to find her accommodation a little spartan, probably at the top of the house where the other servants lived, but that was not so. Lucy insisted on having her close to hand and Emma was given a room on the second floor, just along the corridor from Lucy’s suite of bedroom and sitting-room. It was large and well-furnished though, like the rest of the house, a little shabby. She didn’t mind that; it made it all the more cosy.
She also discovered she was not to eat in the kitchen but with the family, as well as to go out and about everywhere with her charge, even when his lordship himself was to be in attendance, which he was during the first few days. It did nothing for her peace of mind to have him in such close proximity but she supposed it was only natural that he would wish to satisfy himself that his beloved sister was in good hands and that he need have no qualms about his new employee.
He was always elegantly, though not extravagantly dressed, always courteous and good-natured, but he never gave the impression of weakness. Physically he was a powerful man with a temperament to match; he knew what he wanted and was determined to have it, while remaining fair to everyone from his sister down to the potboy in the kitchen. Emma did not need to be told that his servants respected and loved him; it showed itself in their cheerful willingness to do the work allotted to them.
He could also be implacable and she made up her mind she would do her utmost not to put him to the test. So she studied her book of etiquette and borrowed others from the library, learned how to dress her charge for every given occasion, to mend her clothes and arrange her hair, so that he would have no cause for complaint.
If he ever found out the reference she had given him was a forgery…no, not a forgery exactly but written to deceive, she would be bundled out of the house in minutes, and without a character. She had not been long at Bedford Row before she discovered exactly what that unpleasant phrase meant, when she learned that one of the kitchen maids had recently been turned off for impertinence to a guest.
‘I’m sure I don’t blame her,’ Lucy told Emma. They were eating en famille and Lucy had been beguiling her with tales of recent happenings. ‘Lady Clarence is insufferably top-lofty and to complain the soup was cold when she had let it sit in front of her a full ten minutes while she bored everyone with the tale of how her bran-faced daughter had engaged the attention of the Prince Regent, which I, for one, do not credit, was too much. I had as lief sent her off without her dinner as punish poor Rose.’
‘Rudeness is something I will not tolerate,’ Dominic put in mildly. ‘Not even when it appears justified. If I had not acted at once, it would have been the talk of the ton that I am unable to control my servants. And from that it would be a short step to saying the whole household is dissolute. What do you suppose that would do for your come-out and your chances of marriage?’
Lucy conceded that he might be right, but the unfairness rankled. ‘I should hope you will wait until the fuss has died down and re-engage her,’ she said, to which Dominic laughed and said she must leave justice to him, an enigmatic answer which convinced Emma more than ever that he must not find out that she had lied to him. The very thought of it made her go hot with shame.
A dozen times a day she had to tell herself that her deception was a necessary evil which would end as soon as the unfairness of her father’s exile was proved, though how that was to be done, she had no idea. Teddy had said that being given employment in Newmarket, close to the Mountforest family home, had been the hand of fate. He would soon uncover the truth and clear their father’s name. Once that was done their uncle would have to acknowledge them and provide them with whatever legacy had been due to their father.
When that happened, she would be able to tell Lord Besthorpe the truth. It was important to her that he should understand and forgive. Very important. She needed his good opinion of her. Already he occupied a tight little corner in her heart, though she would never have admitted it to anyone but her own secret self. At the moment she was content just to be in his house, seeing him, talking to him, looking after his sister.
Lucy herself was a delight. Although anxious to please, she was far from a milksop, having very decided views on a great many subjects and often so determined to have her own way, she came head to head with her brother. It was never acrimonious and very soon one or the other would give way or a compromise would be reached which satisfied them both.
Emma stayed on the sidelines during these exchanges, watching with amusement and marvelling at the way each thought they were manipulating the other, saying nothing unless appealed to and then choosing her words with care.
‘Oh, he can be so pompous when he chooses,’ Lucy said one day when the two young ladies were sitting over some crewel work in Lucy’s sitting-room. ‘I did so want to go to Madame Tussaud’s today. And I want to show you the town.’
‘But his lordship is otherwise engaged, Lucy, and we have no escort.’
‘Pooh to that. We can escort each other. What harm can we come to? There will be plenty of people about. And if Dominic would only allow us to take the carriage, we would have Nobbs to protect us.’
‘That is not the same thing and you know it.’
Lucy put her sewing down in exasperation. ‘What did your previous employer do when she wanted to go out? I’ll lay a guinea to a groat she took you for company and didn’t wait for her brother to accompany her.’
Emma laughed, though she had a twinge of conscience every time her past was mentioned. ‘No, her brother was a schoolboy. And it was different in India.’
‘How? Were there no villains?’
‘There were as many there as in England, I do not doubt, but that is nothing to the point. His lordship has taken the carriage, as well you know, and he has made his wishes very clear. I am afraid, this time, you must own yourself defeated, unless you want him to call me to account for allowing you to disobey him. He would very likely dismiss me.’
‘Oh, no, dear Emma, I could not bear that,’ Lucy said. ‘But I am tired of sewing and it is such a lovely day.’
This was perfectly true. Emma was beginning to revise her first impressions of England as a cold, dismal place. The sky was a pale blue laced with fleecy white clouds; the atmosphere, while not warm, was balmy and the trees, no longer soot-laden, were bursting forth in a delicate pale green. Lucy was right; it was a day for being out of doors.
‘Then let us walk in the park instead,’ she said. ‘I can see no harm in that.’
Fifteen minutes later they were entering Hyde Park by the Stanhope Gate. Lucy was becomingly clad in a lilac sarcenet walking dress with a matching pelisse in a darker tone of the same colour. Her chip bonnet was trimmed with violets and tied beneath one ear with velvet ribbon. She was charmingly attractive and openly enjoyed the looks of admiration she received while not being in the least conceited.
Beneath her green pelisse Emma wore the green and cream striped round gown she had purchased at the Pantheon and which she had been saving for just such an occasion. Her cottager hat, bought because it would be easy to change its decoration and even its shape to make it look different every time she wore it, was on this occasion trimmed with coloured ribbons in shades of green, cream and buff. It was neat and tidy rather than elegant and she tried very hard not to be envious of her companion; if it were not for Lucy she might be in very much worse straits. That her antecedents were as high as Lucy’s must not be allowed to count.
Arm in arm, they proceeded down the path, with Lucy smiling and greeting every other person they met, including the redoubtable Lady Clarence who was bowling by in a barouche, clad in a purple satin outfit and a matching turban covered in sweeping green feathers. Seeing the two girls, she called out to her driver to stop the carriage. When it had come to a halt, her ladyship lifted her quizzing glass to peer at them both, as if wanting to make quite sure her eyes were not deceiving her.
Lucy curtsied. ‘Good afternoon, Lady Clarence,’ she said. ‘May I present Miss Emma Woodhill who has lately come to stay with us. Emma, this is Lady Clarence.’
Emma was subjected to a minute scrutiny, during which she felt as transparent as glass,