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Lady Hermione, meanwhile, traded a couple of last Season’s tea gowns for several working girls’ outfits—hearty country woolens, well- made but serviceable, some rough capes against the cold and a few pairs of sturdy walking shoes. She told a maid at the Glaston Arms, the smart London townhouse of the Glastonbridges, that the clothes were for charity.
Just before the Academy disbanded for Christmas, she wrote,
Dearest Josie,
I think our plans are just about complete. Write His Grace your father that you have accepted a holiday invitation with me. I understand he is traveling in Portugal now, so likely he will be glad for you to join other celebrations.
When other families are picking up their daughters in their carriages, find one that is going to London and can drop you at the Glaston Arms. Make as little fuss as possible about it.
From here, we will change into our disguises and set off surreptitiously on our adventure! We should be fine, because I have about £15 in pin money for us (I know that Ducky keeps tight control over yours).
Ever your friend, Hetty
Fifteen pounds might be two years’ salary for a parlor maid. They would be fine for money.
They were already using their new names with each other, the ones they hoped would disguise their identities in London.
* * *
All went as planned. Dressed in working girls’ clothes, their hair pulled back into simple buns, they went looking for lodging in a “respectable-like” women’s boarding house.
Mrs. Rosie McCurdy, originally of County Galway, Ireland, had lived long enough in London to know a few things. But she could not quite figure out these two girls.
For one thing, their manner of speech was odd. Sometimes they dropped their “h’s” like Cockneys; other times, they sounded as posh as Princess Charlotte.
They said they were workers. But they kept to no fixed schedule, and they often slept through Mrs. McCurdy’s hearty breakfast. Moreover, they insisted on sharing their room only with each other, instead of in a group of four or more. They used a full pound coin to pay their first month’s rent—unheard of! Mrs. McCurdy had to go to her lockbox to bring them their change, in shillings, pence and farthings.
Which was reality, the Cockney speech or the posh affectations? And if they were indeed working, how did they earn their money? Mrs. McCurdy resolved to keep a strict eye on them.
* * *
London, unchaperoned, was an exhilarating experience for the girls. They walked everywhere in the crisp winter weather, thankful for their sturdy second-hand shoes.
They saw the Tower of London and remembered their schoolbook lessons about the wives of Henry VIII. They marveled at Westminster Abbey, and they tiptoed in hushed reverence around St. Paul’s Cathedral.
With the money in Lady Hermione’s pocket, they bought food from street vendors. They enjoyed the cockles and mussels sold on straight pins at the Thames’ docksides.
They wandered through countless parks, then had their midday meal of rough bread, pickle and cheese at public houses, washed down with a glass of ale.
A tired-looking woman holding a child started chatting with them one day in the middle of a busy street. She said there was colder weather coming on, and it would be hard on the boy, who easily caught the croup.
Lady Hermione was soft-hearted. She began telling the mother how she could ease the child’s croup by filling the room with steam. As they talked, a carter with boxes was crossing the road, and he stumbled into the women, spewing profanities at them for blocking his way.
Lady Hermione and Lady Josephine tried to help the other woman up. But the child escaped from his mother’s grasp and ran into an alleyway. The mother rose and ran after him, yelling for him. Both disappeared from view.
It was a few minutes later that Lady Hermione’s hand felt for the pocket sewn into the side of her gown. It had been slit, as if by a razor. Before Lady Josephine’s eyes, she went white.
“My God, Jo,” she said. “All our money. It’s gone. We’ve been robbed.”
They stood there and thought for a few minutes. “Was it the carter, do you think?” Lady Josephine asked. “Or the mother?”
“It could as easily have been the boy,” Lady Hermione answered. “They train them early, you know.”
“Well, no matter,” said Lady Josephine stoutly. “We shall now have to find work. We’re working girls, after all!”
“Atleastwepaid Mrs. McCurdy a month in advance,” Lady Hermione said glumly.
“Except now we will actually have to eat those dreadful, greasy breakfasts!” laughed Lady Josephine.
