More Than a Mistress by Ann Lethbridge Page B

herself respectably, she would never get her child back from the orphanage. ‘He’s got a sign in the winder for a shop assistant.’
    No one in Skepton seemed willing to risk employing Draycott’s whores, no matter how clean they were or how well behaved. The townspeople claimed they would be a bad influence on the men as well as the women.
    Merry pressed her lips together. ‘I told him of your experience, but he said he’d changed his mind.’ She’d even threatened to stop purchasing from him, but then he told her his fear of the mob tearing his shop apart. What could she say?
    Jane’s lip curled. ‘See. I told you it was all a farradiddle.’
    ‘They think we’ll steal them blind,’ Beth said.
    It was an outbreak of burglaries that had turned the townspeople violent, even after Caro told the constable she could account for all her girls at the time of the crimes.
    ‘I’m leaving at the end of t’month,’ Jane said. ‘There’s good money to be made in London. Abbesses always looking for new blood. Once the weather breaks, I can walk there in a fortnight.’
    ‘How much does a girl make in Lunnon?’ Beth asked.
    ‘A fortune if you finds the right man,’ Jane said. ‘Dripping with jewels and furs, some of the girls are.’
    Beth’s eyes grew round.
    ‘It is not quite like that,’ Caro said. ‘Very few girls meet that kind of man. And often they cast them off, the way they throw out old clothes.’
    ‘What would you know about it?’ Jane sneered.
    Caroline coloured. ‘I have eyes.’
    Merry didn’t care much for Jane. Gribble had found her slipping a silver teaspoon in her pocket. Caro had reminded her that she might have done the same, if she had been in Jane’s situation.
    Damn it. If Merry didn’t do something soon, these two women would slip back into their old ways.
    A feeling of inadequacy swamped her. Grandfather would have been able to deal with the mill owners and the shopkeepers. He wouldn’t have been locked out of the meeting.
    Because he was a man.
    If only Prentice would stand up to them.
    As a manager, Prentice had very little clout. He could speak on her behalf, but even though he was the manager of the largest mill in Yorkshire, he wasn’t the owner.
    The only way she would ever have a voice in those meetings was if she was married. And then that voice would go to her husband.
    Which brought her right back to the mad idea she’d had this morning—and rejected before it was fully formed. How she could have let such an idea creep into her mind, she didn’t know.
    ‘I’ll find a way to bring them around,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry.’ But how?

    Merry squeezed her eyes shut, then looked at the document, forcing herself to read the figures again. The mill was in trouble.
    How had it happened so quickly?
    The door opened and Caro glided in as if she walked on air. Even on a good day, Merry galumphed around, as Grandfather always said.
    But then Caro was as small and delicate as Merry was tall and big boned.
    She smiled at her friend. ‘Lessons over?’
    ‘Yes. I’ve left them with some needlework. There are sheets in need of turning.’
    ‘They really don’t have to work for their board, you know.’
    ‘I know.’ Caro clasped her hands together. ‘But it does them good to keep occupied as well as giving them a feeling of worth. They are not bad women. Only misguided.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Although I’m a bit worried about Jane. I think she’d sell her grandmother for a shilling.’
    ‘Probably less.’
    They laughed.
    ‘How soon can we rebuild the house?’ Caroline asked. ‘Is it possible?’
    ‘Not until the snow clears, I’m afraid.’
    ‘I suppose Mr Prentice did his best?’ Caro sounded doubtful.
    ‘I’m sure he did. Although he doesn’t feel as strongly about finding the girls work as we do, he has always followed my instructions.’
    ‘As far as you know.’
    ‘Your biases are showing.’
    ‘He’s too nice. Too friendly.’
    Merry sighed.