To Millie’s relief, Mrs. Miller didn’t seem to notice her sudden lapse. Indeed, to Millie’s eyes, it seemed that Mrs. Miller was suffering more pain in her joints. She looked at the kitchen clock and smiled. Miss Hetty would get much-needed sleep, the poor lamb.
Hetty awoke in a panic. She knew instantly that it was long past noon. Her eyes frantically sought out the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. Half-past two in the afternoon. Where the devil was Millie? She dashed out of her warm bed and pulled vigorously on the bell cord.
Millie entered her room a few minutes later, a faint smile puckering out her thin cheeks. “No need to fret, Miss Hetty. Sir Archibald did not lunch at home today.”
“That’s impossible. Don’t lie to me, Millie. You felt sorry for me and didn’t wake me up. Oh dear, what did he say? Is he upset with me?”
“Your father informed Mrs. Miller that he was lunching with Sir Mortimer Melberry. In fact, Grimpston overheard Sir Archibald muttering about some elections and how he must keep a very close eye on the Whigs. I don’t believe that he will be back for dinner.”
Hetty dropped the shift she’d just grabbed up. “Good heavens, Millie, these elections must be something to send Father out of the house before noon. I daresay I shall discover what is afoot tomorrow over luncheon. Surely he would never be gone two days in a row. This entire household would come to a halt were he to do that.”
“No doubt. Now, Missie, back into bed with you. No playing the young gentleman tonight. I’ve told Cook to send a tray later to your room.”
After Millie quietly closed herself from the bedchamber, Hetty snuggled down into the warm covers, not to sleep again, but to think. It seemed fantastic to her, now that she was once again the protected young lady of quality, that she could ever have become entangled in such an incredible situation. She raised thankful eyes upward that she had managed to come through with her identity as Lord Harry Monteith without question. She wondered now how many other young girls were in Mavreen’s situation forced to sell their bodies so that they would not starve? As much as she hated the inevitable answer to her silent question, she realized that her hands were quite full enough trying to untangle just Mavreen’s future. She had made firm promises to the girl, promises that she was honor-bound to fulfill.
Hetty sat up in her bed and fluffed a pillow behind her head. She had promised to settle Mavreen in some sort of position. As her knowledge of these matters was limited, the only ideas that came to mind centered around governesses and ladies’ maids. She pursed her lips, deep in thought. Suddenly, she remembered Louisa, her sister-in-law. Indeed, it was inspiration. Dear Louisa was always complaining how Little John wore her to a frazzle and then it was Big John’s turn. Were not Louisa’s letters full of how she wished for a younger person to chase after him when his mother fell exhausted onto a sofa? Well, she now had the perfect solution. She felt rather smug for coming to such a neat resolution so quickly. She couldn’t help but remember though that she hadn’t felt one single whit of smugness the night before, when she’d had to face down that dragon, Lady Buxtell, at four o’clock in the morning. Oh God, she thought even now, remembering how she’d watched Lady Buxtell standing in the empty drawing room, undoubtedly relishing her success in dispatching all the gentlemen either upstairs with her girls or politely removing them from her establishment. Hetty had approached her with a brisk stride, a frown on her face.
“My Lord Monteith,” Lady Buxtell had said, managing to dredge up a brittle smile, not forgetting or forgiving his sneering rudeness upon his arrival. “You leave us very early. You were with Mavreen, were you not? So untouched she is, so innocent yet skilled, so”
Hetty interrupted with all the contempt she could muster, “Yes, I had the misfortune to be with that whining, fearful little fool. I was told, my dear Lady Buxtell, that a gentleman would not leave your house unsatisfied. I shall regret telling my friends that your establishment is sorely lacking in service, ma’am.”