house that Madame had been prevailed upon to find the chit a
"decent" position of employment elsewhere: Ashleigh was going free! It was surely this that was prompting the carefree and joyful demeanor, and
why shouldn't it? Any day now Ashleigh would leave this place to become settled
into some nice, safe situation where she would be spared the social ostracism
and insecure future that had never sat well with Monica after she'd been forced
to choose this way of life.
Oh,
it wasn't that she'd been completely unhappy with her life at Hampton House. It
was far better than anything she might have expected before Drake found her
walking the streets, frightened and hungry, and deserted by a young lord. First
he'd compromised her honor when she'd been a companion to his sister during the
Christmas holiday season several years ago, then run off with her, promising
marriage, but leaving her alone and penniless in their rented chamber in an inn
not too far from here, never to return.
Monica
shut her eyes and gave a toss of her blond mane of hair as if in an attempt to
shake off the unpleasant memories of that time. She rarely allowed herself to
think of the weeks she'd been forced to take to the streets to eke out a living
before Drake found her, just as she kept at bay all thoughts of the home in
which she'd grown up. Home! It had been a veritable prison! Her
stern-faced father, the vicar, with his ever-present admonitions to her to deny
herself any form of pleasure lest she "fall into the ways of sin,"
the tight-lipped mother she loathed, a holier-than-thou creature bent on
keeping Monica from enjoying life in even the smallest ways... No, she
certainly had no desire to go back to their way of life, even if it were
possible.
But
what wouldn't she give to have the chance that Ashleigh Sinclair now had! To be
privately employed in the fine house of some wealthy lord, where who-only-knows
what sorts of possibilities might lie in store for a woman who was enterprising
and clever—it was a chance Monica longed for with every nerve and fiber of her
being, and to see such an opportunity thrust haphazardly in the lap of that
little bitch, Sinclair! Yes, it rankled....
Suddenly
the door to Madame's chambers opened, just as Monica saw Ashleigh disappear
down the servants' stairwell at the end of the hall, and Madame appeared,
dressed in a superb apricot silk traveling dress and matching pelisse. Missing
nothing, as usual, she spied Monica standing beside her partially ajar door and
smiled knowingly.
"Prying
about for useful information, Monica?" she purred in the blonde's
direction. "I cannot think there is much you will come upon at this early
hour. We both know most of the working women of this household are yet asleep,
and so, I think, should you be, if you wish to retain your looks!"
Monica
stifled the gasp that rose to her throat at the pointed mention of her need for
beauty rest and assumed an air of nonchalance. "Just looking about to see
if I might be of some service to anyone, Madame. I've had all the sleep I
require today."
"Just
so," nodded Madame in patently disbelieving fashion. "Yes, well,
since you seem to wish to be of such... use, perhaps there is something you
might do for me. I am leaving London to spend several days with old friends
once I've done some shopping, and I fear I am rather in a hurry. Do be so kind
as to run down to the kitchen with a message for Dorcas, would you?"
At
Monica's nod she walked briskly toward the main stairway, continuing rapidly
over her shoulder, "Tell her that letter we've been awaiting at last
arrived by this morning's post and she will find it on my writing table in
there." Madame gestured behind her as she reached the top of the stairs.
"Tell her that when I return, I shall expect Ashleigh Sinclair to be
gone." She paused and gave one last look at Monica over her shoulder.
"That should make you quite happy, I daresay, should it not, Monica?"
And with a low, throaty peal of satisfied
"decent" position of employment elsewhere: Ashleigh was going free! It was surely this that was prompting the carefree and joyful demeanor, and
why shouldn't it? Any day now Ashleigh would leave this place to become settled
into some nice, safe situation where she would be spared the social ostracism
and insecure future that had never sat well with Monica after she'd been forced
to choose this way of life.
Oh,
it wasn't that she'd been completely unhappy with her life at Hampton House. It
was far better than anything she might have expected before Drake found her
walking the streets, frightened and hungry, and deserted by a young lord. First
he'd compromised her honor when she'd been a companion to his sister during the
Christmas holiday season several years ago, then run off with her, promising
marriage, but leaving her alone and penniless in their rented chamber in an inn
not too far from here, never to return.
Monica
shut her eyes and gave a toss of her blond mane of hair as if in an attempt to
shake off the unpleasant memories of that time. She rarely allowed herself to
think of the weeks she'd been forced to take to the streets to eke out a living
before Drake found her, just as she kept at bay all thoughts of the home in
which she'd grown up. Home! It had been a veritable prison! Her
stern-faced father, the vicar, with his ever-present admonitions to her to deny
herself any form of pleasure lest she "fall into the ways of sin,"
the tight-lipped mother she loathed, a holier-than-thou creature bent on
keeping Monica from enjoying life in even the smallest ways... No, she
certainly had no desire to go back to their way of life, even if it were
possible.
But
what wouldn't she give to have the chance that Ashleigh Sinclair now had! To be
privately employed in the fine house of some wealthy lord, where who-only-knows
what sorts of possibilities might lie in store for a woman who was enterprising
and clever—it was a chance Monica longed for with every nerve and fiber of her
being, and to see such an opportunity thrust haphazardly in the lap of that
little bitch, Sinclair! Yes, it rankled....
Suddenly
the door to Madame's chambers opened, just as Monica saw Ashleigh disappear
down the servants' stairwell at the end of the hall, and Madame appeared,
dressed in a superb apricot silk traveling dress and matching pelisse. Missing
nothing, as usual, she spied Monica standing beside her partially ajar door and
smiled knowingly.
"Prying
about for useful information, Monica?" she purred in the blonde's
direction. "I cannot think there is much you will come upon at this early
hour. We both know most of the working women of this household are yet asleep,
and so, I think, should you be, if you wish to retain your looks!"
Monica
stifled the gasp that rose to her throat at the pointed mention of her need for
beauty rest and assumed an air of nonchalance. "Just looking about to see
if I might be of some service to anyone, Madame. I've had all the sleep I
require today."
"Just
so," nodded Madame in patently disbelieving fashion. "Yes, well,
since you seem to wish to be of such... use, perhaps there is something you
might do for me. I am leaving London to spend several days with old friends
once I've done some shopping, and I fear I am rather in a hurry. Do be so kind
as to run down to the kitchen with a message for Dorcas, would you?"
At
Monica's nod she walked briskly toward the main stairway, continuing rapidly
over her shoulder, "Tell her that letter we've been awaiting at last
arrived by this morning's post and she will find it on my writing table in
there." Madame gestured behind her as she reached the top of the stairs.
"Tell her that when I return, I shall expect Ashleigh Sinclair to be
gone." She paused and gave one last look at Monica over her shoulder.
"That should make you quite happy, I daresay, should it not, Monica?"
And with a low, throaty peal of satisfied
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