Chapter Two
‘I can hardly wait to see them. Can you, Trudy?’ Ophelia Granger asked.
She suppressed the urge to skip down the cobbled walkway as she and one of her best friends, Gertrude Hastings, and their chaperone, Lady Daphne Buchanan, made their way from Westchester Manor, where they were staying, to the main thoroughfare of Mayfair where more shops than one could ever have fathomed sold their wares.
In a few minutes, they would be at the printer’s shop, and Ophelia could hardly contain her excitement.
‘And to think, less than two weeks ago we were in Stow-on-the-Wold working as shopgirls at Winston’s selling parasols, hats, hosiery and gloves to the finer ladies travelling through and being snubbed at.
Now we are ladies traversing town in London visiting fine shops.
It is almost unthinkable, is it not, Trudy? ’ She smiled and turned to her friend.
Trudy frowned, making her already dark brows and features appear even more severe.
She sent a cutting glance and said nothing in reply.
Trudy was not a morning person, and Ophelia had all but dragged her from bed early this morning to come along with her and Lady Buchanan.
Ophelia pressed her lips together and continued walking.
She knew Trudy was excited for her or at least she would be after she properly woke up and had some food.
She was a bit unmanageable without food or rest, and unfortunately, Ophelia had rushed her friend from the manor, denying her both. She would remember for next time.
‘I for one cannot wait to see what you have designed,’ Lady Buchanan said with a small nod of her blond head. The woman’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief.
‘Thank you, Lady Buchanan.’ Ophelia beamed at her. Trudy grumbled something under her breath. Ophelia was glad she had not heard it. Nothing would get her down. Not today.
Today was the day she would become a business owner.
‘How many times must I tell you, please call me Daphne. Both of you,’ Lady Buchanan teased.
‘Yes, Daphne,’ Ophelia replied pleased at her friend’s joy and support of her new business venture.
‘I trust my cousin and his wife are spoiling you both during your stay in London?’ she asked, falling into step alongside Ophelia.
‘Yes, exceedingly so. I may not ever wish to leave.’
Ophelia and Trudy had arrived only last week to stay with Hattie, their childhood friend, whom they had grown up with at the orphanage in Stow after their parents had died, and her new husband, William Sutherland, Duke of Wimberley.
They had wed over the summer and upon getting settled in at His Grace’s home here in London, Hattie had invited her dear friends for a four-month stay until the start of the New Year.
Ophelia viewed it as the perfect opportunity to see if she could achieve her dream of turning her gift at matchmaking into a thriving business outside of Stow.
Ophelia had high hopes that her business would be a success and allow her to stay on in London permanently.
‘Well, perhaps you will find your own match here in London as you make matches for others,’ Daphne said, nudging Ophelia’s forearm. ‘Heaven knows, you have keen skills as a matchmaker. I am proof of it, and I shall tell everyone just that.’
Ophelia pursed her lips. Did she dare dream of such coming true during her stay here in London? While she was indeed good at securing matches for others, could she secure one for herself?
Indeed, she longed to find the prince she had always hoped for as a girl, and have a true family of her own making, but doubt made her stomach lurch.
Would Society look down upon her for having no birthright?
Of course they would. Do not be a fool. Heat flushed her skin.
She was an orphan. She did not even know who her father was, and she never would.
But not knowing him was just one of the many abandonments and losses she had experienced in her life, and despite her sunny disposition, she feared when the next one might happen and kept a fierce hold on her happiness.
It was also why she was so invested in finding happiness for others.
Everyone deserved to find love and to have their own happily ever after, no matter their past or present circumstances.
Ophelia forced a smile, eager to focus on her new business at hand and bask in Daphne’s praise and happiness over her upcoming marriage to Lord Nathan Parks, rather than her own disappointments.
The two were perfect for one another. Meeting them last summer at Hattie and William’s engagement party was a lovely surprise and another opportunity for Ophelia to hone her skills as a matchmaker.
She knew they might be well suited as she watched them interact with each other that first night.
Now, she could hardly wait to see them joined as man and wife living a blissful life together.
They both had endured such hardships with their first marriages that a joyful second match was the least of what they deserved.
Focusing on what she could control and the joy her skills created would have to be enough… for now.
