the French government some years ago, which no doubt accounts for her being a favorite of Napoleon’s.”
One of the few items of common knowledge regarding Madame was that Napoleon particularly despised her. I had to wonder if Mrs. Speers had bestowed these gems of misinformation on Lord Paton.
“Are you writing anything else for Arthur at the moment?” Annie inquired.
“Now that he has found someone to replace me, I am able to concentrate all my efforts on Anne Louise’s story. Age is getting the better of me, and I limit myself to one work at a time. Such a relief that Arthur has managed to find a genteel young lady to fill the gap. Some of his writers are just a trifle common, I fear. Young Millie, par example, did not return home last night.”
She nodded her head wisely. “I’d swear on a Bible she had a gent clambering up a ladder into her room the night before, though they were quiet about it once they hopped into bed. I won’t have that sort of carry-on in my house. Damned if I will. Don’t you agree, Miss Nisbitt?”
“I’m sure you are mistaken in her character, Mrs. Speers,” I said. “Millie mentioned she was going to visit her sister yesterday. No doubt she remained overnight.”
“And no doubt her sister—if she has one—was rattling up the ladder at midnight the night before.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
She simpered knowingly. “It is so refreshing to have a real lady to talk to. You never suspect ill of anyone, Miss Nisbitt, even when it is staring you in the face. I’m sure it is no odds to me who the trollop amuses herself with, so long as she pays up regular and doesn’t land a squawling brat in on us. And now I must return to my work. Thank you for the tea, it was lovely, as usual. A new tea set, I believe?”
The heavy crockery had been replaced, along with the addition of a few other refinements, to the detriment of our savings.
“Yes, do you like it?”
“Very genteel, I’m sure. If you’re not using the old one, I’ll just get it out of your way. I have picked up a rooming house in London, and am busy furnishing it.”
Annie and I exchanged an astonished glance. “The gothics,” she explained. “They are still selling as fast as kippers on the street corner. One reads of their demise from time to time, but great literature always endures, don’t you agree, Miss Nisbitt?”
I smiled pleasantly, and made a mental note to step up the pace on my own gothic. In order to catch the right, profitable tone, I borrowed a few of Mrs. Speers’s novels. Outwriting her did not appear to pose a problem. I could invent a gloomy mansion bordered by ancient yews, and a heroine prone to swooning at the slightest provocation as well as the next one. It was the heroine herself that upset me. Could any female really be so foolish as to believe in ghosts? Was sitting around, swooning, the only course of action to occur to her? Such a woman deserved her fate. Yet this was what allowed Mrs. Speers to buy up a rooming house with as little care for the expense as buying a new pair of stockings.
In the above manner we settled into our new life. At times we, probably Annie more than I, felt the loss of what we had left behind. On rainy days, of which there were many as September drew to a close, we felt like badgers in their sett in our shabby little rooms. But Annie had Arthur, I had my career, and we both had the satisfaction of independence.
We also had a flurry of letters from Geoffrey Nesbitt. The first contained an apology, in case he had unintentionally done anything to cause offense, and enquired in polite but stiff words how long we planned to remain in Bath. Our friends were pestering him for information, and he felt uncomfortable having to put them off for so long. Annie had written to him, giving our address. I wrote a reply, stiffer still than his own, ignoring any reference to having taken offense at the theft of my fortune, and informing him that it was not my
One of the few items of common knowledge regarding Madame was that Napoleon particularly despised her. I had to wonder if Mrs. Speers had bestowed these gems of misinformation on Lord Paton.
“Are you writing anything else for Arthur at the moment?” Annie inquired.
“Now that he has found someone to replace me, I am able to concentrate all my efforts on Anne Louise’s story. Age is getting the better of me, and I limit myself to one work at a time. Such a relief that Arthur has managed to find a genteel young lady to fill the gap. Some of his writers are just a trifle common, I fear. Young Millie, par example, did not return home last night.”
She nodded her head wisely. “I’d swear on a Bible she had a gent clambering up a ladder into her room the night before, though they were quiet about it once they hopped into bed. I won’t have that sort of carry-on in my house. Damned if I will. Don’t you agree, Miss Nisbitt?”
“I’m sure you are mistaken in her character, Mrs. Speers,” I said. “Millie mentioned she was going to visit her sister yesterday. No doubt she remained overnight.”
“And no doubt her sister—if she has one—was rattling up the ladder at midnight the night before.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
She simpered knowingly. “It is so refreshing to have a real lady to talk to. You never suspect ill of anyone, Miss Nisbitt, even when it is staring you in the face. I’m sure it is no odds to me who the trollop amuses herself with, so long as she pays up regular and doesn’t land a squawling brat in on us. And now I must return to my work. Thank you for the tea, it was lovely, as usual. A new tea set, I believe?”
The heavy crockery had been replaced, along with the addition of a few other refinements, to the detriment of our savings.
“Yes, do you like it?”
“Very genteel, I’m sure. If you’re not using the old one, I’ll just get it out of your way. I have picked up a rooming house in London, and am busy furnishing it.”
Annie and I exchanged an astonished glance. “The gothics,” she explained. “They are still selling as fast as kippers on the street corner. One reads of their demise from time to time, but great literature always endures, don’t you agree, Miss Nisbitt?”
I smiled pleasantly, and made a mental note to step up the pace on my own gothic. In order to catch the right, profitable tone, I borrowed a few of Mrs. Speers’s novels. Outwriting her did not appear to pose a problem. I could invent a gloomy mansion bordered by ancient yews, and a heroine prone to swooning at the slightest provocation as well as the next one. It was the heroine herself that upset me. Could any female really be so foolish as to believe in ghosts? Was sitting around, swooning, the only course of action to occur to her? Such a woman deserved her fate. Yet this was what allowed Mrs. Speers to buy up a rooming house with as little care for the expense as buying a new pair of stockings.
In the above manner we settled into our new life. At times we, probably Annie more than I, felt the loss of what we had left behind. On rainy days, of which there were many as September drew to a close, we felt like badgers in their sett in our shabby little rooms. But Annie had Arthur, I had my career, and we both had the satisfaction of independence.
We also had a flurry of letters from Geoffrey Nesbitt. The first contained an apology, in case he had unintentionally done anything to cause offense, and enquired in polite but stiff words how long we planned to remain in Bath. Our friends were pestering him for information, and he felt uncomfortable having to put them off for so long. Annie had written to him, giving our address. I wrote a reply, stiffer still than his own, ignoring any reference to having taken offense at the theft of my fortune, and informing him that it was not my
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