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Still, hopefully this place proved more enlightening.
The front door opened before Charlotte reached it.
A tall butler bowed as she walked in. “Welcome, Lady Blackmore.”
Then he knew who she was—that always boded well for her.
“I have come to speak with the lady of the house.”
Again, her reputation and title did much for her, for only moments later, she was seated across from Lady Wendleston enjoying tea and cakes. Lady Wendleston seemed a quiet woman, with dark hair pulled into a simple chignon and tucked beneath a mobcap. Charlotte guessed Lady Wendleston to be at least fifteen years younger than herself, and, judging by the toy soldier tucked beneath the seat cushion where it almost couldn’t be seen, she still had young children.
Charlotte didn’t let the conversation go on for long before bringing up the purpose of her visit.
“I have come today for a particular reason,” she said after a few sips of tea, “and I hope you will not mind my being forward.”
“Not at all, Lady Blackmore,” Lady Wendleston said in a soft voice.
“I have come about Emma.”
“Emma?” The woman’s brow creased.
“The maid you acquired from The Asylum for Orphaned Girls. I believe she worked here for four months?”
Lady Wendleston’s cheeks reddened. “Oh yes, the girl Lord Windham recommended. Please forgive my forgetfulness.”
Then Lord Windham had foundbothEmma’s positions. That was interesting, even if it wasn’t exactly helpful.
Lady Wendleston smoothed her skirt, though it held no wrinkles. “I understand your ladyship is a patroness there?”
The woman was clearly nervous. Charlotte’s title sometimes had that effect. She smiled a bit brighter in the hopes of setting Lady Wendleston at ease. “Yes, I have been for many years, and I must say I was pleased you accepted a girl from the asylum. We have so many bright and kind girls.”
Lady Wendleston’s smile turned a bit more sincere. “When Lord Windham first mentioned it, I must confess I was rather uncertain. But the more I’ve learned of the asylum, the more I’ve come to feel it is a very worthwhile organization. One I am hoping to support again in the future.” Her smile faltered even as her voice grew smaller. “Emma is all right, is she not? I didn’t want to send her back, only my housekeeper kept insisting the girl wasn’t working out.”
Charlotte set her cup of tea down. “There was nothing wrong with it in the least. I believe each and every girl we help has the potential to be a great aid to nearly any household. But there’s no denying that once in a while, it simply is not the right fit.”
Lady Wendleston nodded, a bit of her previous smile returning. “Oh, good. I would hate to have done something that turned out ill for the girl.”
Charlotte’s heart went out to the woman—she not only wished to support a worthwhile cause in the best way she could but then worried about a maid even after leaving her employ. “Emma is well. But could you explain to me exactly why your housekeeper felt she wasn’t a good fit? I only wish to know so that I may ensure this type of thing doesn’t happen again.”
Lady Wendleston placed her teacup down as well, then rested a hand against the settee cushion as she leaned forward. “I’m afraid I can’t give you too many details. Mrs. Mead, my housekeeper, only said Emma wasn’t getting along with the other maids. I got the impression she didn’t always finish a job to Mrs. Mead’s satisfaction, which often meant the other maids had to come into the rooms after her and finish up the cleaning.”
That would rather put a strain on all the other maids, and in turn on Mrs. Mead. Charlotte asked a few more questions, but in the end, it was clear there wasn’t more to be learned. After a quarter of an hour visit—which, after so many years of calls, Charlotte knew was up without needing to glance at a watch or timepiece—she bid the other woman farewell and stood.
As Charlotte reached the door, however, Lady Wendleston called out, “I do hope Emma is well. I didn’t speak with her often, but she was always polite and well-spoken. One time, my little boy tore his jacket something dreadful, and she stitched it up most prettily. To look at it, one would not have known it was ever torn.”
Still dwelling on those kind—if not particularly helpful—parting words, Charlotte made her way back home. There had to be something she could do about Emma.
Taking her back to the asylum wasn’t feasible.
The asylum took in as many orphaned girls as they could since the alternative was a vulnerable life on the streets in the direst of circumstances.
But that also meant they were always bursting at the seams. When Emma had left, that had opened up a place for another young girl to be accepted, protected, and given the training and education necessary to someday also gain employ in a well-respected household. No, Emma couldn’t go back to the asylum.
Still, there was something off—something wrong in Emma’s life.
Charlotte now knew that Lord Windham had secured both positions for Emma. It seemed, yet again, all roads led back to him. If the young woman wasn’t willing to tell Charlotte what was wrong, then she would just have to keep meddling around until she figured it out for herself.
