Regency House by Elizabeth Moss

Author:Elizabeth Moss [Moss, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Thimblerig Press
Published: 2014-12-16T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

SOPHIA

The candle on the mantle flickered in the draught as Sophia quietly closed the door of her bedchamber, checking first that nobody was loitering outside on the dark landing. Her Jamaican maid Carmella had been looking at her suspiciously for the past few days, no doubt sensing that she had a scheme in hand – she had been Sophia’s nurse too, and knew her character well – and this was a conversation Sophia did not intend to be overheard.

Turning to the understairs maid Becky, who looked quite pale with fright, she raised her eyebrows. ‘Well?’

Becky was a tiny little thing with straggly ginger hair under a white linen cap. She spoke with the most barbarous accent, but of course being an understairs maid, she was not expected to converse with any civilized members of society so her accent hardly mattered.

Barely fifteen years old, Becky had been hired with the other servants before the family even arrived in London. Yet Sophia had instantly recognised a potential co-conspirator in the scrawny-looking girl, spotting her scrubbing the doorstep early one icy morning, and bribed her with promises of largesse. And so far Becky had proved most useful, a source of local information which none of their Jamaican-born servants would have known – and certainly would never have passed on to their inquisitive young mistress.

Now though the poor girl was looking tortured. Twisting her raw, chapped hands together, Becky shook her head as though refusing to help.

‘Oh Miss, I … I shouldn’t be in your bedchamber like this. Begging your pardon, but I have to go back to my bed in the kitchen. Mrs Trumper would dismiss me on the spot if she was to catch me above stairs without permission!’

‘Then say what you have discovered for me about the Farraway and Lewis wedding, and you may safely depart before Mrs Trumper has a chance to see you.’ When the girl still did not speak, Sophia held out a gold sovereign, balanced on the palm of her hand. ‘Come now, you silly goose. Are you afraid of money?’

‘Oh Miss, the trouble I’d be in,’ Becky moaned, but her eyes had turned glassy now, fixed on the large shiny coin.

‘Tell me first where the Lewis family have their residence, and which establishment has been awarded the dressing of the bride.’ Sophia looked at her sternly. ‘I trust you were able to discover these things?’

‘Yes, Miss. The Lewis family reside in Grosvenor Square, and Made … selle De … Demur is to make the bridal clothes,’ the girl told her, stumbling over the foreign words.

Sophia smiled and handed over the promised sovereign. ‘Excellent. Where is Mademoiselle Demur’s shop?’

‘Salcombe Street, Miss.’

‘And will there be a final fitting this week?’

‘I believe so, Miss, yes,’ Becky said promptly, looking more cheerful now. Shamelessly, the girl bit into the sovereign as though to check it was not false gold, then rubbed it clean on her sleeve and slipped it into her apron pocket. ‘Ten o’clock tomorrow morning, my cousin Daisy said.

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