Chapter Two #2
“No, nothing, Gregory, I’m just hungry, and I need you to post this for me. Will you?”
“What’s this, my lady? Mischief?”
“No, it’s something very serious and important to me. Will you post it please and not tell anyone?”
“You’ll be the death of me, you know,” he said with a sigh, rumpling his grey hair. “Very well. Now, you want something to eat? Her ladyship said you were to be left alone.” He put the envelope in the pocket of his coat hanging on the back of the door.
“Yes, she’s punishing me because I told her I don’t want to marry the viscount,” said Emily, following him to the kitchen, where he fetched her cold meat, cheese, bread, and a cup of ale and sat with her while she ate. “Have they gone out?” she asked, referring to her parents.
“Yes.” Gregory glanced at the clock on the mantle over the huge kitchen range. “They’ll be back soon. You’d best get back upstairs. Do you need some water to wash?”
“Oh, yes. I’ll take some back with me, thank you.” She gave him a hug and took the jug of hot water from him and set off back to her room, which she reached without incident.
She washed, cleaned her teeth, put on a nightgown and crawled into bed, where she fell asleep over British Antiquities at a little after two o’clock, dreaming of scholarly fame.
To her immense surprise and joy, she received a response to her application a week later. It had been a hard week. She had stammeringly refused the viscount’s offer and been confined to her room on bread and water by her irate mother. “Until you see sense,” she said.
Papa had received word that his sister, Aunt Agnes, was gravely ill and used that as an excuse to go to Bath rather than stay and wrangle with the problem of Emily’s intransigence, and she had no relatives or friends to turn to for help, she was trapped.
The servants were under strict instructions to bring her nothing but bread and water for the entire week.
She had been brought water to wash in daily, and her dirty clothes and chamber pot taken away and the bed made, but no other courtesies had been shown her.
Her maid didn’t even speak to her. Clearly the girl had been threatened with dismissal if she did.
She was close to changing her mind and accepting the viscount when the letter arrived.
As she’d had no real hope of receiving a positive reply, she was beginning to think that she would have to give in after all.
Her mother meant to starve her into submission, literally.
She was lamentably lightheaded and weak by now.
Gregory, bless him, had smuggled her a bit of cheese and the occasional apple, but it wasn’t enough.
He had also brought her the precious letter along with a bit of sausage and a handful of dates.
“I’m sorry about this, Miss Grenfell. It’s not Christian, it isn’t. But the countess has made it clear that if anyone helps you, they’ll lose their position. I can’t afford to be turned off without a reference, not at my age.”
“I know, which is why you need to be careful. Thank you for this,” she said, biting off a piece of the sausage and closing her eyes with a moan of delight as she chewed.
“I’ll be careful, miss. She can’t keep this up much longer, surely. If the earl were here, I’d speak to him. Except the countess has such a strong hold on him, I don’t know if I’d be safe.”
“No, no, you must not risk it. I think you’re right and Papa would not intervene. He will never cross Mama, even for me.”
“It’s not my place to speak ill of his lordship . . .” He left the sentence unfinished and squeezed her hand in sympathy.
Emily smiled a tight smile and saw him out the door.
She sat down to savor the sausage, bite by bite, and ate two of the dates before setting aside the rest for later.
Then, with shaking hands, she turned to the letter and broke the seal, uttering a prayer beneath her breath for a favorable reply.
Surely it was a positive answer to come so quickly, or at all?
With a fast beating heart and swimming head, she read.
Dear Miss Bromwich,
She had given a false name. What if she did get the position and her parents came looking for her . . .?
Your qualifications and experience are impressive for such a young lady.
She might have exaggerated slightly. And gosh, if her prospective employer thought twenty-four was young, what would they think if she confessed her real age was only twenty?
I would be pleased if you would present yourself for interview at Cheetham Court Sussex, on the 6th day of June, at ten in the morning.
Yours etc.
D. K.
The signature below the initials was an unintelligible scrawl.
“Yes!” Tears of happiness stung Emily’s lids as she grabbed her pillow and hugged it.
All she had to do now was figure out how to escape from the house and get to Sussex by the 6th of June, which was four days away.
Fortunately, she still had most of her last quarter’s pin money in her purse.
She wouldn’t be able to carry a great deal, but perhaps when she had secured the position she could send for the rest of her things.
Then again, perhaps not, as it would still be highly inadvisable to apprise her parents of her whereabouts.
She had not yet reached her majority, which meant that legally her father could compel her to come home whether she liked it or not.
When . . .if . . . But what if I’m not successful? What will I do then?
She shook her head, refusing to think about that. She would cross that bridge when . . . if . . . she came to it. She just had to get the position.