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Determined not to cry, Jacqueline nodded and kept her manner brisk. “It would be my honor.” When Mrs. Farrow had gone, she shut the door and sank back into her chair.
Miracle, indeed. The kind of love that had driven Dr. Whitehall to propose to Mrs. Farrow was something straight out of a fairy tale. Such love is for other people—certainly not a barren former harlot covered with scars like me. That she’d come to bear such labels without her consent didn’t matter in the least. No decent man would have her.
The muscles in her back twitched, and she stretched to ease them. As she did, the skin across her shoulder blades pulled taut in odd places. No. Not even the convenient lie of widowhood would be convincing enough. No man would ever look at her naked and think anything but the truth—that she’d been another man’s ill-used plaything. Who would desire such a wife?
Stop this. Stop it this instant. Dwelling on the past and bemoaning a future she couldn’t have did neither her nor anyone else any good. Hers was an enviable life now, and what she did mattered. Taking out another sheet of stationery, she focused on drafting the advertisement for Mrs. Farrow’s position.
…
September 3
Jacqueline was contemplating her bed when there was a knock on her door.
It was Katie. “Apologies for disturbing you at this late hour, Headmistress, but he has come.”
There was no need to ask who “he” was. “Is there anyone with him?” Jacqueline asked, taking up her shawl.
“Two girls. One looks to be about eight, the other is older. Fourteen maybe?”
Jacqueline sent Katie to the kitchen to fetch tea and a loaf for their guests, and hurried to the parlor.
Despite being fully aware of her past, the gentleman inside bowed as if she were royalty. “Madame Trouvère. My regrets for coming here so late, but I’m afraid it could not be avoided.”
“You are always welcome here, my lord.” Turning to the two girls, she smiled. “And you, as well. I am Madame Trouvère.”
The children stared at her with unconcealed apprehension.
Jacqueline knelt, putting herself at eye level with the younger one. “You are safe here. You need not be afraid.”
The older girl stepped between them. “’is Lordship says this is a school.”
“It is indeed. A very special school.”
Peeking out from behind her sister’s skirts, the younger one piped, “We ain’t never been to no school.” She whinged in protest as her sibling shoved her back behind her.
“I told ’is Lordship I’d work to pay ’im what I owes,” said the elder. “What do the likes of us need to go to school for?”
“So you can learn how to speak and behave properly,” Jacqueline replied. “You will also learn to read and write and many other fine things.”
“What good’ll that do?”
“All the girls here learn such skills so that when they leave, they will be able to find work befitting a lady,” Jacqueline explained patiently.
“Lady?” Rough laughter erupted from the child’s mouth. “I ain’t no lady.”
“Perhaps not now, but if it is within my power to make it so, you will be.”
“But school’s for rich people, an’ we ain’t got no money.” A decidedly grubby thumb jerked in Tavistoke’s direction. “I told ’im so.”
“You won’t need any money here,” Jacqueline assured her. “This gentleman has taken care of everything. All you need concern yourself with now is learning.”
“Why would ’e do that?” The girl cast another nervous glance at Tavistoke. “You don’t owe us nothin’—it’s me as owes you.”
Jacqueline stepped in before he could speak. “His Lordship is a good, kind man who has brought others like you here to safety. You will meet them tomorrow after you have rested.”
“I don’t want nothin’ I cannot repay,” insisted the girl. “I can earn me keep. I’ll work—honest work, mind.” Her voice wavered. “That other woman made me do bad things to earn me bread, but I ain’t never doin’ them again. You can starve or ’ang me, but I won’t—an’ I won’t ’ave me sister do it none, neither.”
Dear God…
