could tell she actually was sorry, unlike so many others that mouthed the words while secretly relishing the downfall of a peer. It was one more reason she counted Beatrice Pullington a true friend.
When Elizabeth had arrived on Bea’s doorstep the night before, fully packed valise in hand, she’d been welcomed without question. Bea had installed her in a comfortable guestroom and seen to her every need, and Elizabeth had succumbed to exhaustion after her turmoil-filled day.
Now it was midmorning, and the two women relaxed in the small salon of Bea’s town house while they batted about ideas for Elizabeth’s future.
“It isn’t just that. My mother’s brother, Uncle George, is head of the family now. He’s insisting he can’t support all of us, and he’s going to marry me off to my single remaining prospect—Harold Wetherby.”
“Wetherby.” Bea wrinkled her nose, cocked her head in thought. “I don’t know him.”
“Not personally. He’s some sort of remote cousin of my mother’s. He doesn’t move in the higher circles. But I’ve told you about him, Bea.”
Slowly, Bea’s eyes widened with understanding. “That Wetherby? The one from that picnic, the one who—”
“The same.”
“No,” Bea said weakly, reaching for her tea and taking a fortifying sip.
“I’m not going back. I’d sooner work for a living.”
“Doing what?”
“That’s the problem. I thought maybe I could be a seamstress.”
“A seamstress?” Bea looked doubtful.
“I’m good with a needle,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, but E., the best modistes will want references, and you’ll have none. You wouldn’t want to work for the sort that would hire you without a reference.” Bea poured a fresh cup of tea for each of them and offered Elizabeth a plate of biscuits.
The lack of references was a dilemma Elizabeth hadn’t anticipated. “What do you suggest? There are few ways a woman can earn a living and remain anonymous.”
“Sadly true. I know a woman who earns her living writing books…”
“I’ve no head for that, Bea. And, besides, it would take too long. I need something soon.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. It’s no hardship.”
“I know, and I do thank you for it. I don’t know where I’d have gone if not here. But I can’t stay in hiding forever, and I’d just as soon move on. Whatever work I find, it must be somewhere my uncle won’t think to look for me.”
Leaving the safe haven of Bea’s house would be difficult, especially knowing that whatever life held for her next, it was unlikely to even remotely resemble the life she’d known before her father died. What line of work was appropriate for the runaway daughter of a disgraced, deceased baron?
“I could be a governess,” Elizabeth suggested.
“Truly? A governess?” Bea made a face. Her own marriage had not been fruitful. “Caring for someone else’s children? What if they’re spoiled or unruly?”
“Oh, Bea. I love children.”
“But E., do you think you’ve the disposition for being a governess? It’s just, you’re a bit headstrong—though I love you for it—and I think that sort of thing is frowned upon in governesses.”
“I’m sure I can overcome that. I haven’t the luxury of getting into scrapes anymore,” Elizabeth replied. “But I would probably have the same problem in getting references.”
“Very likely. If a seamstress must have references, imagine what—wait! I know just the person who might take you on. She may recognize you, but she’s a kind soul, and I overheard someone at a tea the other day saying she was looking to hire a governess. She lives in the country, so you’re less likely to be seen.”
“Who?”
“The Viscountess Grumsby.”
“Grumsby, Grumsby…” Elizabeth thought aloud, trying to place the name. “The Duke of Beaufort’s sister. Alex Bainbridge’s sister. I couldn’t possibly!”
“E., I know you had a tendre for him, but now that nothing’s come of that, I fail to see the problem.”
“It isn’t just that.” Miserably, Elizabeth relayed the details of her most recent encounter with the duke.
“My.” Bea took another fortifying sip of tea, then grinned. “That was daring. Did I say before that you were a bit headstrong? I believe I misspoke. You’re not a bit headstrong, you are entirely so!”
Elizabeth’s cheeks heated, but she smiled back.
“Though, really, you’re in the same place now as you would have been if he’d agreed,” Bea continued. “A bit uncomfortable if he happens to visit, of course, but no reason you can’t stay mostly out of sight.”
True. Only, if he had agreed, Elizabeth thought, she’d have been able to live out her dreams before descending to the lower rungs of Society’s ladder.
“At any rate,” Bea said, “it’s worth a try. As I said, Lady Grumsby lives in the country most of the time, which will protect you from most prying eyes.”
“But what if Alex has told her about me?”
“Unlikely. If he wasn’t willing to have his name bandied about with yours in scandal, why would he say anything?” Bea airily waved a hand. “He’s probably forgotten it entirely.”
Elizabeth wasn’t so sure about that, but as she could think of no better option, and the thought of leaving town for a while held a certain appeal, she agreed to the plan.
Within hours, Beatrice sent a message to Lady Grumsby. In the letter Bea gave Elizabeth her full endorsement for the position, though, as she confided, “I may not be the best of references, having never hired a governess myself.”
Since it was possible Lady Grumsby would recognize her anyway, Elizabeth agreed with Bea’s recommendation that she not use a false name. She just prayed her mother wouldn’t find out. Lady Medford took her noble status quite seriously.
The next few days were spent anxiously awaiting a response. As she could hardly stroll about the streets of London without being seen, Elizabeth kept to the house. Bea had more freedom, and, with Charity’s help, managed to retrieve two of Elizabeth’s plainest frocks from the Medford home. They’d already been dyed gray for the half-mourning period following her father’s death.
“If you’re to work as a governess, you must look the part,” Bea said as she helped remove the white lace that gave the gowns their only fashionable touch. “Word of your disappearance hasn’t yet leaked to the ton. Your sister tells me the family’s keeping it a secret, hoping to find you first and make the
