Lady In Waiting Part 17

Jenny rounded her mouth and her eyes. "I am not wicked at all, Erma. But I am a shrewd merchant who will protect her business. I should think you'd want me as your ally rather than your foe."

Jenny scrutinized the scullery maid. Erma was a real threat. And though Jenny gave not a hoot about her cream business, she had to admit the money was very, very nice. Still, being exposed as Lady Eros could deeply hurt a number of people, including the dear Featherton ladies... and Callum. She felt a twinge in her heart at the thought.

Then an idea came to her and she fas.h.i.+oned a bright smile for the scullery maid. "Erma, how'd you like to make a few bob?"

The next day, Jenny quietly came to stand next to her mother beside the linen-dressed breakfast table, having been summoned above stairs by the Featherton ladies, who had only just heard of her return to the house.

Not noticing Jenny's arrival, Lady Let.i.tia propped her lorgnette on her nose and stretched the hand that held the newspaper to arm's length. "I say, 'tis almost like living in London. I would not have believed it possible that so much purse-s.n.a.t.c.hing, violence, and thievery would have ever occurred within the walls of Bath."

Taking a sip of chocolate, Lady Viola nodded in agreement. "Just Thursday last, Lady Avery was. .h.i.t in the head and her rings were s.n.a.t.c.hed right from her fingers. It's true, I tell you. I saw the cut on her brow and I own it was as long as my little finger." She wiggled her pinkie in the air. "To think, this all occurred just outside the Upper a.s.sembly Rooms. Then at the Ash rout on Monday, the countess's jewel box was stolen from her bedchamber. Her own bedchamber. Imagine that!"

Lady Let.i.tia let out a long sigh. "I daresay, there is a thief among our ranks."

"Indeed. Frightening, just frightening. Why I am feeling light-headed just talking about the horrors." Lady Viola waved her hand weakly. "Mrs. Penny, my vinaigrette, please."

As Jenny listened to the Featherton ladies, her thoughts became centered on the little man she'd seen outside the Pump Room and then later at the Bath Abbey.

Why, he was small enough to slip right by a person, sneak up the stairs, and make off with a fortune in jewels.

She wondered again if the magistrates ought to hear of her revelation, for if they already knew of him, he wouldn't be scurrying around highborn Bath s.n.a.t.c.hing up treasures, now would he? She really should report him to the authorities.

But wouldn't it be better if she were to find the baubles he'd taken and turn those in as well? She'd be a heroine and they'd throw a parade in her honor. Of course, everyone would be so grateful for her quick thinking that they would probably gift her with a jewel or two in thanks.

Besides, a few bob or a sparkler might really come in handy if she was with child-but of course nothing was for certain yet.

"Ah, Jenny, there you are. Come, sit down." Lady Viola patted the empty seat cus.h.i.+on beside her.

Jenny dolefully glanced at her mother, who shot her a sullen look as she settled a silver and crystal vinaigrette before her ladys.h.i.+p, then politely excused herself from the room.

"We received word from Lord Argyll about your unfortunate accident, but Mrs. Penny has informed us that you are perfectly well now. You undoubtedly have a strong const.i.tution to have survived with nary a chill."

"Yes, my lady." Jenny couldn't seem to raise her eyes and look at her employers. If she did, she knew the tears would start again. Lud, she'd tried very hard to block the heartache of Callum's betrayal from her mind. And had actually succeeded in thinking of other things for a full quarter of an hour. Blast. They were going to dredge the whole painful event to the surface again.

"Oh, dear. Such a glum face." Lady Let.i.tia clucked. "Viola, I think our gel is not nearly as happy as she would have us believe. Just look at the poor pup."

Heat began to rise into Jenny's cheeks as she felt two pairs of faded blue eyes scrutinizing her.

"Oh, my, you are right, Let.i.tia." Lady Viola set her cup into its saucer and leaned toward Jenny. "Didn't Lord Argyll afford you the attention you desired when you left for your stroll in Sydney Garden?"

"Oh, yes, my lady. Much more than I ever imagined." Jenny glanced up from the floor to see the two old women exchange concerned glances.

"Darling child," Lady Viola began hesitantly. "Do you mean to say he... well, certainly the two of you did not-"

But Jenny was already nodding her head. Why lie to them now? After all, if she was with child, they would learn of it soon enough. Secrets never lived long in the Featherton household. Lud, she was surprised word of her tingle cream sales hadn't yet drifted above stairs.

There was a collective gasp from the Feathertons, then abject silence as they considered her silent admission.

"Of course, afterward, he offered for you. Yes, of course he would have." Lady Viola beamed and clapped her hands excitedly. "When may we begin to plan the wedding?"

But Jenny only stared mutely back at her.

Lady Let.i.tia raised her hand, stopping her sister's merriment. "My, my. It seems our Lord Argyll is not quite the gentleman we had hoped he would grow to be." She leaned so close to Jenny that their noses nearly collided. "Sweeting, after the two of you... well, what did he say to you exactly. Perhaps you are merely confused."

Jenny released her breath and a watery whimper slipped out. "No, my lady. Sadly, I am quite clear on the matter. I believe his exact words were *I canna marry you.'"

