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Hide her true emotions with a smile and a proverb.
“I’ll wait then,” she said with a decisive nod. Though she couldn’t afford to stay in London very long.
“A waste of your time,” said Mrs. Trilby. “I only offered you the Folsom post because you studied under my dear schoolmate, Mrs. Crowley. God rest her soul.”
Mrs. Crowley. Even her name made Mari’s belly lurch. The headmistress at Underwood had made her childhood a misery.
She could well imagine the two women had been bosom friends, as they shared a similarly glacial and unsympathetic disposition.
“This was your one chance, Miss Perkins,” said Mrs. Trilby. “Now good day to you.”
Her one chance. The chance to break free from the stifling confines of the charity school. To discover the truth of her birth and make something of her life.
“Mrs. Trilby, I do implore you to reconsider. I’ve no family or friends in London, and nowhere to go. I’ve never even left Derbyshire before now. Besides which, all of my possessions were stolen this morning. I do hope you might find it in your heart to help me find another family.”
“Quite a tale of woe.” Mrs. Trilby rose from her desk, her expression stern and unyielding. “If I had a shilling for every girl who thought it my duty in life to rescue her, I’d be a very rich woman indeed.” Gripping Mari by the elbow, she steered her out of her office, back through the parlor, and toward the entrance hall.
A maid stood at the ready with Mari’s bag and umbrella.
Dread clutched at Mari’s throat. “Please, Mrs. Trilby. You wouldn’t cast me out into—”
“Good day, Miss Perkins.”
The door slammed in her face.
Mari’s shoulders slumped.
Well this was nothing new. Life had been slamming doors on her since birth. Abandoned at the orphanage when she was a babe, she’d known only harsh words and hunger.
Wicked, ungrateful girl. Plain and unpleasing. You’ll never amount to anything.
Where could she go now? There were few options for orphaned girls of no family or fortune.
The pretty charity school girls sometimes married farmers and left in a one-horse cart, with no further need of the education they’d received at Underwood.
Freckled and unfortunately red-haired girls like Mari had to create their own opportunities, or spend their entire lives within the gray stone walls of Underwood.
She would eat her straw bonnet before she returned to that cold, lonely cage.
Heaven helps those who help themselves.
She’d known that no one would hand her anything on a silver platter.
There was nothing for it but to march back inside and find a way to convince Mrs. Trilby to give her another chance. But before she could move, a stout woman in a tall bonnet trimmed with gold braid swept past her and rang the bell.
The door opened. “Miss Dunkirk? We’re not expecting you,” said the maid.
“A word with your mistress, if you please,” said Miss Dunkirk in a loud voice.
Recognizing her opportunity, Mari snuck in behind Miss Dunkirk.
Mrs. Trilby appeared at the door to her offices. “Why, whatever is the matter, Miss Dunkirk? Why aren’t you at Grosvenor Square?”
“I’ll never go back to that den of vipers, Mrs. Trilby,” barked Miss Dunkirk. “Not if you shower me with all the jewels in Christendom.”
“But I had such high hopes for your success.” Consternation wrinkled Mrs. Trilby’s brow. “If you can’t make those children behave, then all is lost.”
Something was amiss. Miss Dunkirk had left her post precipitously. Could this be an opportunity for Mari?
