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Chapter 1
London
Mrs. Trilby’s Agency for Superior Governesses
“You’re late,” said Mrs. Trilby, staring down her long nose at Mari.
“Only f-fifteen minutes,” gasped Mari, wiping raindrops from her cheeks, her heart still pounding from running the entire distance from the coaching inn.
“Punctuality, Miss Perkins, is the cornerstone of my agency.”
“I’m dreadfully sorry, truly I am. There was a lame girl trying to cross a crowded avenue and I was afraid she’d be crushed. I sprang to her assistance, but while I was helping her several children made off with my trunk. Little ruffians.”
“Humph,” sniffed Mrs. Trilby. “A common enough scheme to rob country folk. You should have been on your guard against trickery.”
“And let the poor girl be trampled to death?”
“Heaven helps those who help themselves, Miss Perkins.”
“Well I’m here now,” Mari said brightly, “and ready to be a credit to your agency.”
“I’m afraid Mrs. Folsom was in no humor to wait. She required a governess immediately and I supplied her with one.” Mrs. Trilby’s gaze flicked over Mari’s wrinkled, travel-stained pelisse. “I have a registry of presentable, punctilious ladies waiting for situations.”
“But I was promised the position. I have your letter right here.” She drew it out of her reticule and presented it as evidence that she’d been offered the position as governess to Mr. Folsom, a mill owner with a brood of eight children.
Not too fine a family, nor too genteel.
Mrs. Trilby folded her hands on top of her desk. “The position has been filled.”
“But—”
“No buts, Miss Perkins. My Superior Governesses must always be scrupulously ahead of schedule. You might seek more suitable employment, perhaps as a scullery maid.”
Mari crumpled the letter in her fist.
She’d spent the last decade studying Latin, geography, and history into the wee hours of the morning, after all her many duties and chores at the Underwood Orphanage and Charity School were finished.
She was not going to become a scullery maid.
A governess would receive a higher salary and precious free days that would allow her to follow the clues she’d recently uncovered about her parentage.
Hope flooded her heart.
To find her kin. To belong somewhere. It was all she’d ever wanted.
She folded her hands together and took a deep breath. “I’m qualified to be a governess to a tradesperson’s family. Is there another position, perhaps? I can’t afford to be particular. I’ll accept anything, no matter how difficult or insalubrious the conditions. Give me a dozen children and you’ll not hear me complain.”
“A post for a girl of your circumstances does not simply materialize out of thin air, you understand.”
Mari swallowed a sharp retort.
A girl of her circumstances.
An orphan raised in a charity school. Unwanted and burdensome.
She’d learned the hard way that no one wanted a girl like her to exhibit any backbone.
She’d learned to bite her tongue. Bide her time.
