The Summer Maiden. Dilly Court
gaze, her hooded eyelids barely concealing her disapproval.
‘I came in answer to your advertisement,’ Caroline said firmly. ‘I think I would be ideally suited to the position.’
‘You do, do you? And what gives you that idea?’
‘I’m well educated, and I know how to conduct myself, Mrs Colville.’
‘What is your name?’
Caroline hesitated. The name Manning was well known in Wapping, especially by those connected with shipping. ‘Caroline Manley.’
‘You look very young. I was hoping for an older woman.’
‘I’m seventeen, ma’am. But I’m mature for my age.’
‘Hmm.’ Mrs Colville raised a lorgnette to her eyes. ‘My granddaughter is of a similar age, but I would not consider you to be a suitable chaperone. You may leave now.’
Caroline stared at her, shocked and surprised by this cavalier treatment. ‘That’s not fair, Mrs Colville. You haven’t given me a chance to prove my worth. Might I not meet your granddaughter? Surely it’s important that she has a companion she likes.’
‘You have a lot to say for yourself for someone so young.’ The lorgnette was raised again and Mrs Colville was silent for a few seconds. ‘Very well. I’m a fair woman. Ring the bell and I’ll send for Maria. But don’t think this means that you have the position.’
Caroline tugged at the bell pull. ‘I understand perfectly.’
‘You’re well spoken, I’ll give you that, and you have the air of a lady, even if you are wearing that ridiculous bonnet. I cannot abide bright colours and in particular I hate scarlet.’
‘I have more bonnets.’
‘Then why do you want to work? Why are you not at home with your family, where any well-brought-up young girl should be until she is married?’
‘My father is dead.’ Caroline did not need to put on the tremor in her voice. She dashed tears away with her gloved hand. ‘My mother is unwell, and my family have fallen on hard times. But I don’t want pity. I need to pay my way and that is why this job is important to me.’
‘You speak eloquently. Why didn’t you accept the position with the titled lady, or is she a figment of your imagination?’
‘The person in question is Lady Bearwood, who is a friend of Mama’s.’ Caroline had not intended to flaunt her connection with the late Earl of Dawlish’s daughter, but she was desperate. ‘I am prepared to work hard and do my best.’
Mrs Colville’s eyes narrowed. ‘I would expect at least one reference.’
‘Of course.’ Caroline hoped she sounded confident, but it might be difficult with Lady Alice away in Devonshire, and with Cordelia staying with friends somewhere in the country.
An awkward silence filled the room, broken only by the steady ticking of the marble clock on the mantelshelf. Caroline did not like to sit down without being invited to do so, and Mrs Colville seemed to have forgotten her presence, as she picked up her embroidery hoop and concentrated on the intricate design, her needle stabbing the cloth as if it were her worst enemy. Caroline stood by the fireplace, wishing that Mrs Colville’s granddaughter would hurry up and make an appearance.
Minutes later the door opened and a tall, dark-haired young woman entered the room. ‘You wanted to see me, Grandmama?’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.
‘What kept you, Maria? We’ve been waiting for a good five minutes.’
‘I’m sorry, Grandmama.’
‘Don’t hover, girl. You know how it annoys me.’
‘I’m sorry, Grandmama.’ Maria Colville slumped down on the nearest chair, head bent, staring down at her tightly folded hands.
‘Stop apologising, you know it irritates me.’ Mrs Colville threw her embroidery hoop at her granddaughter, narrowly missing her head as it floated harmlessly to the floor. ‘For goodness’ sake sit up straight, Maria. Don’t slouch.’
By this time Caroline was heartily sorry for Maria, and would have protested at the unfairness of this treatment, but she realised that anything she said might make matters worse, and she held her tongue.
‘Miss Manley has applied for the position I advertised in The Times, Maria. If I were to employ her she would be your constant companion, and chaperone. I would expect her to teach you a few social graces, of which you, alas, have none. You are twenty, and it’s high time you were married and off my hands.’ Mrs Colville turned her fierce gaze on Caroline. ‘As she is at present I can’t imagine any man taking her on, even with a sizeable dowry. Can you dance, Miss Manley?’
Caroline recoiled, the question taking her by surprise. ‘Yes, of course I can.’
‘Don’t take that attitude with me, miss. I asked a civil question and I only expect a yes or a no. Maria does not know her left foot from her right. She has no sense of rhythm and no idea of style. She has as much charm and elegance as that poker in the fireplace, and if I take you into my household I expect you to turn her in a beautiful swan. Are you familiar with the Danish fellow’s story about the ugly duckling?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Then that is what you must do. Maria is the ugly duckling and you are Mr Andersen, the storyteller. That is, if I decide to employ you.’
Caroline stifled the urge to tell Mrs Colville exactly what she thought of her, and she wished with all her heart that she could give the poor downtrodden granddaughter a comforting hug. Even though Maria’s dark head was bent and her thin shoulders hunched, Caroline could see tears glistening on her eyelashes. The thought of working for such a termagant as Mrs Colville, one of the architects of Jack Manning’s financial disaster, was against everything that Caroline stood for – but Maria was another matter. If ever anyone needed a champion it was the ungainly girl, who was sobbing quietly.
Later, walking homeward with her basket clutched in her hand, Caroline went over the interview in her mind. In the end, when Mrs Colville had seemed to tire of humiliating her own flesh and blood, she had mentioned an allowance, which was adequate, although not overgenerous. However, Caroline would be required to live in and everything, including her clothes, would be provided by her employer. These, Caroline assumed, would be plain and dowdy, causing her to merge with her background. Mrs Colville’s strategy to marry off an unwanted relative was blindingly obvious. She needed someone to bring the best out of her granddaughter, but that person must not take the attention away from Maria. Caroline was so deep in thought that she almost forgot why she had been sent out in the first place, but luckily she remembered in time and she explored the back streets until she came upon a butcher’s shop and a costermonger selling fruit and vegetables.
When she reached home she found Sadie in the kitchen.
‘You took your time,’ Sadie said, examining the contents of the wicker basket. ‘Not bad, but I hope you weren’t cheated. Street vendors are up to all sorts of tricks, like putting foreign coins in with the change and adding a farthing or two if they think they can get away with it.’
Caroline handed over what was left of the money that Sadie had given her. ‘I had to walk miles before I found a butcher’s shop, and then another where I might buy the rest of the things on your list.’
‘Well, you’re home now. The boys are having their first lesson with Laurence, so let’s hope he gets some replies to his advertisement soon. I’d go out to work myself, but there’s nothing much I can do. It might end up that I have to take in washing. At least there’s a decent copper in the outhouse.’
‘It won’t come to that. I think I have found myself a suitable position.’
‘What?’ Sadie dropped the basket on the table and sat down, staring at Caroline open-mouthed. ‘But what can you do? You’ve been