Read Online Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) by Maureen Driscoll - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maureen Driscoll
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who’ve come to hear you
speak, though not as many as were here a half hour ago. Some had to get back
to work.”
Mel inwardly cursed the meddling nature of lords who
kissed well but thought altogether too highly of themselves. “I am sorry I was
not here earlier, but was unavoidably detained. I shall meet with the
remaining women straight away. Might there be any tea?”
“Of course there is,” said Mrs. Cartwright. “I also
tried my hand at scones. I’m getting right good at it, if I do say so. I’ll
fetch some now.”
Mrs. Cartwright seemed to gain confidence with every
accomplishment. Mel had only known her a few months, but the woman had
blossomed even in such a short time. She still kept to the house unless it was
absolutely necessary to leave. But she believed in her abilities more and
more. It was heartening to see.
Mel walked through the narrow hallway with the
Persian runner that had seen better days. Everything in the house was clean
but old, verging on threadbare. Mitchell House had some funds to refurbish it,
but never enough to do everything that needed to be done. Mel contributed as
much money as she was able, but even she had limits. Her inheritance was
substantial, but since she was a minor her uncle had control of it. He was
generous with her quarterly allowance and would give her advances if she
requested them. But if she asked for too much money, he would have questions.
And they were the type she couldn’t provide answers for that her aunt and uncle
would approve of, regardless of how good they were to her.
Mel entered the sitting room and tried not to let
her disappointment show. Only four women were there and she’d been hoping to
see more than three times that number. Nevertheless, she smiled and greeted
each of them.
Sonia Kinne was originally from Spain and had been
orphaned by the peninsular war. Well-meaning relief workers had sent the girl
to England at the age of thirteen. Lindella Dupuis spoke with a French accent
by way of Cornwall. She and Sonia worked and lived at Madame Thurmond’s.
Angela Evans and Lydia Robinson were boarders at
Mitchell House. Angela was an opera dancer at one of the Covent Garden
theaters. Lydia was in the early stages of working as a courtesan. Neither of
the two lovers she’d had so far had been able to set her up in a house but she
still held out hope she might luck into such a situation.
Anne brought in the tea and the women began the familiar
ritual. The cups did not match, but the tea was fragrant and the women all
complimented Anne on her scones. The scene might have taken place in any
sitting room in Mayfair, save the topic they were about to discuss.
Mel knew the women had only limited time to be away
from work, so she began. “I have good news. My friend Mr. Parker has the
funds to transport four women to Philadelphia. His friend Captain Clinch’s ship
has not yet arrived, but four women could be on their way to new lives in as
little as two weeks.”
As she expected, her announcement wasn’t met with
cheers or requests to be one of the four. Sonia and Lindella looked at each
other nervously. Lydia frowned and Angela ate a third scone.
“Do you have a question, Lydia?”
“I know you said some of the other girls who went to
America married. How rich was those gen’lemen? Do they live in a big house
and have lots of servants?”
With Lydia, it was always some variation of that
question. Mel knew it was the result of having grown up in poverty and living
hand-to-mouth in the present. “Well, no,” honesty required her to reply. “At
least not right now. Most of the women who marry are on their way to the
frontier. They’ll work alongside their husband and build a farm or a ranch or
maybe even manage a store. It’s the chance to start over again.”
“Don’t they have them savages on the frontier?”
asked Lindella with a shiver. “I
speak, though not as many as were here a half hour ago. Some had to get back
to work.”
Mel inwardly cursed the meddling nature of lords who
kissed well but thought altogether too highly of themselves. “I am sorry I was
not here earlier, but was unavoidably detained. I shall meet with the
remaining women straight away. Might there be any tea?”
“Of course there is,” said Mrs. Cartwright. “I also
tried my hand at scones. I’m getting right good at it, if I do say so. I’ll
fetch some now.”
Mrs. Cartwright seemed to gain confidence with every
accomplishment. Mel had only known her a few months, but the woman had
blossomed even in such a short time. She still kept to the house unless it was
absolutely necessary to leave. But she believed in her abilities more and
more. It was heartening to see.
Mel walked through the narrow hallway with the
Persian runner that had seen better days. Everything in the house was clean
but old, verging on threadbare. Mitchell House had some funds to refurbish it,
but never enough to do everything that needed to be done. Mel contributed as
much money as she was able, but even she had limits. Her inheritance was
substantial, but since she was a minor her uncle had control of it. He was
generous with her quarterly allowance and would give her advances if she
requested them. But if she asked for too much money, he would have questions.
And they were the type she couldn’t provide answers for that her aunt and uncle
would approve of, regardless of how good they were to her.
Mel entered the sitting room and tried not to let
her disappointment show. Only four women were there and she’d been hoping to
see more than three times that number. Nevertheless, she smiled and greeted
each of them.
Sonia Kinne was originally from Spain and had been
orphaned by the peninsular war. Well-meaning relief workers had sent the girl
to England at the age of thirteen. Lindella Dupuis spoke with a French accent
by way of Cornwall. She and Sonia worked and lived at Madame Thurmond’s.
Angela Evans and Lydia Robinson were boarders at
Mitchell House. Angela was an opera dancer at one of the Covent Garden
theaters. Lydia was in the early stages of working as a courtesan. Neither of
the two lovers she’d had so far had been able to set her up in a house but she
still held out hope she might luck into such a situation.
Anne brought in the tea and the women began the familiar
ritual. The cups did not match, but the tea was fragrant and the women all
complimented Anne on her scones. The scene might have taken place in any
sitting room in Mayfair, save the topic they were about to discuss.
Mel knew the women had only limited time to be away
from work, so she began. “I have good news. My friend Mr. Parker has the
funds to transport four women to Philadelphia. His friend Captain Clinch’s ship
has not yet arrived, but four women could be on their way to new lives in as
little as two weeks.”
As she expected, her announcement wasn’t met with
cheers or requests to be one of the four. Sonia and Lindella looked at each
other nervously. Lydia frowned and Angela ate a third scone.
“Do you have a question, Lydia?”
“I know you said some of the other girls who went to
America married. How rich was those gen’lemen? Do they live in a big house
and have lots of servants?”
With Lydia, it was always some variation of that
question. Mel knew it was the result of having grown up in poverty and living
hand-to-mouth in the present. “Well, no,” honesty required her to reply. “At
least not right now. Most of the women who marry are on their way to the
frontier. They’ll work alongside their husband and build a farm or a ranch or
maybe even manage a store. It’s the chance to start over again.”
“Don’t they have them savages on the frontier?”
asked Lindella with a shiver. “I
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