Lady Let.i.tia nodded as if she suddenly understood. "Oh, this makes more sense. You told him the secret of your position within our household."

"No, my lady. He still believes me to be Lady Genevieve."

"Then why will he not marry you?" the two Featherton sisters chimed as one.

And so, in a hail of tears, Jenny explained everything. Told them about Lord Lyon, his lie, the abuse Callum suffered at his father's hand, and finally of his frightening vow to end his family line.

Lady Viola seemed as disturbed as she was confused. "But... but... if you are with child, his line has not been extinguished."

Lady Let.i.tia rose from the chair, her red cheeks puffing in outrage. "Oh, Viola! Do you not see? If he doesn't marry our Jenny, the child, if there is one, will be a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. In the eyes of the new Lord Lyon, and the law, when Callum pa.s.ses on without legal issue, the Argyll line will have been extinguished."

Putting her meager weight on her cane, Lady Viola raised herself to her feet. "Dear, dear. Of a certain, he will come around, and whether there is a child, or there is not, I know my Callum-err... Lord Argyll will offer for you whether you be Lady Genevieve or Miss Jenny Penny."

Jenny pressed on a weak yet hopeful smile for the ever optimistic Lady Viola.

In her heart, however, she knew better. For in the darkness of Laura Place, she had stumbled upon the ugly truth of her situation.

The man who honored truth above all things, the man who allowed himself to trust her when he would no one else, would never be able to accept the grand lie she had willingly perpetuated about her ident.i.ty.

Never.

"Jenny," Erma, the scullery maid, shrieked, "you're spillin' the emuls-the emuls-oh, b.u.g.g.e.r it-the b.l.o.o.d.y melted cream all over the table. Where is your head this eve?"

"Sorry," Jenny muttered. "But do try to keep your voice down. Lady Let.i.tia rang for my mother twice now, so I know she is not yet abed."

"Well, you mightn't care if you waste the cream, but you pay me a s.h.i.+lling per pot and you've already burnt a batch this eve, so I can't afford to lose none to the table and floor. 'Ere, let me pour it into the gallipots."

Jenny handled the iron ladle to Erma, then plopped down on a stool and tried to center her thoughts on her business... instead of on Callum, and her possible baby.

"How many pots does Bartleby need?" she asked Erma softly.

"Well, he said as many as I could deliver. Told me your idea about givin' the pots away with a posh purchase was brilliant. Said ladies of the Quality actually queue up to buy his baubles now. Oh! I completely forgot." Erma released the ladle and let it clatter to the worktable. "Hold on a tick. He sent a parcel over for you."

"For me?" Jenny perked right up.

When Erma returned, Jenny watched impatiently as the scullery maid set a small red leather box before her.

"What is it?" she asked eagerly.

"I dunno. Go on, open it."

Jenny bit her lip and she slid the tiny gold clasp aside and opened the lid of the box. There, inside, were the pearl earbobs he'd refused to let her put on her account. The earrings she'd seen the very day she first met Callum.

"Blimey, them are a lot grander than the pair he gave me for offering you up. Why, they're as fat as hazelnuts."

But Erma's words were scarce more than a buzzing to Jenny. She could not take her gaze from the magnificent pearl drop earbobs. "Blimey is right." She looked at Erma. "They're gorgeous! But why did he send them?"

"He said 'twas for the customers you've brought him. All it took was a notice in The Bath Herald and in The Bath Journal, and there was a queue clean down Milsom Street before opening time."

Erma leaned on the table and reached out to finger the earrings. Jenny s.n.a.t.c.hed them out of her reach.

"Where'd you learn about the merchant trade, if you don't mind me pryin' a bit? I never would have come up with an idea like that-free pots to make customers buy more."

Jenny shrugged. "I just imagined what might encourage me to buy from the top shelf-I mean, were I a lady of course."

Erma grinned at her. "For a s.h.i.+lling a pot, you are a real lady in my mind... Lady Eros."

"L-Lady Eros?" came Lady Let.i.tia's low voice from behind them.

"Oh, dear," Lady Viola uttered within the same breath.

A pang of horror propelled Jenny to her feet. She and Erma slowly turned around to see their employers standing just inside the kitchen door.

Erma dropped a quick curtsy, then hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Jenny to their mercy.

"My... my ladies. What are you doing below stairs?" Jenny managed to stammer.

"We smelled a queer odor drifting up the stairway and since we could not sleep, we decided to track its source." Lady Let.i.tia's thick white brows were drawn so close in the middle that they reminded Jenny of a furry V.

"The question should be, my dear, just what are you doing-Lady Eros, is it?" Lady Viola asked.

Oh, goodness. Here it comes now. She was going to be sacked. They wouldn't care that she was with child, or might be anyway. Blast! She would be on the street before morning, she just knew it.

"I... um..." Criminy. Just tell them the truth, Jenny. "I was making the tingle cream. And yes, I am Lady Eros, and this is the... below stairs cream that for some reason every member of the ton must have."

Stealthily, Jenny closed the lid to the red leather box from Bartleby's and covertly slipped it from the table and into her ap.r.o.n pocket.

