Authors: Kathryn Caskie
She didn't know why she bothered, for who would buy a pot of cream from her now that all of Bath knew the whispered-of Lady Eros was naught but a lady's maid?
What she saw inside nearly made her faint. Her breath came fast, and she slapped her hand to her chest to 'steady herself.
The basket was full. More than full. At least eight stones had fallen out and lay against the woven carrier.
She clenched her fist. If this was Er
m
a's idea of getting back at her ... but then she opened her palms. Tiny notes were bound with strings, thread, or colorful wool to the stones. She bent and removed one.
"Two pots for Mrs. Potter, Fifteen Great Pulteney Street," she read aloud. She opened another note. "Mr. Higgins, Six Lower Borough Walls, requests one pot please."
She read three others, but realized there was no need to continue. These were all legitimate order
s
—
b
ut not from the
ton.
No, these were from ordinary folk. A smile lifted her lips for the first time since the previous night.
Chapter
E
ighteen
E
ach morning for the fortnight following the fateful ball, Jenny awoke to discover her harvest basket bulging with stones.
So, after a day's work blending concoctions for the Feathe
rt
ons and seeing to the sartorial needs of Miss Meredith, Jenny split her time between the stillroom where she extracted the Mitcham peppermint from her herbs, and the kitchen, where she would stir the creamy emulsion and fill the awaiting gallipots.
Her hands remained busy, though her mind was left to ponder the mistakes she made during her short time with Callu
m
. She knew her betrayal pained him deeply. He'd not even come to call on his grandmother, Lady Viola, as had become his habit just before the ball, and Jenny knew how much that hurt the old woman.
How she wished she could live those weeks over again.
Not that she would have done much differently, for she was who she was after all. Except she would have told him the truth when the opportunity first presented itself, instead of waiting 'til nearly every granule of sand had sieved through the pinch in the hourglass. For
288
had she been honest with him, her life might have been so different today.
Distracted by such somber thoughts, Jenny failed to notice that the pot over the embers had overheated until it began to sputter and pop, sending globules of cream into the hearth where they ignited into flames.
Scolding herself for her inattention, she yanked the crane toward her and quickly hoisted the pot from its hook, completely forgetting to insulate the handle with a folded cotton cloth.
Blast!
The metal handle seared her hand, and she dropped the pot onto the slate hearth.
The fatty cream slowly seeped from the Up of the fallen pot and progressed toward the fire. Lifting her hem, Jenny ran across the kitchen pavers to fetch a broom to whisk the emulsion back before it could reach the fire.
The service door swung wide, nearly striking Jenny down, as Annie walked into the kitchen.
"Help me!" Jenny pleaded, frantically waving her finger at the hearth and the steaming cream.
Annie followed Jenny's finger and when she saw the pot on its side, her eyes nearly leapt from her skull. "Great God in heaven, Jenny, are you tryin
'
to burn the house down?"
Annie flung her basket to the floor and raced to the hearth. Catching up the ember shovel in her hands, she quickly built a dam of ashes to prevent the cream from reaching the fire.
Jenny's heart pounded in her ears. Thank heavens Annie had come when she did.
A few minutes later, Annie had wordlessly scraped the sputtering emulsion back into the pot and had turned back to Jenny.
289
"What is in that head of yours, hm
m
?" Perspiration laced A
n
nie's hairline and her cheeks were flushed from exertion and the heat of the cooking fire.
Jenny slumped to a low stool. "That's just it. I can't concentrate on anything . . . but the pain I've caused everyone."
Annie came over to her and wiped a smudge of soot from Jenny's face with the hem of her apron. "Look at those rings under your eyes. Haven't you been sleeping none?"
Jenny shook her head. "Whenever my eyes close long enough to sleep, I seem to relive Miss Meredith's ball. All I can see is Callum's stricken face when I have to admit that all those damning words hurled by that thieving woman were completely true."
Lifting an empty gallipot to her lips, Jenny blew into it to remove the flecks of ash from the hearth. "And so I come in here to work until I can barely stand. Only then can I claim a dreamless sleep. But by then, 'tis almost morn."
Annie pulled Jenny into an embrace and hugged her. She leaned back and raised Jenny's chin with her palm. "You can't keep this up.
'Tisn't
good for you ... or your babe."
The warning startled Jenny. "
I
—
I
never said my condition was for certain."
"No, but you didn't need to neither. Because for the first time since I've known you, you haven't been whining about the pain in your belly at month's end. And you ain't just late neither. Why the moon itself sets its month by you."
Jenny pulled away from Annie and dragged the pot of ruined cream toward the door so she could dump it out-
290
side come morn. But Annie was right. She was never late, and now had to admit what she'd avoided acknowledging all along.
She leveled a sullen gaze at Annie, not wishing to discuss her condition with anyone. Best to keep it quiet for as long as possible so as not to impact her cream business. For now more than ever, wi
th
the babe coming, she'd need every spare shilling she could earn.
Annie had just settled herself before the long trestle table when Jenny pulled up a stool and sat down for the first time all eve. She looked quizzically at Annie. "What are you doing here so late anyway? Shouldn't you be thinking of heading abed yourself?"
