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“What is your name, dear?”
Lizbeth looked into Mrs. O’Leary’s sympathetic eyes. “Miss Lizbeth Davenport.”
Mrs. O’Leary nodded and kept up a constant chatter as they wound their way through the streets to a less busy one with a number of structures that appeared to be boarding houses.
“Here we are, dear.” She climbed the steps and the door was opened by the man in dark pants, a waistcoat, jacket, and ascot who bowed at the two of them. “Good afternoon, Mrs. O’Leary.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Andrews. This is Miss Davenport who has come for tea.”
Mr. Andrews bowed, and Mrs. O’Leary led her to the back of the house to a large, well-equipped kitchen. “Just sit there, dear, and I’ll make the tea. I have food left from dinner that I will be happy to offer you.”
Lizbeth shook her head. If she attempted to put anything in her stomach with the way it was roiling, it wouldn’t last long. “No. Thank you, but the tea will be fine for now.”
Once the teapot was on the table and they sat across from each other, Mrs. O’Leary patted Lizbeth’s hand. “Tell me what happened.”
Lizbeth took a sip of tea and placed the cup in the saucer. “We oftentimes have jewelry or other trinkets that women want to be used in the making of a special-order hat. Today when I was leaving, I handed over my reticule to the man at the door like we do every night for inspection.”
She took another sip and continued. “He found an expensive brooch in my reticule that was to be used for a special order.” Before the kind woman could think badly of her, Lizbeth hurried on. “I didn’t take it. I assure you, Mrs. O’Leary, I have never stolen anything in my life.”
“I’m sure you didn’t, dear. I am a good judge of character and you seem to be trustworthy. Otherwise I wouldn’t have invited you to my home.”
“Thank you.” The kind words brought tears to Lizbeth’s eyes. “I tried to explain that anyone could have taken that brooch and put it into my reticule. I even mentioned to the manager that I would never put it into my reticule when I knew it would be searched. But he dismissed that as not important. The entire thing is confusing.”
“Do you have family to take care of you?”
Lizbeth shook her head. “No. My parents and two brothers died of influenza four years ago. I’m afraid I’m all alone in the world.” More tears.
Mrs. O’Leary studied her for a minute. “Oh, you poor dear. All alone in the world. No husband, either? Or betrothed?”
Lizbeth shook her head. “No. I’m an artist, and when I arrived in Bath, I had intended to pursue my art and possibly have an art show. But that never happened before my money ran out and I took the job at the hat factory.” It felt good to talk to the woman. Being a bit on the shy side, Lizbeth did not make friends easily and the women she worked with were mostly married or supporting fatherless children and had no time for friendship.
Mrs. O’Leary continued to study her. “I have an open room here right now. I would be happy to allow you to use it, free of charge, until you find another position.”
Lizbeth’s eyes widened as she wiped her wet cheeks. “Why would you do that?”
The woman sniffed. “I was once all alone in the world myself. I know how frightening it can be for a young girl. If you are willing to do a few things around the house, changing bed linens, helping with dinner, and such, I think it would work out.”
As much as Lizbeth wanted to jump at the chance, her innate honesty reared its head. “I appreciate your offer, Mrs. O’Leary, but since I was fired for stealing, it might be some time before I find another job.”
Again, the woman patted her hand. “That doesn’t concern me. I have enough boarders that I can give up one room for a good cause.”
Lizbeth leaned back and blew out a breath. “That is wonderful. I can’t believe we accidentally met right outside the factory.” She smiled for the first time in a couple of hours. “I would be happy to take you up on your offer.”
“Excellent. I have a carriage I keep in the mews behind the house. When you are finished with your tea, we will go to your flat
and gather your things.”
“Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
Mrs. O’Leary merely smiled at her.
London, England
Mr. Marcus Mallory, member of the House of Commons and nephew of the Earl of Denbigh, slammed the handful of papers in his hand on his desk in frustration. He’d spent the entire morning trying to get votes in the House of Commons for his bill protecting women and children. It amazed him how something that should be so easy to garner support for continued to flounder. A similar bill had passed the House of Lords twice, but always died in the House of Commons.
Disgusted with the members of Parliament, he strode from the building and made his way to White’s, his favorite gentlemen’s club. Maybe, just maybe, there would be a few friends not involved in Parliament to discuss other matters before he had to dress for the Atkinsons’ ball later.
He took a seat and waved the footman over to bring him a bottle of brandy. As much as he hated attending social events where the mamas of young daughters searched the room like hungry vultures, he had promised his mother he would attend at least two affairs a week.