The two ladies studied her for a long moment, then burst into laughter, startling Jenny so that she lurched. Tripping backward over the harvest basket, she slammed against the floor.

"Oh, Jenny, are you injured?" Lady Viola clucked as her sister knelt next to Jenny and began to help her to her feet.

Jenny shook her head dazedly, confused when Lady Let.i.tia, of all people, a.s.sisted her to the stool once more. "I am fine."

"Oh, good. Wouldn't want anything to happen to my great-" Lady Viola broke off and looked fearfully at her sister.

"Our... greatly entertaining lady's maid," Lady Let.i.tia concluded with a grand smile.

Hmm. Somehow Jenny got the impression that wasn't at all what Lady Viola had meant to say.

"You are not angry?" Jenny asked guardedly.

Lady Viola shook her head and brushed her question away with a wave of her bony hand.

"Y-you are not going to dismiss me?"

Lady Let.i.tia, who had a distinct twinkle in her eye, laid a pudgy hand on Jenny's shoulder. "Of course not, gel. There is nothing wrong with showing a bit of pluck-especially given your new condition."

"Possible condition," amended Lady Let.i.tia. Then she paused a moment as she and Lady Viola exchanged conspiratorial glances. "Though perhaps now we might be able to acquire a pot... or even two tonight?"

Though Jenny was still quite gobsmacked that her employers didn't seem to care a lick about her tingle cream business, she had to grin at the Feathertons' request. Stifling a guffaw as she lifted a gallipot in each hand, she watched her two elderly employers s.n.a.t.c.h them from her with gusto.

Lady Let.i.tia gave an exaggerated yawn. "We'll just be off to bed then, I think. I for one am quite sleepy suddenly."

Lady Viola nodded her head in agreement, sending the wattle at her throat wobbling. "As am I. Do get some rest, Jenny. I am sure tomorrow will bring us better news."

"Yes, my lady." Jenny rose and bobbed a curtsy as the snow-capped twins started for the stairway.

That night, heavy, driving rain poured over Bath, but the next day, the sun shone brightly, warming the air. By late afternoon, but for slushy mounds of snow nestled in shadows between houses, the icy blanket that had paralyzed Bath for two full days had melted.

Jenny had greatly needed those two days. It had been a blessing that she had been unable to leave the house. She had needed the time to think about the course her life should take-if she was indeed with child.

She could live out her life in service, this she knew. But Jupiter, that would be hard, especially after tasting the sweet life of her betters.

Her tingle cream business had taken Bath by storm, and she had earned quite a lot of blunt in the past weeks. That was good. But she'd spent every bit, right down to the last half crown, on gowns and adornments. That was bad.

Why, Miss Meredith had said her lady's maid possessed a far better wardrobe than she, and though Jenny denied it profusely, she felt quite satisfied in the knowledge that the statement was completely true.

Still, the ways of the ton were fickle and Jenny knew her fortune, and therefore her clothing-buying expeditions -and indeed her future-was limited by their whims, which of a certain would turn to some other diversion within time. Yes, her guinea-gaining days were limited. How much longer did she have? Another month? Two?

"What about a shop of your own?" Annie suggested as they walked to Trim Street for needles and silk thread that late afternoon. "You know, the old Upperton Dry Goods place on Milsom is still unoccupied. Has been for at least a year. I'm sure you could let the shop for a pittance."

Jenny kept walking. "Well, I haven't got any money, Annie, and besides, what would I sell?"

Annie scoffed. "What indeed! The tingle cream of course."

She stopped walking as an image erupted in her mind. A store br.i.m.m.i.n.g with luxurious fabrics and trims, fans and modish bonnets, fragrant scent bottles from France and her own blends of powders and beauty creams. And of course there would be earbobs, pendants, bracelets, and brooches... maybe even tiaras. A dreamy sigh flowed from her lips.

Annie chuckled. "There you go. You're seein' it now, aren't you? Let's go and take a peek through the window."

Jenny looked back at Annie, considering.

"It won't hurt none to peek. Come on, Jen. Just a quick glance and I'll stop pestering you." Annie tugged at Jenny's arm.

"Oh, very well." Jenny looped her arm around Annie's. "But this is folly, you know. Pure folly."

Several minutes later, Jenny stood with her nose pressed to an empty shop window, her hands cupped around her eyes like opera gla.s.ses. It was a narrow shop, far deeper than wide. And it reminded Jenny of her own bedside drawer where she kept her trinkets and treasures.

There was a long, horribly dusty gla.s.s front counter near the wall to the right, and cobwebbed shelves bracketing the wall behind it.

All Jenny saw was its carnival of potential, and for the first time in days, her blood began to pump madly through her veins. Pastel blue and cream satin would line the walls and a cheval gla.s.s would stand in the corner near two cream settees. Esteemed ladies would sit there and drink tea, while shop girls draped swathes of the latest fabrics over their arms and a modiste counseled them in the latest fas.h.i.+ons from Paris.

"Oh, Annie... I must do it. I must have this shop. Think of all the beautiful things I can fill it with-and they'd all be mine. Mine! Well, until someone bought something, of course."