Authors: Kathryn Caskie
"Darling child," Lady Viola began hesitantly. "Do you mean to say he . . . well, certainly the two of you did not
—
"
But Jenny was already nodding her head. Why lie to them now? After all, if she was with child, they would learn of it soon enough. Secrets never lived long in the Featherton household. Lud, she was surprised word of her tingle cream sales hadn't yet drifted above stairs.
There was a collective gasp from the Feathertons, then abject silence as they considered her silent admission.
"Of course, afterward, he offered for you. Yes, of
183
course he would have." Lady Viola beamed and clapped her hands excitedly. "When may we begin to plan the wedding?"
But Jenny only stared mutely back at her.
Lady Letitia raised her hand, stopping her sister's merriment. "My, my. It seems our Lord Argyll is not quite the gentleman we had hoped he would grow to be." She leaned so close to Jenny that their noses nearly collided. "Sweeting, after the two of you . .. well, what did he say to you
exactly.
Perhaps you are merely confused."
Jenny released her breath and a watery whimper slipped out. "No, my lady. Sadly, I am quite clear on the matter. I believe his exact words were 'I ca
n
na marry you.'"
Lady Letitia nodded as if she suddenly understood. "Oh, this makes more sense. You told him the secret of your position within our household."
"No, my lady. He still believes me to be Lady Genevieve."
"Then why will he not marry you?" the two Feather-ton sisters chimed as one.
And so, in a hail of tears, Jenny explained everything. Told them about Lord Lyon, his lie, the abuse Callu
m
suffered at his father's hand, and finally of his frightening vow to end his family line.
Lady Viola seemed as disturbed as she was confused. "Bu
t
... bu
t
... if you are with child, his line has not been extinguished."
Lady Letitia rose from the chair, her red cheeks puffing in outrage. "Oh, Viola! Do you not see? If he doesn't marry our Jenny, the child, if there is one, will be a
bastard.
In the eyes of the new Lord Lyon, and the
184
law, when Callu
m
passes on without legal issue, the Argyll line
will
have been extinguished."
Putting her meager weight on her cane, Lady Viola raised herself to her feet. "Dear, dear. Of a certain, he will come around, and whether there is a child, or there is not, I know my Callu
m
—
e
r
r
.. .
Lord Argyll
will offer for you whether you be Lady Genevieve or Miss Jenny Penny."
Jenny pressed on a weak yet hopeful smile for the ever optimistic Lady Viola.
In her heart
,
however, she knew better. For in the darkness of Laura Place, she had stumbled upon the ugly truth of her situation.
The man who honored truth above all things, the man who allowed himself to trust her when he would no one else, would never be able to accept the grand lie she had willingly perpetuated about her identity.
Never.
******************
"Jenny," Er
m
a, the scullery maid, shrieked, "you're spillin' the e
m
u
ls
—
t
he e
m
u
ls
—
o
h, bugger i
t
—
t
he bloody melted cream all over the table. Where is your head this eve?"
"Sorry," Jenny muttered. "But do try to keep your voice down. Lady Letitia rang for my mother twice now, so I know she is not yet abed."
"Well, you mightn't care if you waste the cream, but you pay me a shilling per pot and you've already burnt a batch this eve, so I can't afford to lose none to the table and floor. 'Ere, let me pour it into the gallipots."
Jenny handled the iron ladle to Er
m
a
,
then plopped
185
dow
n
on a stool and tried to center her thoughts on her business ... instead of on Callu
m
, and her possible baby.
"How many pots does Ba
rt
leby need?" she asked Er
m
a softly.
"Well, he said as many as I could deliver. Told me your idea about givin' the pots away with a posh purchase was brilliant. Said ladies of the Quality actually queue up to buy his baubles now. Oh! I completely forgot." Erma released the ladle and let it clatter to the worktable. "Hold on a tick. He sent a parcel over for you."
"For me?" Jenny perked right up.
When Erma returned, Jenny watched impatiently as the scullery maid set a small red leather box before her.
"What is it?" she asked eagerly.
"I dunno. Go on, open it."
Jenny bit her lip and she slid the tiny gold clasp aside and opened the lid of the box. There, inside, were the pearl earbobs he'd refused to let her put on her account. The earrings she'd seen the very day she first met Callum.
"Blimey, them are a lot grander than the pair he gave me for offering you up. Why, they're as fat as hazelnuts."
But Er
m
a's words were scarce more than a buzzing to Jenny. She could not take her gaze from the magnificent pearl drop earbobs. "Blimey is right." She looked at Erma. "They're gorgeous! But why did he send them?"
"He said 'twas for the customers you've brought him. All it took was a notice in
The Bath Herald
and in
The
186
Bath Journal,
and there was a queue clean down Mi
l
so
m
Street before opening time."
Erma leaned on the table and reached out to finger the earrings. Jenny snatched them out of her reach.
"Where'
d
you learn about the merchant trade, if you don't mind me pryin' a bit? I never would have come up with an idea like that—
f
ree pots to make customers buy more."
Jenny shrugged. "I just imagined what might encourage me to buy from the top shel
f
—
I
mean, were I a lady of course."
