A Pearl for My Mistress

And did.

These short-term contracts she secured now were too unsure as a base (although they still brought her more than any allowance would, and it weakened the pull of the lead just a little). But if she proved herself – and, once again, if she played her cards right – they might as well lead to something more. An editor’s post in some small publication, for example, with a stable position and a stable income to match. Of course, it would most likely be some women’s magazine; she would have to write about garden parties and frocks all her life. But it was still much sweeter than the alternative.

The sound of hurried footsteps snapped her out of this reverie.

‘There’s a call for you, my lady,’ Blake said, clearly nervous. Had she ever used a telephone before? Lucy doubted it. ‘Mr Chesterton says he wishes to speak with you as soon as possible.’

Lucy rose to her feet sharply, all dreaminess forgotten.

‘Thank you, Blake.’

She almost had to restrain herself from running to the telephone. The maid followed her with unsure footsteps, her gaze tinted with concern.

Such a peculiar creature she was, this Blake. No, Lucy corrected herself, this had nothing to do with Blake herself; the situation itself was peculiar. She could never have guessed that their strained finances would allow her a maid of her own. That sale of outlying portions must have gone really well.

Outlying portions. The unused land on the margins of the estate. Disposing of it was all about rationalization and consolidation, as any struggling landowner would tell you; it had absolutely nothing to do with financial need.

Not for the first time, Lucy couldn’t help but marvel at the power of carefully chosen words. How well they could hide any unpleasant necessity under a cloak of respectability!

‘Mr Chesterton?’ Lucy asked breathlessly, finally clutching the telephone ‘candle’ in her hand. She was almost afraid he would somehow get tired of waiting and hang up. ‘Yes, that’s me.’ She winced at the reply. ‘I … I understand, yes. I am truly sorry for the delay. I absolutely had to find these numbers … The article will be ready in the next few hours. I will send it by the express post. It will be on your table tomorrow …’ She let out a breath. ‘Thank you for your understanding, Mr Chesterton. Me? Not, I am not nervous. What?’

For heaven’s sake, this telephone must have been installed before the Great War.

‘Thank you! I wish you a pleasant afternoon. A PLEA-SANT AFTER-NOON!’

Blake was waiting for her outside the room, a worried expression on her soft face. ‘Did everything go well, my lady?’ she enquired cautiously.

Lucy couldn’t help but smile. Poor girl, she really was concerned for her!

‘Yes, it was … Oh, never mind. It was just a little difficulty. If Mr Chesterton calls here in the future, or sends a telegram, or leaves any message at all, you will have to alert me immediately. It has to do …’ Lucy hesitated. Should she or shouldn’t she?

No. Blake might be sweet, but there were things she didn’t have to know.

‘It has to do with my work,’ she said finally. ‘Very important work.’

‘Of course, my lady.’

Lucy nodded briefly.

She would have thought her mother would find someone older and sterner to guard her virtue. But then, someone older and sterner would most likely ask for more money …

Guarding her virtue was, after all, the whole purpose. The events of the last Season must have convinced Her Ladyship that Lucy clearly needed someone to keep an eye on her conduct, especially when they were among the perils and temptations of the city.

The young woman walked back to the library as briskly as she could. She had already lost enough time daydreaming and battling with the veteran telephone. It was time to get to work.

Lucy replaced the sheet of paper in her typewriter. The old page, rippling with fresh black letters, now lay safely to her right. Now, the duty out of her way, she could finally approach the task she really wanted to do …

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