ washroom.
On the third day, I was walking past a guest room where the door was slightly ajar, and I heard Mrs. Smith’s voice, sounding more strident than usual.
“This will not be tolerated. If you are with child, I will have no choice but to dismiss you immediately. And do not expect a letter of reference from me. Disgraceful.” She hissed that last word.
I hid myself in the next room and watched Mrs. Smith hurry down the hallway while making huffing noises.
I stepped out into the hall and heard sobbing coming from the next room. The door was open. Rebecca was standing there, bent over, her face in her hands.
“Are you all right?” I moved closer. “Is there anything I can do?”
“There is nothing that can be done.” Rebecca looked up at me, then wiped her face with her apron. Her voice was muffled by the apron as she said, “I know very well, there is nothing that can be done.”
She was a very pretty girl, with large brown eyes, long eyelashes, and a heart-shaped face. My heart squeezed in empathy.
Perhaps I should have been horrified by her plight, but the same thing had happened to our kitchen maid.
My mother found her to be with child, and my parents spoke with the father.
He was one of our tenant farmers, and he was persuaded to marry her.
I saw her at church on occasion, and she seemed happy enough, with a little boy and another child on the way.
“Can you marry the father?” I ventured.
“No,” she said, such agony in her voice, as she shook her head. “It is impossible.”
“Do you have any family who can help you?”
She shook her head. “Only my younger brothers and sisters, and they depend on me. There is no one else.”
“And who is the father of your child?” I kept my voice low.
“He was a guest here, a friend of Mr. Beaumont’s, a gentleman, too high to ever marry me. I should have known better. I should have known.” Tears were streaming down her face, and she let out a sob, which she stifled with a fistful of apron.
“Can he not be prevailed upon to help you?”
“He left here three months ago, and I haven’t heard from him since. I tried to write a letter to him, but it was returned to me. He wants nothing to do with me.”
“What is his name?” I tried to sound as emotionless as possible, shoving down what I felt.
“No, miss, you mustn’t—”
“Give me his name, Rebecca. I promise, I shall not make things worse for you. I just want to know his name.”
She protested a bit more, but in the end, she said, “Johnathan Skeffington.”
“I shall do my best to help,” I said, leaning down to look her in the eye. “Let me see what I can do, and in the meantime, don’t despair.”
A tear dripped from her eye. “Thank you, miss.”
I had half expected her to be angry with my promise to help. She must think there was little or nothing that I could do, and she might be right. But instead of saying so, she had thanked me. She so badly needed a bit of hope. Her forlorn, tear-streaked face made my heart expand toward her.
I went to search for Mr. Beaumont, something I never thought I would do, and I found him coming up the staircase.
“May I speak with you?” I said.
“Where is Juliet?”
Was he afraid I was trying to compromise him? “I think she’s practicing in the music room.”
Just then we heard the pianoforte.
Without a word, he turned and headed to the music room.
Already my feelings were high. Now I felt the blood rise into my cheeks. Of all the ridiculous things, forcing me to talk to him only in front of his sister. That was all well and good, for he might not like his sister hearing what I had to say.
Once we were in the music room, I didn’t wait for Juliet to stop playing and acknowledge us. I spun around to face him.
“Are you aware that your friend, Johnathan Skeffington, has gotten one of your servants with child, in your own home, and is refusing to help her or even accept a letter from her?”
“Excuse me, what?” His face scrunched as he gave me his most intense stare.
“Which part did you not hear?” I’d once heard my mother say that to one of my brothers when he was in trouble. “Your servant is with child, and the father is your friend. Mrs. Smith is threatening to dismiss her, and she has no family to help her. This is an injustice, and I—”
Juliet stopped playing. “What is the matter? Amelia? You look positively flushed.” Then she looked at her brother and shook her finger at him. “Jeremy, what have you done to upset Amelia?” She stepped out from behind the instrument and hurried toward us.
“Nothing, but it appears Skeffington . . . Miss Moore, you can be sure that I shall take care of this posthaste. If Skeffington is guilty, I shall drag him back here by his ear if I must, but he shall be made to take responsibility.”
“I should hope so. The girl has used poor judgment and done something she shouldn’t have, but she did not get herself with child, not without help.”
“Amelia!” Juliet looked shocked, but then she laughed, a short sound. “Who is with child?” she whispered.
“One of the servants,” I whispered back.
“I shall make sure the girl is taken care of,” Jeremy Beaumont said quietly, before turning and leaving the room.
Well, that went better than I expected. I was glad Jeremy Beaumont was doing the right thing, but it was no more than what a gentleman should do to protect his household from friends without morals.
“It is very compassionate of you to defend her,” Juliet said. “After all, housekeepers dismiss servants for this kind of moral failing all the time. They don’t care if they’ve been abandoned or not.”
I was well aware. “We all make mistakes. And I don’t like thinking about a wealthy gentleman taking advantage of a young servant girl like that. Who is to say that we might have been taken in just as she was, were we in the same circumstance?”
Juliet tilted her head to one side. “You are too good, Amelia, too kind, and also too humble, for I am sure you would not have been taken in just as she was.”
“I am very fortunate, and therefore I shall never know. My mother always says, ‘Judge not lest you be judged,’ so I try to show grace.”
Juliet sighed. “I am too quick to judge other people’s failings.”
“Well, perhaps in this case, we can reserve our judgment for the gentleman who took advantage of a servant girl while visiting his friend.”