An Improper Companion Read Online Free

not understand her enmity. Did she feel I was encroaching? And could this alone account for her dislike? It never occurred to me that she knew or cared about my new position and that this was the basis for her disapproval. After dinner, Mademoiselle asked me to stay behind. When the others had gone back to their work, she asked if I could sew. I replied that I could. Well? Again I said yes. She seemed pleased. “Bon. There is much to do and if you could help with hems...”
    I smiled and answered truthfully, “It would please me to have a task.”
    She hesitated. “Child, are you certain you wish to be this companion? I could perhaps find work for you here.”
    It was meant kindly, but pride made me stand straight and calmly reply, “It is what I wish.”
    She sighed. “I felt you would speak so. But, if later ... come here and I will help you.”
    I thanked her stiffly and followed her to the workroom where she gave me the primrose dress to hem. I hoped that Mademoiselle understood. It was not that I disliked sewing; indeed, often when I wished to relax at school I turned to my needle. Nor did I feel it would be beneath me to be a seamstress. Had I been unable to find other work, I would have joined the profession cheerfully. Rather, it was a need to prove myself. What value in finding a position only to throw it over for another before the first is even begun? Mr. Thornsby would have rightly felt me to be a gadfly. And yet I will not say that as I worked among the laughing seamstresses, I felt no call to linger here. I liked the women I had met at Mademoiselle Suzette’s establishment. Of Sir Leslie I knew nothing save that he lived in a castle and had need of a companion for some woman of his family. Yes, I felt an urge to stay, but I will not deceive myself: it was no premonition. I felt far removed from the schoolroom as I fell asleep that night.

 
    Chapter 2
    We were at the posting house, Mr. Thornsby and I, with the trunk which now contained my new clothes and the bag I had brought with me from the school. It was a sunny morning with a slight breeze that sang through the city. Even dour tradesmen seemed to smile more than was their wont. I felt competent and sure of myself and was conscious that now I had a sense of purpose. Mr. Thornsby, however, did not share the mood of the city. He seemed, to my surprise, sharp-set. As we waited he repeated his instructions for the eighth time. “You are to give the letter of introduction to Sir Leslie’s housekeeper and she will be sure he receives it. You have the letter? Are you certain? Let me see. Good. Now then, you will arrive too late for an interview with Sir Leslie this evening, but you are expected. Tomorrow, no doubt, Sir Leslie will explain all your duties to you. I trust you will try to provide satisfaction. I wish I could be sure ... but you will remember that you wanted this position badly, regardless of how unusual it might be?”
    I assured Mr. Thornsby that he should hear no complaints from me and none from Sir Leslie if it were in my power to prevent it. The next moment the mail coach arrived, and Mr. Thornsby had no opportunity to plague me further with instructions or questions. The last vision I have of the courtyard is Mr. Thornsby’s anxious face. I wondered if he were so fatherly with all the young women who passed through his agency.
    My only regret, that morning, was that travel was by mail and not chaise and four. (I had had little experience with either save rare occasions when a school friend had taken me home with her for a visit to the country. But the jolting of carriages I recalled could have been no worse than this.) I was soon feeling too uncomfortable to interest myself with the scenery. Particularly as one of the women in the coach was finding it impossible to soothe her infant. I do not know how many miles we travelled, but it was well past nightfall when my stop was announced. With a sense of relief, I stepped onto the ground. The