“I imagine that he will, yes, but you must know that I am always here for you, dear Georgiana.”
“I know, Aunt and I can never thank you and Uncle enough for everything you have done for me. Do you still think there is a way out of this dreadful mess?”
“I pray that there is, for all our sakes.”
“Aunt…”
“Yes, my dear?”
“There was a woman who helped me escape, though I was a perfect stranger to her. May we not do something for her?”
“How did she help you?”
Georgiana told the Countess how Mrs. Cartwright had suggested that she take the opportunity to slip out the back doorof the modiste’s establishment and find her relatives. She ended with, “I know not how I would have had the courage to escape without her help, and I certainly would never have known about that back door.”
The Countess nodded. “What would you like to do for her?”
Georgiana wrinkled up her nose in thought. “I recall her telling me that her wages are just enough to pay for her rent and a bit of food, so she will never be able to stop working.”
“Perhaps an annuity of some kind?”
“I do not know what that is,” Georgiana said, humbly.
“It means she would get a sum of money every month for the rest of her life.”
“Oh! That would be wonderful!”
“I will speak to your uncle; he will arrange it.”
“Thank you, Aunt,” Georgiana whispered. “That will mean the world to her.”
“Do you know the address of the boarding house?”
“Address? No. But I believe I could find it by retracing my footsteps from Madame DuBois’.”
***
Two days later, a man in business attire knocked on the door of Mrs. Younge’s boarding house. Mrs. Younge opened the door a crack. “Yes?”
“I am looking for a Mrs. Cartwright.”
“She is not here.” Mrs. Younge tried to close the door, but the man’s foot was in the way.
“Where might I find her?”
Mrs. Younge shrugged. The man dug into his pocket and produced a shilling, which he held. He repeated, “Where might I find her?”
Eyes on the coin, Mrs. Younge said, “She works for a seamstress; she will be return here at around six in the evening.” She snatched the shilling and slammed the door shut.
***
At a quarter after six, Mrs. Cartwright trudged wearily home. As she approached the doorstep of the boarding house, a man approached her. “Mrs. Cartwright?”
She stopped and looked up at him, eyes weary with work and worry.
“I am the solicitor for the Earl of Matlock. He wishes to thank you for your kindness to his niece.”
Half an hour later, Mrs. Cartwright had packed her few belongings into a satchel and had left Mrs. Younge’s boarding house, escorted by the kind solicitor, in favour of far nicer lodgings. The next day, she planned to tender her resignation to Madame DuBois.
