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Clara had just started stitching when Mrs. Pyle appeared. She was older than Mr. Pyle, perhaps in her fifties, with ruddy apple cheeks, and wild, gray curls only partially contained by a lace cap.
“Lady Clara? You in a spot of bother?” Her pitch was higher than usual.
“Yes, `tis I. Nothing’s wrong. I know it’s not my day to visit, but I had need of Miss Stella. Only—I’m not certain of her direction. Could you help me find her?”
Mrs. Pyle’s shoulders dropped from their earlier scrunched position, and she exhaled her relief. “She’s here now, she is.”
“Miss Stella ishere?”
Mrs. Pyle nodded, her curls bobbing.
“Is she usually here on Fridays?”
“Yes,” she replied in a tone as if she were stating the obvious.
Her cheeks burned. As devoted as Clara was, Stella was most involved in a practical sense. When they set up the LLS, it was their understanding that Clara provided the funds and volunteered when possible, and Stella led in executing their plans.
“I shall find her, then. Thank you, Mrs. Pyle.”
“I’d best do that. She’s up with a new girl, a shy one. Let’s not show her a new face, eh? Not yet. And your lady’s face at that! Wait here, miss.”
She busied herself with the mending, and ten minutes passed before Stella found her.
“Clara!”
“Good day, Stella! I’ve come to seeyoutoday.”
Her expression turned neutral. “Oh?”
“All is well. You needn’t concern yourself. I’ve come in search of a favor.”Clara moved to the edge of her seat, feeling both excited and conspiratorial. “Would you share your counsel with me? I need…information.”
“Information,” she repeated, removing the apron she wore over her lavender dress before sitting. Her blonde hair was twisted up in a chignon, and she was lovely as always.
Clara thought her nothing short of angelic, especially when she saw her helping at Violet House—and even now, aware of Stella’s dual life, and about to take advantage of it.
“Yes. You know that I am…unmarried,” said Clara meaningfully.
Stella nodded.
“I’ve decided to pursue an interest, but I find myself woefully ignorant. I hoped that you’d be willing to remedy that.”
“You wish to marry? I’m afraid I….” Stella stopped when Clara shook her head in the negative. She realized what subject Clara might be pursuing. “You arenotseeking marriage.”
“Exactly.”
“And yet, you…” Stella gestured with her small hand.
“I wish to know a man.”
Leaning forward, Stella peered at her as if she’d started speaking in a foreign tongue. Clara waited, allowing her friend the time to decide whether she wanted to be involved.
After a full minute, Stella sat back against the chair, smiling. “A particular man?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re wondering…how to capture his attention?” Stella ventured.
“No. That part isn’t necessary.”