Erma grinned at her. "For a shilling a pot, you are a real lady in my mind ...
Lady Eros."
"L-Lady Eros?"
came Lady Letitia's low voice from • behind them.
"Oh, dear," Lady Viola uttered within the same breath.
A pang of horror propelled Jenny to her feet. She and Erma slowly turned around to see their employers standing just inside the kitchen door.
Erma dropped a quick curtsy, then hurried out of the kitchen, leaving Jenny to their mercy.
"My ... my ladies. What are you doing below stairs?" Jenny managed to stammer.
"We smelled a queer odor drifting up the stairway and since we could not sleep, we decided to track its source." Lady Letitia's thick white brows were drawn so close in the middle that they reminded Jenny of a furry V.
"The question should be, my dear, just what are you doin
g
—
L
ady Eros,
is it?" Lady Viola asked.
Oh, goodness. Here it comes now.
She was going to be sacked. They wouldn't care that she was with child,
187
or mi
gh
t be anyway.
Blast!
She would be on the street before morning, she just knew it.
"
I
... u
m
..."
Criminy. Just tell them the truth, Jenny.
"
I was making the tingle cream. And yes, I am Lady Eros, and this is the ... below stairs cream that for some reason every member of the
ton
must have."
Stealthily, Jenny closed the lid to the red leather box from Bartleby's and covertly slipped it from the table and into her apron pocket.
T
h
e two ladies studied her for a long moment, then burst into laughter, startling Jenny so that she lurched. Tripping backward over the harvest basket, she slammed against the floor.
"Oh, Jenny, are you injured?" Lady Viola clucked as her sister knelt next to Jenny and began to help her to her feet.
Jenny shook her head dazedly, confused when Lady Letitia, of all people, assisted her to the stool once more. "I am fine."
"Oh, good. Wouldn't want anything to happen to my grea
t
—" Lady Viola broke off and looked fearfully at her sister.
"Our ...
greatly
entertaining lady's maid," Lady Letitia concluded with a grand smile.
H
mm
.
Somehow Jenny got the impression that wasn't at all what Lady Viola had meant to say.
"You are not angry?" Jenny asked guardedly.
Lady Viola shook her head and brushed her question away with a wave of her bony hand.
"Y-you are not going to dismiss me?"
Lady Letitia, who had a distinct twinkle in her eye, iaid a pudgy hand on Jenny's shoulder. "Of course not,
188
gel. There is nothing wrong with showing a bit of pluc
k
—
e
specially given your new condition."
"Possible
condition," amended Lady Letitia. Then she paused a moment as she and Lady Viola exchanged conspiratorial glances. "Though perhaps now we might be able to acquire a po
t
... or even two
tonight
?”
Though Jenny was still quite gobsmacked that her employers didn't seem to care a lick about her tingle cream business, she had to grin at the Feathertons' request. Stifling a guffaw as she lifted a gallipot in each hand, she watched her two elderly employers snatch them from her with gusto.
Lady Letitia gave an exaggerated yawn. "We'll just be off to bed then, I think. I for one am quite sleepy suddenly."
Lady Viola nodded her head in agreement
,
sending the wattle at her throat wobbling. "As am I. Do get some rest
,
Jenny. I am sure tomorrow will bring us better news."
"Yes, my lady." Jenny rose and bobbed a curtsy as the snow-capped twins started for the stairway.
******************
That night, heavy, driving rain poured over Bath, but the next day, the sun shone brightly, warming the air. By late afternoon, but for slushy mounds of snow nestled in shadows between houses, the icy blanket that had paralyzed Bath for two full days had melted.
Jenny had greatly needed those two days. It had been a blessing that she had been unable to leave the house. She had needed the time to think about the course her life should tak
e
—
i
f she was indeed with child.
189
She could live out her life in service, this she knew. But Jupiter, that would be hard, especially after tasting the sweet life of her betters.
Her tingle cream business had taken Bath by storm, and she had earned quite a lot of blunt in the past weeks. That was good. But she'd spent every bit, right down to the last half crown, on gowns and adornments. That was bad.
Why, Miss Meredith had said her lady's maid possessed a far better wardrobe than she, and though Jenny denied it profusely, she felt quite satisfied in the knowledge that the statement was completely true.
Still, the ways of the
ton
were fickle and Jenny knew her fortune, and therefore her clothing-buying expeditions —
a
nd indeed her futur
e
—
w
as limited by their whims, which of a certain would turn to some other diversion within time. Yes, her guinea-gaining days were limited. How much longer did she have? Another month? Two?
"What about a shop of your own?" Annie suggested as they walked to Trim Street for needles and silk thread that late afternoon. "You know, the old Upperton Dry Goods place on Milso
m
is still unoccupied. Has been
t
or at least a year. I'm sure you could let the shop for a pittance."
Jenny kept walking. "Well, I haven't got any money, Annie, and besides, what would I sell?"
Annie scoffed. "What indeed! The tingle cream of course."
She stopped walking as an image erupted in her mind. A store brimming with luxurious fabrics and trims, fans and modish bonnets, fragrant scent bottles from France and her own blends of powders and beauty