Runaway Miss. Mary Nichols

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      It was three in the morning before she went to her bed, but even so Rose was waiting to help her to undress. Rose was sturdy, clean and tidy, with light brown hair pulled back into her cap and a neat waist encircled by a snowy apron over a grey cambric dress. ‘I shall miss you when you go, Rose,’ she said, as the girl helped her out of her ball gown.

      ‘And I shall miss you, my lady.’

      ‘Do you like being a lady’s maid?’ she asked, watching Rose deftly fold the gown and lay it carefully in the chest at the foot of her bed.

      ‘Oh, yes, my lady, it is cut above other house servants.’

      ‘What is it like?’

      ‘Like, my lady?’ Rose queried, puzzled. ‘Why, you know my duties as well as I do.’

      ‘I did not mean your duties, I meant the life, how you feel about it. Do you not hate being at someone’s beck and call all the time?’

      ‘We all have to work, my lady, unless we’re gentlefolk, that is, and I would as lief work as a lady’s maid as anything else. You have a certain standing among the others. If you have a good mistress such as you are, my lady, you are treated kindly, fed and clothed and paid well, and there are the perks. You often give me gowns you have tired of and when you are from home and do not need me, I have only light duties such as cleaning and pressing your clothes and tidying your room…’

      Emma managed a light laugh, though she felt more like weeping. ‘Oh, I know I am not the tidiest person in the world.’ She paused. ‘But don’t you resent being given orders?’

      ‘No, why should I? It is the way of things.’

      ‘But if they go counter to your own inclinations?’

      ‘My inclinations, my lady, do not count. But why are you asking all these questions?’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know. It is because you are leaving me, I suppose. And I wonder how I shall manage without you.’

      ‘Your mama will find you someone else.’

      ‘No doubt, but it won’t be the same. And what makes it worse is that my stepfather has found a husband for me…’ She paused while Rose undid her petticoats, picking them up when she kicked them off. ‘He is the most odious man imaginable and how am I to bear it without you?’

      ‘I am sorry, Miss Emma, indeed I am. If I could help you, I would.’

      But it was not Rose or her replacement who filled her thoughts when her nightgown was pulled over her head and she settled between the sheets, but the dilemma she faced over Lord Bentwater. She lay wide awake, going over and over in her mind what had happened, wondering what it was that made her stepfather so anxious she should obey him. It had to be money; Lord Bentwater had as good as told her so. Could she buy her way out? But she did not have the spending of her money and her trustees would take the advice of Sir George, especially if her mother agreed with him. Mama would not dare to defy him. Rose’s words—‘my inclinations…do not count’—came back to her. It certainly seemed to be true of the mistress at that moment.

      She could run away, but that would break her mother’s heart; besides, if she just disappeared, Mama would have half the ton out looking for her, not to mention Runners and constables and it would not be fair to worry her so. And it would make no difference in the long run; she would be hauled back in disgrace and she was quite sure it would not put Lord Bentwater off, for hadn’t Sir George said the man enjoyed a challenge? It was almost dawn before she fell into a restless sleep and then her dreams were of huge black spiders and struggling in a sticky web from which she could not escape.