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Pippa was astonished, impressed, and excited. “How often would a story be required?”
“At least once a week,” Mr. Bell said.
“There may not be a scandal every week,” she murmured thoughtfully.
“But there can be a story,” Miss Tilby replied. “The latest fashion and hairstyles. We could hint of engagements and speculate on attachments before such news are even broken to the Times, The Morning Post, and the Gazette.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Bell beamed. “People will gobble up the variety and be on tenterhooks for the next scandal.”
Mr. Bell was ambitious in his comparisons.
Twenty pounds a month would go a long way in providing for herself and mamma. Even if it would not allow them to live in the style and comfort befitting a baroness and her daughter. But it was a start, and one Pippa would take. She knew of society’s insatiable desire for scandal. She devoured the weekly penny sheets that told of all and sundry. And now she would be more than a purveyor, but an authoress. Trepidation and anticipation blossomed through Pippa, but she had to temper it with good sense. “I’ll not pander to ruining anyone, Mr. Bell.”
He and Miss Tilby shared a glance.
“My personal humiliation has been aired in scandal sheets across the capital before.”
A shocked silence descended.
"My life…my mother's life became fodder for gossip and speculation, and for weeks we were dissected without remorse.” She cleared her throat. “I would not be able to do that to another person.”
Miss Tilby stepped forward. “Not every gossip is a scandal or a pathway for entertainment. We will respect your boundaries.”
She assessed the pair. No nerve or uncertainty stirred within her belly. They seemed sincere, and both exuded integrity and pride in their work. This would be her first place of employment, and she was, in a sense, in dire need of it. But it was vital for her to feel at ease within the environment she would work. Holding out her hand to Miss Tilby for an unorthodox handshake, she said, “Teach me everything.”
Chapter 4
Three months later…
“I declare I would give all my hat money to know the identity of Lady W,” Miss Henrietta Rawlings said in admiring tones. “I daresay she must be someone of influence to know so much! Why, she’d declared puce feathered hats would become the rage, and it has!”
"I say she is a nosey body which should not at all be admired," countered Lady Amelia with a prim sniff. “And she must be one of us to know all she does, and why, that is insupportable.”
Pippa sipped her glass of punch, hiding a secret smile. The very people who still treated her with veiled disdain had no notion she was the noted gossip columnist who was praised for her sarcastic wit, the quality of her stories, and frequently, satire mentioning some social injustice. At times, Pippa thought it all so absurd, but Mr. Bell had been true to his word. With each story written and delivered, she’d gotten a note of five pounds. In a couple of months, she’ll have saved one hundred pounds, a small fortune in its own right. She could only anticipate what another year or two of savings could accomplish for her family.
Of course, not all her stories bordered on salacious. In addition to reporting on the elopements and the lovers seen scurrying off in dark corners, she also speculated on high profile marriages of members within the ton. A few weeks ago, she played a guessing game with the Marchioness of Brampton’s son. To the delight of the purveyors of her scandal sheet, Pippa had declared the marchioness’s son’s name would be George, Elliot, or William. How surprised she’d been that bets had started at White’s, and when the marchioness named her son George. The public adored Lady W even if she was unconventional in her scandalous tales. Such as, when she’d heard a countess scathingly remark that the orphans who accosted her carriages when about town should be flogged. Pippa had done a piece highlighting their desperate plight and asking for compassion instead of disdain. Mr. Bell had been surprised, but he’d allowed the article to be published. She'd done a follow-up, seeking donations for several charities and the response from the public had been incredible. Still, she was careful in also sating their insatiable appetite for tittle-tattle.
Her friendship with Miranda and the generosity of their hostess Lady Leighton had seen Pippa attending many balls and routs. Though she found it uncomfortable integrating with a set who did not seem inclined to forget the terrible scandal or to be welcoming to her. It suited her purpose not to be popular
or well sought after. That way, she was invisible to society, and surely no one would ever imagine her to be the notorious columnist.
"Oh, I do wish we were at Lady Burrell’s weekend garden party instead. I heard that the Duke of Carlyle will be in attendance,” Miss Rawlings continued.
Pippa gasped silently. Though none of the ladies would notice her behind the column which she stood. The Duke of Carlyle was loved by the public, so any story about him enticed the people. And with him being the catch of this season, she could only imagine the many scandalous situations that would occur or could give rise to speculations at the weekend-long event. Miranda and her mother had gone to that impromptu weekend garden party hosted by Countess Burrell. Pippa had thought it would be a dreadful bore to be holed up inside for a few days, mingling with people she could barely tolerate, merely because they resented her presence. But the duke’s attendance would have made it worthwhile if only she had known.
“It’s a wonder the duke would attend,” Lady Amelia said with great disapproval. “Everyone knows a house party is designed for scandalous trysts! He is so very proper, and wonderful even if he can be quite terse at times. Why, I heard he made Miss Charmaine Gentles flee in tears a few weeks ago?”
“Do tell,” another voice twittered.
There was a shuffle as if they huddle closer together.
“No one knows what happened, but she has declared her intention to avoid Carlyle at all cost.”
“Nothing could induce me to avoid him! He is the most eligible catch for the last two seasons, and every mater would simply adore having a man of such wealth and consequences to be their son-in-law.”
Several longing sighs sounded.
Pippa peeked around the column at that declaration and spied Miss Lucinda Brockman sighing over the duke. Pippa considered if there was anything newsworthy in their idle chatter to publish, or if she could inform mamma, she was ready to depart. Perhaps one story for the month about that particular duke was more than enough. She’d already mentioned a tidbit she’d heard a few weeks ago about the duke being affianced to a Russian heiress with more than one hundred thousand pounds a year.
