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Chapter 2
“We have a client,” Miss Hermina Fernsby said, still hardly daring to believe their good fortune. “Someone saw my advert and has responded with a letter.” Pushing away from the small oak desk, she skirted around the furniture to her aunt who sat in the faded, striped settee once again reading one of her favorite gothic romances.
“A paying client?” Aunt Imogen asked, pushing her spectacles up her slim nose and reaching for the letter. Normally a portly and very pretty lady of two and forty, her aunt had lost several pounds in recent time. It had given her usually sweetly rounded face sharp angles with more defined cheekbones. Her loveliness and cheerful nature had not changed despite the direness of their future.
Mina nodded eagerly, still unable to believe their fortune. “Yes, the offer is incredible, look.”
Aunt Imogen quickly read the content of the letter, and she must have reached the part that had almost inspired Mina to swoon, for her aunt gasped. She was speechless for a full minute, then she muttered, “Two thousand pounds?”
“A bloody fortune! With this money I should be able to support us well for a few years.”
“Mina!” she scolded with a cluck of her tongue. “If this client were to hear you speak in that crass manner, you would lose them right away.”
Certainly her aunt was correct. Mina peddled her skill as a lady who was capable of teaching ladies and gentlemen seeking town bronze, concentrating on imparting proper comportment and decorum, and thus making them suitable to mix with the sticklers of the ton. It would matter to those clients that she was the picture of propriety herself and not the hellion her aunt sometimes teased her about.
“Yes, aunt, I am sorry. I will mind my manners better.” Mina closed her eyes and silently screamed her joy.
This was the break she had been hoping would happen for the last eight months. How she had dreaded the coming winter. They had even lost their housekeeper last month, and the cook had informed Mina only this morning that the food in the larder would not last the week.
Her aunt had tried to convince Mina to return once more to her family in Berkshire, in the hopes they might finally take pity on her and welcome her back home. But Mina had refused to leave her kind and recently widowed aunt who had loved and cared for her when everyone else had cut her because of the painful blemish on her reputation.
Uncle Robert had died last year, leaving Aunt Imogen with only a widow’s portion of two hundred pounds. Everything else had gone to a cousin whose family was already too large with six children for him to support Mina and Aunt Imogen. Mina had used money they could barely afford to spend in advertising her services for the last five months. She had almost given up. The weight of caring for herself and her aunt had been heavy. It had felt as if their very existence depended on her, and she dared not fail.
“This letter is oddly worded,” Aunt Imogen said, jarring Mina out of her reverie.
“Odd,” she said, reaching for the piece of paper. “I thought it splendidly worded.”
Dear Mrs. Hermina Fernsby,
After seeing your advert, I believe you might be the right person to hire to offer lessons in elegance, etiquette, and propriety for my family. They are fairly new to town, high society, and their peccadilloes. I was informed by a most credible source that it would need a miracle to impress certain lessons on us louts; however, after reading your book, very insightful by the way, I believe you are my miracle.
I am prepared to offer a sum of two thousand pounds for a year’s contract of your services. I am also happy to provide room and board at our home for your convenience. I will pay a quarter of your salary upon signing the contract. The next quarter will be paid when I can successfully dance the waltz; another quarter when Penny learns to walk without skipping, for I believe should you achieve that feat, it would be a testimony to your skills and patience. I will remit the remainder at the end of the year.
If you are interested in this post, please come to the above address on Monday at ten in the morning for an interview.
Sincerely,
Mister Colin Fairbanks.
“Who is this, Penny?” Aunt Imogen sniffed. “The letter lacks the elegance and the clarity of a gentleman of sound mind.”
Mina chuckled. “I think Mr. Fairbanks is probably a trifle eccentric and might be in his dotage. However, I daresay we shall get along famously once I pass his interview,” she said, walking over to the sofa to sit.
One of the springs poked her in the hip, and she shifted to a part where the cushions were not so worn. “From the tone of Mr. Fairbanks’s letter, I gather his charges are rather precocious and from the country. I am confident I will be able to take them in hand.”
Aunt Imogen sent her a bird-like glance of inquiry. “You think they are young children? You have little to no experience with children, my dear.”
“This Penny skips instead of walking; I think it is unlikely she is a young woman, and it should be easier to teach a child. They are more malleable, you know.”
“This offer rings as far too fortuitous to be true,” Aunt Imogen said with her usual straightforward attitude in such matters. Still, bright hope burned in her soft hazel eyes.
Unexpectedly a wave of emotions rushed over Mina, and her hands shook. “Aunt Imogen…”
Her aunt smiled. “I understand, my dear. I am also overcome. I am proud of you for believing you could do this.”
She rose and went over to her aunt, hugging her. “Thank you, Aunt Imogen, for trusting me in this.”
“You are welcome, my dear; now call for a pot of tea and cakes. This demands a celebration.”
