Aunt Jessica was waiting for her when she returned, sitting on the sofa in her black-and-white-striped gown. ‘Where have you been, Rosamund?’ she demanded. ‘And in that shabby garb. You look like a street seller.’
As that was the look Rosamund had hoped to achieve when she set out for Covent Garden, she did not comment. ‘I had business to see to,’ she said, throwing her hat on the stool by the escritoire. ‘The furniture has to be sold, you know.’
‘Yes, I do know and I am glad to see you are getting on with it.’
‘I have no choice, have I?’
‘No. I have spoken to Lady Bonhaven. She is willing to give you a trial and I have arranged for you and me to go and see her tomorrow.’
‘Aunt, you are beforehand. I have not said that I wish to be the lady’s companion.’
‘Wish!’ exclaimed the good lady. ‘Wishes do not come into it, do they? We could wish for the moon, but that does not mean we should have it. Beggars cannot be choosers.’
The barb hurt, but she would not let her aunt see that it did. ‘What happened to her ladyship’s previous companion?’
‘I believe she proved untrustworthy. I do not know the details. No doubt we shall learn them when we visit.’
There being nothing to stay for, the lady left, in the sure knowledge that her niece would comply. Rosamund flung herself on the sofa and forced herself to consider the prospect. She would have to go and see the lady because her aunt had arranged it, but that did not mean she would agree. She sighed heavily as Janet came into the room to tell her nuncheon was ready on the kitchen table. She rose and followed the maid, giving a wry smile to think of what her father would say to her taking her meals in the kitchen with the only two remaining servants. She had certainly come down in the world since her mother’s death. Once they had had a house full of servants, a carriage and horses, riding horses, grooms and stable boys. And friends, a great many friends. They were always visiting and being visited.
It was a great pity her father had not been able to deal with the loss of his wife and discouraged callers so that in the end they ceased to come. He had withdrawn into himself, spent most of his time at gambling and drinking clubs and only came home to sleep, treating Rosamund like the housekeeper she soon became. She had worried about him, even nagged him a little, but that only made him angry for daring to criticise him, but she still loved him, remembering the happy, loving father he had once been and making excuses for him. His sudden and violent death had been a great blow to her. But she could not mourn him as she ought because her own situation kept getting in the way.
All three ate their frugal meal in silence. There was nothing to say. Janet and Cook had been given notice and were as worried as she was. She felt guilty about them too, but there was nothing she could do to help them. She could not even help herself.
Afterwards she went back to the household accounts. She was sitting at her desk, trying to make sense of her father’s muddled papers when her brother arrived. He was dressed in his black-and-silver mourning suit, which had obviously been crafted by one of London’s best tailors, and a powdered white wig. He swept off his tricorne hat and advanced into the room.
‘You are just the person to help me sort these out,’ she said, indicating a pile of bills. ‘I must put them in order of priority, in case there is not enough to pay them all.’
‘Gambling debts first and foremost,’ he said at once. ‘They are debts of honour and must be paid. You can leave the tailor’s bills; Father will not need his services again. Likewise the farrier, since I have sold his riding horse.’
‘What have you done with the money from that?’
‘Paid the funeral expenses.’
‘Oh. And the bag of counterfeit guineas? Have you handed it in?’
‘No, I told you that would be risky. I have hidden it.’ He took the papers out of her hand and laid them on the desk. ‘Come on, leave those, I will deal with them later. Let us go for a stroll.’
‘A stroll?’ she queried in surprise.
‘Yes, you have been indoors too long, you are looking pale. A little exercise and fresh air will be good for you.’
‘You have never taken me out walking before. And surely if you want to have a walk you should take Charlotte and the children?’
‘Charlotte has taken them to picnic in Hampstead.’
‘Why did you not go with them?’
‘Because I had business in town and I was concerned for you. Now, put on your hat and let us go to Green Park. That is where you like to walk, is it not?’
Mystified by a sudden interest in her welfare, which was not typical of him, she rose and went up to her room to throw a light shawl over her shoulders and put a hat on her own curls. She did not change her dress, having only one black gown, which would have to do until she could afford to buy another. She hated black; it ill became her, but short of defying protocol she was stuck with it.
They set off across the Oxford Road and down Tyburn Lane towards Green Park, which was not so crowded as Hyde Park and had some pleasant paths and little copses of trees. ‘Have you decided to take up Lady Bonhaven’s offer?’ he asked her, as they walked.
‘Not yet. I am expected to visit her tomorrow with Aunt Jessica, but I wish there were an alternative. Her ladyship is known as a difficult employer. I have discovered from Janet that she has had three companions in as many years. I am unlikely to please her for long.’
‘Far be it from me to shirk my duty to my sister and I would see you settled. If you cannot bear to accept her ladyship’s offer, you may live with Charlotte and me, but I cannot afford more than a little pin money.’
‘I know,’ she said, wondering how much his suit and wig had cost. And the mourning gown Charlotte had been wearing when she last saw her had at least fifteen yards of silk in it and was heavily embroidered with mother-of-pearl. He did not stint on their wardrobes.
‘Would you marry if you could?’ he asked.
‘Now you are being silly.’
They entered the park and were strolling along the path which led to The Mall, when they met two gentlemen walking towards them. One was rugged looking in a dark blue coat and white small clothes, the other, clearly a fop, was in a suit of peach-and-cream satin, a peach brocade waistcoat and cream small clothes. Rosamund would have passed them, but they were evidently known to Max, because he stopped and swept them an elegant bow. ‘Gentlemen, your obedient. May I present my sister, Miss Rosamund Chalmers. Rosie, this is Lord Portman and Sir Ashley Saunders.’ He indicated each in turn.
They swept off their hats and bowed to her. ‘Madam, your obedient.’
She curtsied. ‘Gentlemen.’
‘May I offer condolences on your bereavement?’ Ash said.
‘Thank you.’
‘We are out for a stroll,’ Max said. ‘Shall we walk together?’
The two turned and Ash contrived to skip around
