AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Grayson residence
Grosvenor Square,
London, England
December 15, 1817
“There’s too much of a chill in the air. My joints are protesting it.”
Miss Felicity Cowan tamped down the urge to roll her eyes heavenward as her employer, Mrs. Rebecca Grayson, complained for the third time about the ambient temperature in the drawing room. The woman was at least five and sixty if she was a day, but though Felicity had worked as her companion for the last few years, her exact age remained a secret.
Her temperament, however, had not.
“Might I suggest a shawl or putting that nice fur-lined blanket over your legs?” she finally responded in the sickly-sweet voice she reserved for those times when her charge was especially trying. “Or perhaps I could ring for a footman to light the fire?” If the old woman was cold, it was her own fault. Ever since her husband had passed on, she’d become exceedingly frugal, which meant she refused to have a fire in the drawing room before December twentieth, unless there were guests.
And Mrs. Grayson rarely entertained. She claimed that ever since her son went to sea, she didn’t feel like celebrating anything.
The widow screwed up her face into an unflattering mask. “Absolutely not. I’ve survived much colder Decembers than this.”
“Ah, then you’re used to the chill.” By sheer willpower, Felicity stopped short of outright grinning.
“Yes, well, during January of 1811, the River Thames froze over. Never once did I light a fire in here until it was truly needed.”
Felicity wondered if that wasn’t what had hastened Mr. Grayson to the grave, for he’d expired from severe congestion of the lungs which had grown into a bad case of pneumonia. But she kept those thoughts to herself. Instead, she checked off an item on the shipping invoice she studied and said, “That doesn’t make you a figure of example, Mrs. Grayson.”
The older lady snorted. “Perhaps, but I also survived the winter of 1813/1814. It was one of the coldest on record.”
“Yes, I’m well aware. London held a Frost Fair on the frozen River Thames that year. In fact, I took you to that bit of entertainment. It was the first year I served as your companion.”
“And the second year my son spent on the seas on his last stint in the dratted Navy, and yet he’s still not returned.” Annoyance hung heavy on her words. Felicity didn’t blame her, for the post was spotty at best, and worrying over his whereabouts and fate must be quite stressful.
She nodded. “Don’t give up hope. I’m sure he’ll come home soon.” Felicity glanced across the room from her position at a small secretary desk. That year snow lay thickly all over London, and Town had been swathed in thick fog, made worse by people burning coal in their hearths to keep warm. It had been the one time Mrs. Grayson had broken her own rule. They’d had a fire in the drawing room a few days that winter, but the woman had been even more frugal the following winter. “I trust you haven’t forgotten last year’s cold,” she said for conversation. If nothing else, it distracted her from the problem of the numbers not adding up on the invoice she stared at.
“Of course not,” Mrs. Grayson was quick to respond. “No one will forget the year without a summer. The whole bloody year was cold.”
“I remember. It was quite odd.” The eruption of the Tambora volcano in East India had caused thick ash clouds that greatly affected temperatures on the Continent. Snow drifts had remained on the English hills in the countryside until late July, and by September the River Thames had frozen again. “I fear for our country if we suffer through another string of such winters.”
Last year had been trying, for the weather as well as the resulting shipping shortages and delays had aggravated Mrs. Grayson’s arthritis in her joints. It had also nearly sunk Felicity’s father’s business. To say nothing of ensuring there were very little outings of any kind for the widow. Additionally, everyone in London—perhaps not for the ultra-wealthy members of the haute ton—had to make do with scant ingredients for meals due to crops dying from the cold.
“I fear for my own health, but then, you wouldn’t mind me expiring early, would you?”
Felicity released a frustrated huff. “Of course, I don’t want you to die, but life would be ever more pleasant if you wouldn’t complain so much.”
Amusement flashed in her faded blue eyes—a true testament to how much she enjoyed their mock-argument. “You needn’t antagonize me at every turn, young woman,” she snapped as she pulled the fur-lined blanket close and arranged it over her legs. And she did so while seemingly never missing a stitch in the muffler she currently knitted with bright Turkey red wool. “Being economical is not a sin.”
“True, but conducting yourself without gratitude is,” Felicity responded without glancing up from a shipping invoice. She and Mrs. Grayson had this same quarrel a few times a week and had ever since Felicity had come into that woman’s employment. She could conduct the conversation by rote, and that was all to the good, for in addition to playing companion to the older lady, she also ran her father’s small import and export shipping outfit. It was his legacy and the only thing he’d left to her after his death.
And there was a glaring discrepancy in the invoice for goods she was supposed to have received this week. No doubt the shipment of silk still sat in someone’s hold. Well, drat. Now I’ll need to visit the docks. She suspected the sailors didn’t take her seriously due to her sex. Such things never occurred when her father was alive.
“You think I’m ungrateful for this life?” One of the older woman’s graying brown eyebrows rose in challenge.
“I do.” Felicity spared her a glance. “There are miracles and wonders all around us, but if you won’t open your eyes to see them, your life will always seem a drudgery, regardless of those with you who are working to make you as comfortable as you can be.”
For long moments, Mrs. Grayson remained silent, which was unusual for her. Only the clack of her ivory knitting needles punctuated the silence. “I appreciate what you do for me, Miss Cowan.”
Surprise bounced through Felicity’s chest, for she could count the times on one hand the widow had thanked her during her time as companion. “It makes me glad to hear, Mrs. Grayson.” Then she returned her attention to her invoice and scowled. “If they think they can short me twenty bolts of silk, they’re sorely wrong.”
