Lois Menzel Read Online Free Page B

Piccadilly.
     

Chapter 3
     
    Anne turned and walked the other way as Ruth Marsh and Victoria emerged from Asprey’s. Still rather shaken from her encounter with the unscrupulous shopkeeper, she listened with only half an ear to their chatter.
    Ruth smiled when she saw the package in Anne’s hands. “You did find something! I cannot wait to see.”
    Anne was eager to tell Ruth about her unusual experience in the milliner’s shop but did not wish Victoria to overhear. It was late that evening before she had an opportunity to relate it.
    “How fortunate that the gentleman happened to see you pay,” Ruth said.
    “And that he was willing to step forward and say so,” Anne added.
    “What would you have done if he had not been there?” Ruth asked curiously.
    “I don’t know. Never have I been accused of stealing! I was so bewildered. I could not believe she was speaking to me. If I had tried to take the package, I am certain she would have raised the alarm. Yet to pay a second time would have been to admit she was right—when she was not. It was an impossible situation.”
    “What was the gentleman’s appearance?” Ruth asked.
    “He was fair and quite tall, taller than my Uncle Hodder. I thought him amazingly handsome.” Remembering the coldness of the gentleman’s eyes as he challenged the shopkeeper, she added, “His eyes were most remarkable ... an uncommon blue, much like a deep lake in late summer.”
    When the topic of the handsome stranger had been exhausted, the two women unwrapped Anne’s purchases and planned how they would redecorate her dress.
    Once her gown had been refurbished, Anne began a series of employment interviews that had been arranged by her aunt. Of the four interviews she was granted, none was successful. Two prospective employers turned her away for lack of references, one said she was too young, another felt she was too old.
    At the end of the week, greatly discouraged, Anne was sitting in her room setting tiny stitches along what seemed to be the endless hem of a sheet when Ruth burst in.
    “Anne!” she exclaimed. “I have heard of a position. Or, I should say, Mrs. Crookshank has.”
    “My aunt’s cook?” Anne patted the cushion next to her on the small sofa. “Sit down,” she invited, instantly hopeful. “Tell me!”
    “It seems Mrs. Crookshank has a cousin who works as a parlor maid to Lord Tenbury. His lordship’s sister-in-law is seeking a governess for her daughter.”
    Anne’s face fell. “A governess! But we decided I could not—”
    “You could manage this,” Ruth interrupted. “The child is only eight, has barely left her nurse. You could easily teach her, for several years at least.”
    “How would I apply for the position?”
    “Mrs. Crookshank is planning to visit her cousin tomorrow. She said she would be willing to take a letter and pass it on to his lordship’s butler.”
    Anne promptly drafted a request for an interview and sent it with the cook the following day. Two days later she received an answer sent round from Grosvenor Square. When she saw the direction, her hopes faded; no resident of such a lofty address would hire a governess without references.
    The letter offered an appointment the following afternoon at two o’clock. She decided she would not go—could not go; then in the next instant asked herself what she had to lose. A little pride, perhaps. “This is no time to let pride control your life, Anne,” she could hear her father say.
     
    * * * *
     
    Lord Tenbury looked up from his morning paper as his secretary entered the study.
    “Excuse me, my lord. The agency has referred another applicant for the tutor’s position. I scheduled an appointment for this afternoon.”
    “Excellent, Raymond. But don’t bother to bring him to me if he is as addlepated as the last, or as old as the one before him. I am beginning to believe, as Mrs. Saunders does, that there is not a single qualified tutor in this town whom my nephew has not