Page 55 of Aurelia

Aurelia felt a stab of jealousy at the sound of his name. What right did she have to be jealous? Lord Crewe did not belong to her; he did not even want to be near her.

And yet she could not stop herself from asking, “How has Lord Crewe been helpful?”

“Some of the villagers, led by the vicar, wanted to eject us and our former governess, Miss Pomeroy, who leases this house—how do you like your tea, Miss Burton?” she broke off to ask.

“A little milk if you have it, otherwise black is fine.”

Miss Clifford brought her the cup.

“Thank you,” Aurelia said, and then took a sip of tea, silently willing the woman to continue her story.

Miss Clifford sat down, took a drink, and gave a happy sigh. “Now, where was—oh, yes, Lord Crewe put a stop to the vicar’s nastiness by reminding them that he owned all the land everyone in the area lives on. Not just this house, but all of theirs, too.” She laughed. “That put a stop to that particular persecution. But enough about me. Where do you call home, Miss Burton?”

Aurelia had debated long and hard whether to confess her identity and had decided that if she truly wanted to show solidarity, there was nothing like sharing her secret.”

“I, too, have come here to escape an unfortunate family situation.”

Miss Clifford’s cup stopped midway to her mouth. “Really?” And then she laughed. “Listen to me! So quick to pry, even given my own situation.”

“You are not prying. I want to tell you. Burton is not my real name. My father is the Earl of Addiscombe.”

Miss Clifford’s eyebrows shot comically high. “I thought you were exceedingly well-spoken and genteel, but I must admit I wasn’t expecting that. And you have come here incognita as it were?”

“Yes. While my father is not as notorious as yours, he has managed to make mine and my siblings’ lives quite unpleasant.” Aurelia took a deep breath and commenced to share the sordid details of her father’s gambling and their family’s gradual fall from grace.

“And so,” Aurelia said, about five minutes later, “when this position became available, and Lord Crewe did not care that I was a female, it seemed the perfect opportunity to strike out on my own.”

Miss Clifford’s eyes sparkled with admiration. “You decided to take your life into your own hands and earn a living—even though you’ve essentially been disowned. How brave you are!”

“My situation is not nearly so fraught as yours.” Aurelia hesitated. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your plans when you reach London?”

Miss Clifford’s shoulders slumped. “I am not sure what I will do. All but my youngest sister—who is only seventeen—are employed, if not exactly happily, then at least gainfully. Not surprisingly, our mother’s cousins in London refused to publicly acknowledge us, but they offered my sister Penelope a position in one of their flower shops, which was generous as the only thing we were all raised to do was marry well. And now we cannot even do that to salvage our futures.”

Aurelia knew that was the truth. No peer in Britain would want to align himself with the disgraced daughters of the Earl of Daventry. Even social aspirants of the merchant class would avoid the sisters.

“I would like to help you,” Aurelia said.

“That is kind. But how can you?”

“I have a friend who owns a school for young ladies in London. If I had not been able to secure work as a painter, I was planning to join her as a teacher. She might have already filled the position, but I will write to her as soon as I am back on Crewe and recommend you to her if you like.”

“What parent would want their child taught by me?”

“I think you might need to do something… dishonest.”

“You think I should lie about who I am—even to my employer?” Miss Clifford’s expression was disapproving.

Aurelia smiled. “Yes. Just as I have done.”

Miss Clifford’s face fell. “Oh, I am sorry! I did not mean—”

“Do not apologize. It is regrettable that we are forced to hide who we are. I am not ashamed of the lies I’ve told to secure this position. Women of our class have so few options, Miss Clifford. And the truth is that you cannot outrun your father’s shame anywhere in Britain. You will have to falsify a past to have any future.”

Miss Clifford took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “You are right, Miss Burton. Please do write to your friend on my behalf. I am very grateful for any help you can offer.”

Aurelia only hoped it would be enough.

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