reached over to cover a work-worn hand. “Thank you, Peg. You don’t know what that means to me.”
“Reckon I do, miss. It’s not good to be alone in the world, especially for a woman. But it’s for my own benefit too. So we’ll live in London, will we? Where?”
Peg was cheerfully confident that Bella knew what she was doing, but Bella had hardly made a decision in her life more serious than the trimming for a bonnet. She was sure independence was what her great- grandmother had in mind, however, so she had best grasp this rare opportunity or she’d never be able to face Lady Raddall in heaven.
She tried to sound more knowledgeable than she was. “I’ll rent rooms in Soho—that’s where Lady Fowler’s house is. You will take care of things there while I assist Lady Fowler in her work.”
“Very well, miss.”
The wages of a cook-housekeeper should probably be more than the amounts fixed by Mr. Clatterford for a lady’s maid, but Bella didn’t know what would be right, especially in London. She didn’t know how they would manage things such as the purchase of food, fuel, and anything else they needed.
In fact, she knew nothing!
Very well, she did need some help. Tomorrow she’d discuss all this with Mr. Clatterford. She settled in bed, hoping for a sound sleep, but the mattress was lumpy, and after such a day, her mind roiled. She replayed the glorious moment when she’d received the news, but she also tumbled wildly amidst fears and doubts.
London! She’d been there, but only for escorted visits to fashionable spots and entertainments, and that in the last reign. She remembered how the bell tolling the king’s death had helped them escape from the Black Rat. . . .
She pushed that out of her mind.
Augustus made much of the new propriety at court, the boring prig. How he’d enjoyed lecturing her, both before and after the scandal. Enough of Augustus. Another subject to lock out of her mind.
Except that she still worried about what he’d do. Could he still claim she was mad, and lock her away? Clatterford had said no, but she couldn’t entirely dismiss the fear. All the more reason to take a new name and alter her appearance.
To be a new person, with no scandal attached, and no fear of her family.
She needed a new name. What would serve? Harriet, Sophronia, Jane, Margaret . . . They all felt too strange. Something close to Bella, then. Isabella was her real name, and Arabella was too close to that. Clarabella was too frivolous.
Bell . . . Bell . . . Bellona! The goddess of war.
She liked that.
Her new surname should be something equally warlike.
Bellona Sword? Hardly.
Bellona Cannon? No.
Bellona Gunn . . .
Bellona Flint . . .
Oh, yes, Bellona Flint. Hard, sharp, and a necessary part of murderous weapons.
Tomorrow she’d find out from Mr. Clatterford what she should do to become Bellona Flint, and what else she need do to protect herself.
The solicitor was most unhappy with her plans. He tried to persuade her that she would be completely safe in Tunbridge Wells, and would soon be accepted in the best society. When Bella expressed her doubts, however, he deflated. “But you are so young, my dear. I cannot condone your setting up your own establishment.”
Bella almost shivered at standing up to authority, but she did it. “As I understand it, Mr. Clatterford, you have no more power to condone my choices than my brother has.”
“Oh, dear, oh, dear . . .”
At Clatterford’s insistence, they were taking breakfast together, leaving Peg to eat alone.
“But London,” he protested, his meal hardly touched. “I will not be on hand to advise you.”
“I regret that, sir, but surely you could arrange some other trustworthy solicitor.”
“But you are still too young to live alone. Only just twenty-one.”
Bella didn’t want to tell him about Lady Fowler, for he’d have to object. “I have Peg, and I know London a little. I intend to live quietly, and to claim to be
“Reckon I do, miss. It’s not good to be alone in the world, especially for a woman. But it’s for my own benefit too. So we’ll live in London, will we? Where?”
Peg was cheerfully confident that Bella knew what she was doing, but Bella had hardly made a decision in her life more serious than the trimming for a bonnet. She was sure independence was what her great- grandmother had in mind, however, so she had best grasp this rare opportunity or she’d never be able to face Lady Raddall in heaven.
She tried to sound more knowledgeable than she was. “I’ll rent rooms in Soho—that’s where Lady Fowler’s house is. You will take care of things there while I assist Lady Fowler in her work.”
“Very well, miss.”
The wages of a cook-housekeeper should probably be more than the amounts fixed by Mr. Clatterford for a lady’s maid, but Bella didn’t know what would be right, especially in London. She didn’t know how they would manage things such as the purchase of food, fuel, and anything else they needed.
In fact, she knew nothing!
Very well, she did need some help. Tomorrow she’d discuss all this with Mr. Clatterford. She settled in bed, hoping for a sound sleep, but the mattress was lumpy, and after such a day, her mind roiled. She replayed the glorious moment when she’d received the news, but she also tumbled wildly amidst fears and doubts.
London! She’d been there, but only for escorted visits to fashionable spots and entertainments, and that in the last reign. She remembered how the bell tolling the king’s death had helped them escape from the Black Rat. . . .
She pushed that out of her mind.
Augustus made much of the new propriety at court, the boring prig. How he’d enjoyed lecturing her, both before and after the scandal. Enough of Augustus. Another subject to lock out of her mind.
Except that she still worried about what he’d do. Could he still claim she was mad, and lock her away? Clatterford had said no, but she couldn’t entirely dismiss the fear. All the more reason to take a new name and alter her appearance.
To be a new person, with no scandal attached, and no fear of her family.
She needed a new name. What would serve? Harriet, Sophronia, Jane, Margaret . . . They all felt too strange. Something close to Bella, then. Isabella was her real name, and Arabella was too close to that. Clarabella was too frivolous.
Bell . . . Bell . . . Bellona! The goddess of war.
She liked that.
Her new surname should be something equally warlike.
Bellona Sword? Hardly.
Bellona Cannon? No.
Bellona Gunn . . .
Bellona Flint . . .
Oh, yes, Bellona Flint. Hard, sharp, and a necessary part of murderous weapons.
Tomorrow she’d find out from Mr. Clatterford what she should do to become Bellona Flint, and what else she need do to protect herself.
The solicitor was most unhappy with her plans. He tried to persuade her that she would be completely safe in Tunbridge Wells, and would soon be accepted in the best society. When Bella expressed her doubts, however, he deflated. “But you are so young, my dear. I cannot condone your setting up your own establishment.”
Bella almost shivered at standing up to authority, but she did it. “As I understand it, Mr. Clatterford, you have no more power to condone my choices than my brother has.”
“Oh, dear, oh, dear . . .”
At Clatterford’s insistence, they were taking breakfast together, leaving Peg to eat alone.
“But London,” he protested, his meal hardly touched. “I will not be on hand to advise you.”
“I regret that, sir, but surely you could arrange some other trustworthy solicitor.”
“But you are still too young to live alone. Only just twenty-one.”
Bella didn’t want to tell him about Lady Fowler, for he’d have to object. “I have Peg, and I know London a little. I intend to live quietly, and to claim to be
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