"
'Tisn't
that late, and besides, I've got some news that might brighten your spirits." Annie's eyes were large and she bit her bottom lip with excitement.
"What? Has a new footman come to Bath?" Jenny grinned and raised her brows in anticipation.
"Better.
And you are going to thank me, Jenny Penny." She paused a moment more, until Jenny's curiosity had her ready to shake the news loose from her friend.
"Well, on Saturday next, you and I have an interview with Mr. Malcolm Lewis."
Jenny just stared back at Annie. "The name means nothing to me. Why should I wish an interview with this fellow?"
"Because, ducks, he owns the empty shop on Mi
l
so
m
. You remember. We peered through the window one afternoon."
Yes, she did remember that day, but
l
ud, those happier times seemed like years ago now. "An interview, you say?"
2
91
"What with all the orders you've been gettin' from the regular folk, you're certain to have the blunt to let the place
n
ow, or at least you will have soon enough, I reckon." Annie stared patiently back at Jenny as if waiting for some reaction.
Then it happened. The dullness that seemed to cover her like a wool cloak these past two weeks began to lift. There was an excitement building within her, something she had not felt in a very long time.
"Ah, there we go, ducks. I can see it now. ''Tis in your eyes, bright and shiny as a new guinea." The grin on Annie's face was contagious, and Jenny found herself smiling as well.
"All right. I'll do it!"
"Knew you would. Well, must be off." Annie retrieved her basket and headed for the door. "I daresay, it mightn't be too soon to start thinking about what you will sell, besides the tingle cream of course."
Jenny nodded, and as soon as Annie had gone, she raced to her chamber. Flipping open her scientific journal, she thumbed through the pages until she found her extensive plans for her very own shop.
******************
The next morning, Jenny did the impossible. Taking her earnings, she paid her accounts in full. Yes, she settled up with every merchant she owed in Bath.
This process took nearly an entire day to achieve, even with Annie's assistance, but it was worth it and necessar
y
—
f
or her future and the babe's.
For if she was to open her shop and fill it with glorious trinkets, creams, and balms of her own making, she
292
would need to be able to do business on account with a number of merchants in Bath.
Especially the draper. For her latest brilliant idea for her shop was to create a selection of ready-to
-
wear gowns created in the height of modish Paris fashion.
Annie had scoffed at the idea, for everyone knew that ladies of the
ton
habitually visited the draper for fabrics, then had a modiste craft the gown. The process took days or even weeks.
Yes, this was the inefficient way gowns
had
been sold. But what were the ladies to do when an unexpected invitation arrived to a glittering social event? They had to condescend to retrieve an old gown from their trunk or wardrobe, when in their heart they longed to impress with a new gown.
Until now, this was impossible. No modiste could fashion a high-quality gown so quickly. Jenny knew this for certain, for she had tried during her courtship with Callu
m
! And even then, on short notice, the best she had been able to hope for was a remade gown.
Hardly the same. Remade gowns didn't make the body shiver with pleasure, now did they?
So Jenny decided that her shop would carry several gowns, drawn straight from
La Belle Assemblιe,
made to fit women of average proportions. She, herself, being handy with a needle, would see to the final fitting.
When Jenny returned to her chamber after paying off every debt she had, she almost felt giddy. This was really going to happen. Though it was going to take every shilling she had left, she was going to meet with Mr. Lewis on Saturday and the shop was going to be hers.
Hers.
Jenny could already see herself standing inside the
2
93
elegant silk-swathed shop. A stack of her tingle cream would fill one of the narrow windows, for the product was her mainstay. In the other window would be fantastic collections of baubles, fans, and slippers, all guaranteed to make even the most sensible lady drool like a hound beneath a supper table.
And each day, she would wear a different piece of jewelry or maybe a new mantle. Well, it only made sense. For how could her customers truly see the magnificence of a quality piece when it was stuffed into a glass case? It just wasn't the same, was it?
Happiness budded within her at the thought of her future, but somehow the feeling never blossomed, never wiped away the sadness aching in her breast.
She missed Callu
m
.
Just then Miss Meredith came racing into her chamber and leapt on her bed like Cook's marmalade cat.
"Hurry, you can't wear your service clothe
s
—
y
ou've got to change into something more suitable." Excitement coursed through every fiber of Meredith's being.
"Something more suited t
o
... what?" Jenny asked warily.
"For an interview." Meredith shook her hands in frustration. "Lud, Jenny, he's come to see you."
"Oh, for goodness' sake." Jenny rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Who
is here?"
"Please, Jenny. I only race down here when
he
comes to call for you. And he has." Meredith grabbed Jenny's hands and squeezed them. "Lord Argyll is above stairs right now."
294
Jenny did not change into a more appropriate frock. It was befitting for his lordship to view her as she really wa
s
—
a
maid.
As she approached the drawing room where he waited, she glanced into the mirror to double check her appearance. Every hair was in place, and in the golden afternoon light, her citrine earbobs perfectly accented the green in her eyes.
She gave a quick thought to removing the earbob
s
— so that he would see nothing but a lady's maid. But leaving her earlobes unadorned conveyed no more the
"
true" Jenny than entering the room in a beaded ball gown would.