‘And we are so grateful that you agreed to stay at the manor while we are here in London, so you may act as our chaperone and explain to us the ways of Society here. Hattie confessed she is still learning her role as duchess and coupled with the strains of morning sickness her early months of pregnancy has brought on, your support is appreciated. I must admit, so much of this is foreign to us,’ Ophelia said.
‘We did not have such strict expectations placed on us in Stow.’
‘It is the least I can do for you two, and I do love seeing William, Hattie and Millie so happy. I cannot tell you how difficult these past few years have been.’ Daphne smiled before glancing down to refasten the button on one of her gloves.
Ophelia did not need her to explain. Hattie had apprised her and Trudy of William’s loss of his father and first wife the year before Hattie became little Millie’s governess, and how the little girl’s struggles to speak after losing her mother had deeply impacted her father.
‘But now,’ Daphne said, ‘there is so much joy in that household, and it’s hard to get a word in with Millie. The little girl has so much to say.’
‘It is a miracle indeed, and a joyous one at that,’ Ophelia agreed.
They fell into a companionable silence as they walked on with the warm sunshine streaming down upon them.
Ophelia saw the sign for Mr. Burke’s print shop and squealed.
‘Look! There it is. Soon I shall have the cards in my hands. I cannot wait.’ She clutched her reticule and beamed at Trudy.
To her surprise, Trudy smiled back and shook her head.
‘It is impossible to be dour around you,’ she admitted. ‘I am excited for you, Phelia.’
Ophelia reached out and squeezed Trudy’s hand. ‘Thank you. And I know one day you will be working in that science lab you have always dreamed of. It will happen for us. Look at Hattie.’
Trudy shrugged and let go of Ophelia’s hand.
‘I do not have the hope you do, but it would be lovely. One day, perhaps.’ She grinned as they stopped in front of Mr. Burke’s shop.
‘But today, Ophelia Granger, is your day. Go in and get those cards of yours. I shall wait out here and enjoy the morning sunshine. It appears quite crowded inside.’
‘But I shall go with you,’ Daphne said. ‘You cannot be seen shopping without a chaperone. Even if it is inside a printer’s shop.’ She winked at her and tucked Ophelia’s arm within her own.
Ophelia took in a breath and stepped inside, eager for her future.
‘Good morning, Mr. Burke,’ she said as they finally reached the counter.
‘Here for your calling cards are you, Miss Granger?’ The rather rotund old shopkeeper gave her a smile.
‘Yes, and I can hardly wait to see them.’
He nodded and called back to his son, who gathered up the small box of cards and brought it over. He flushed when he handed her the box. ‘I added an extra little flourish, Miss Granger. Free of charge. I hope you like them.’
‘I am sure I will. Thank you!’ She took the box and slowly opened it, carefully peering in at her new cards signifying her first step as an official matchmaker. The sight of them almost knocked her off her feet.
‘Oh, they are gorgeous! You’ve both exceeded my expectations and simply outdone yourselves.
I cannot thank you enough.’ Ophelia released a tiny squeal of delight as she stared upon the beautiful engraved calling card she held in her gloved hands.
The small white rectangle was simple, yet stylish.
The Cupid’s Arrow Agency stood out with its raised slanted black letters neatly centred on the card with flourishes on each side.
Her name was printed beneath, with the word proprietor listed next to it.
Proprietor.
It was truly happening. She could hardly believe it.
She, Ophelia Granger, an orphan from Stow-on-the-Wold, was now an independent proprietor—a matchmaker, who would make her mark in London.
She would seize every opportunity and advantage her four-month stay in town could afford her.
And if she were lucky, she would make enough of a mark on Society that she could stay in London and live the life she dared to only dream of.
She loosened her hold on the card for fear of crushing it, and placed it carefully back in its fine box. She opened her reticule and gently nestled the container of fifty cards within it before snapping it closed carefully.
‘Good luck, Miss Granger,’ Mr. Burke called out as Ophelia headed to the door.
‘Thank you again. Have a lovely day!’ she replied and pushed the door open, relishing in the sweet tinkling of the bell above her as the warm sunshine hit her face.
‘They are perfect, Trudy,’ Daphne exclaimed as they walked up to her. ‘You must see them.’