Page 4 of Rules for Ruin

Effie concealed a flinch. She had wondered how long it would be before Miss Corvus brought up her prevailing flaw. The very one that had resulted in Nell being so grievously injured all those years ago.

Suppressing her guilt, Effie affected an air of unconcern. “Even the great Achilles had a single weakness.”

“His undoing, as I recall. In your case, it has so far only been the ruin of Miss Trewlove. See that it isn’t yours as well.”

“Is that why you summoned me back?” Effie asked. “Do you want me scaling walls and peeping into high windows? If that’s your grand idea, I take leave to tell you that you have chosen the wrong girl.”

“Don’t be impertinent,” Miss Corvus said. “Remember to whom you are speaking.”

Effie fell quiet. She regarded Miss Corvus in mutinous silence.

“That’s better.” Miss Corvus blotted her lips with her handkerchief. Droplets of perspiration had gathered on her brow, and there was an unhealthy flush in her cheeks, as though the simple act of conversing had overtaxed her.

Nell had mentioned an illness, but she hadn’t put a name to it. It occurred to Effie that the complaint might be something rather more serious than a trifling cold or fever.

“Madame Dalhousie has sent regular reports of your conduct,” Miss Corvus said, lowering her handkerchief. “She claims you have left your propensity for chaos behind. That you have been a diligent companion; a keen observer and a quick learner. She also says you have garnered a legion of admirers. I trust you have not become entangled with any of them?”

Effie scorned at the suggestion. “Indeed, I have not.”

Any flirtation she’d indulged in during her time abroad had been in the manner of practice, not an exercise in passion. She’d been honing her skills, toying with the very gentlemen who sought to heartlessly toy with her. It had been no great feat. Quite the opposite, the male sex made it all too easy. They insisted on underestimating women. On believing young ladies were prey, rather than predator.

“I would expect nothing less,” Miss Corvus said. “You were always adept at transforming yourself to suit your company. It will serve you well in your next position.”

A flare of disappointment caught Effie unaware. “A new position?”

“You were expecting something else?”

“I have been nearly five years in Paris. I thought—”

Miss Corvus’s mouth curved. “That you had earned your stipend?”

Effie didn’t answer. It was, in truth, what she had thought. She could see now she was stupid to have believed it. Five years spent as a lady’s companion wasn’t precisely the same as a five-year teaching contract. Naturally, the same terms wouldn’t apply.

She felt a fool to have ever supposed they might. Worse than a fool, for she had lately built her dreams on the promise of that elusive stipend. She’d dared to imagine she and Franc might find a place for themselves somewhere. A home that would be theirs alone.

“What have you done to earn it?” Miss Corvus asked. “You have been in school, merely learning your trade.”

“I did not attend school in Paris.”

“On the contrary. If the Academy was your Eton, then Paris was your Oxford. I’ll allow that you have been a most devoted student. But a student is all you have been. It is now your work begins.” Miss Corvus looked at her steadily. “What have you to say to that? A position in another household?”

Effie swallowed the surge of bitterness that swelled in her throat. Whatever her private feelings, she refused to allow Miss Corvus to see them. A lady’s primary strength lay in keeping her composure. “What can I say?” she asked. “As ever, I exist purely at your pleasure.”

Miss Corvus didn’t dispute the fact. It had been her coin that had enabled Effie’s life in France these past five years. Her contacts, too. It was she who had made the arrangement for Effie to act as a companion to Madame Dalhousie.

Purchasing Franc had been Effie’s single stroke of independence. Unlike the clothes or the lodgings or even the acquaintances she’d made abroad, Franc belonged entirely to her.

“Then we are agreed,” Miss Corvus said. Opening the drawer of the table beside her, she withdrew a note card. A postal direction was written on it in black ink. She handed the card to Effie. “This afternoon, you will travel to London. You will go to that address in Mayfair. I have a contact there, Lady Belwood. She will sponsor your entry into society.”

Effie kept her countenance through pure force of will. It was one thing for an orphan girl to move in fashionable society as a lady’s companion. It was quite another for her to be introduced into that society as an equal. Such was the fate of the daughters of gentlemen, not former street children from the Rookery.

“To what purpose?” she asked.

“No one is yet acquainted with you in London,” Miss Corvus said. “You are a complete unknown. It’s why I insisted on you never visiting town before your time. And why I grew so angry when I discovered you’d attempted to do so.”

Effie was amazed Miss Corvus was willing to acknowledge the events of five years ago. But if she was prepared to reference them, then Effie had no intention of refraining. “I didn’t attempt to visit fashionable London. My business was in St. Giles.”

Effie had traveled there on the occasion of her eighteenth birthday. She hadn’t got far. Miss Corvus had intercepted her within a day.