The Discerning Gentleman's Guide. Virginia Heath

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       Chapter Four

      The perfect young lady never, ever leaves her chaperon...

      Amelia’s bedchamber faced strategically outwards onto Berkeley Square, so it was easy to judge when the coast was clear. Lady Worsted and the Dowager were safely in their carriage bound for Bond Street and would not be home until late afternoon. She had seen Sir George leave a good hour earlier, cutting quite a dash as he walked out of the square, bound for his club. She had not seen him at all today, but she had heard his carriage leave at an ungodly hour, so she presumed that she now had the entire place to herself—give or take about forty servants.

      Feeling a bubble of excitement, she hauled her old clothes out of the bottom of her trunk. Finally, she was able to go and visit her old friends at the soup kitchen.

      A few minutes later and her transformation was complete. The presentable Miss Amelia Mansfield, gentlewoman’s companion, was gone and plain old Amelia stared back at her from the looking glass. The familiar outfit brought back a whole host of unwelcome memories—hunger, cold, tiredness, hopelessness—but it also gave her strength. She was more than these old clothes, always had been and always would be, but at least now she could use them to help others suffering from the dreadful disease known as poverty.

      Judging the back door to be the best exit for a woman who looked like she did, Amelia hurried down the ornate staircase and darted back towards the kitchen. With any luck, nobody would see her.

      ‘Miss Mansfield?’

      Lovett, the butler, appeared out of nowhere and regarded her with open curiosity. There was nothing for it; Amelia had to explain her appearance. Sort of.

      ‘I am off to do some charitable work with the poor.’

      The butler looked her up and down, taking in the shabby grey dress that had been washed once too often, the ratty woollen shawl and the old and scuffed boots. ‘Are you sure? If you go to help them looking like that, they might take pity on you and offer you charity instead.’

      His face might be deadpan, but his tone was definitely sarcastic. Even so, for some reason Amelia was certain that she had found herself an ally. ‘Where I am going, people are suspicious of fine clothes.’

      ‘Then I am not altogether sure that I approve of you going there. Where is this place you can only go dressed like a vagabond?’

      She seriously considered lying but already knew that the wily butler would immediately become suspicious and might well send a footman to follow her. ‘Covent Garden.’ It was almost the truth.

      One of Lovett’s eyebrows quirked upwards. ‘Who would require your charitable efforts there? The market traders perhaps? Or one of the theatre owners? I doubt the brothels or gaming hells need the help of a gently bred young lady.’ He tapped one foot impatiently and Amelia found herself squirming in the intensity of his gaze.

      ‘If you must know, I am going to help out in a soup kitchen in the Church of St Giles.’

      The butler’s reaction was instantaneous and quite explosive. ‘Seven Dials! The most degenerate slum in the entire city? Are you quite mad, Miss Mansfield? His Grace will hit the roof if he finds out that I allowed you to head to the Rookery!’

      ‘Please don’t tell the Duke, I beg you. I can assure you that I shall be perfectly safe, Lovett. I know the people there and they know me.’

      Unsurprisingly, he did not look convinced. ‘Seven Dials is filled with criminals. Thieves and crooks the lot of them.’

      ‘Which is exactly why I shall be perfectly safe there, dressed like this,’ she said reasonably. ‘Nobody has anything worth stealing and all of the thieves and crooks go to Mayfair or Bond Street to practise their trade.’

      Lovett’s mouth opened to correct her and then closed as he regarded her quietly. ‘I have never thought of it like that. I suppose you might be right—but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to let you go there alone. Soup or no soup. His Grace will have a fit. You are not to leave the house.’

      ‘I am a grown woman and it is my afternoon off to spend exactly where I so choose. Like you, I am a servant. I doubt anyone tries to tell you what you can and cannot do in your free time. At least I am using mine for a good cause. It will be much easier for both of us if you keep it to yourself.’

      The butler watched her for several seconds and, to her complete surprise, acquiesced immediately. ‘Very well. Just this once I shall keep it between us. But I shall expect you home well before it gets dark or I will tell His Grace and then there will be hell to pay.’

      Relieved that he had relented so easily, Amelia beamed at him. ‘Thank you, Lovett. I shall be back by four. I promise.’

      ‘Will you be coming in through the back door, Miss Mansfield?’ When she nodded he smiled and gestured her to the passageway behind the kitchen. ‘This is the door to the servants’ stairs. Go up two flights and veer left. The third door brings you right out near your bedchamber.’ That confirmed it. He was her ally. Amelia stood on tiptoe and kissed the man on the cheek.

      * * *

      Seven Dials looked exactly like it had when she had left it a year before. The narrow streets were still filthy, the doss houses and dwellings were still barely fit for the rats to live in and the dank smell of despair permeated everything. As she had predicted, nobody gave her a second glance in her ragged clothes, although one or two did СКАЧАТЬ