My regards,
Mrs. Eliza Worth
Widow of Reverend Frederick Worth
“She wants more detail,” Catherine said, after reading the reply.
She and Eurydice Montgomery were in Catherine’s father’s office at Carruthers & Carruthers. Catherine had retreated there with the portfolio returned from Mrs. North, having recognized it immediately. Eurydice had arrived shortly thereafter, purportedly seeking a new book. In truth, she had visited the shop daily since they had heard of Miss Ballantyne’s arrest. The floor vibrated with the beat of the printing presses so there was little chance of their conversation being overheard, but the women kept their voices low all the same.
“Of course, she does,” Eurydice replied. “Miss Ballantyne is always right about such matters.”
They looked as one at the sheaf of pages the lady in question had surrendered to them when last they had seen her.
“Have you shown them to your father?” Eurydice asked.
“Not yet,” Catherine admitted. “I showed them to Rhys and he was greatly entertained by their content.” She felt her cheeks heat, for he had also been determined to try some of the suggestions provided there.
Eurydice smiled, clearly reading her thoughts.
“I would have a lady’s view before presenting them to my father, the better to argue my case,” Catherine continued.
“Here is your opportunity.”
“Should we send them all? She might be overwhelmed by the detail.”
“She is a widow, and she has consoled women married to returning soldiers. I cannot imagine that any intimate detail will surprise her.”
Catherine nodded and put the newer sheets into the portfolio. “I suppose I will have to feign Mrs. Oliver’s hand again.”
“You did it very well,” Eurydice said cheerfully.
But Catherine barely heard her friend’s words, for she was astonished to spot a new arrival at her father’s shop. At first glimpse, it appeared that Mrs. Oliver had come Carruthers & Carruthers, though that was impossible while Miss Ballantyne was incarcerated. Catherine led the way from the office, portfolio in hand, Eurydice fast behind. “Mrs. Oliver! How might we be of assistance?”
On closer scrutiny, there was something not quite right about that woman’s appearance. It was Mrs. Oliver, yet not quite. Could Mrs. Oliver have an imposter? That any person should disguise herself under a disguise was difficult to believe.
The woman who appeared to be Mrs. Oliver looked up, her eyes gleaming, and made her way toward Catherine. “I should say so! Have you my books?” she demanded, her voice rising above the subdued sounds of conversation in the shop. “Has service improved in this establishment, or are matters as slack as ever they were?” The barest ghost of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she dropped a parcel onto the counter. “And I can only hope that the quality of your offerings has improved. The pages fell right out of these volumes most recently borrowed by me. Such workmanship is appalling.”
Catherine opened the satchel and smiled in relief to see the number of handwritten pages within. Whoever this woman was, she had been in contact with Miss Ballantyne—who evidently was well enough to continue with her book.
“And yet, you return as regularly as the sun rises in the east, Mrs. Oliver,” she said sweetly. “We are honored by your custom.”
“And so you should be, Miss Carruthers,” she replied, her imitation so good that Eurydice snorted audibly.
This had to be the actress who had aided Miss Ballantyne with the disguise in the first place.
However she had come by these pages, Catherine was vastly relieved.
Helena’s visit to the dressmaker with Mrs. North might have been a military mission for all the precision of its execution. They did not even use the duke’s large carriage, but a small one, and the handsome footman who had smiled at her the previous evening was not with them.
Helena had a feeling Mrs. Worth had ensured that.
She could have endured all of this, if they had not progressed so quickly that she might miss the planned encounter with Mr. Melbourne. She could not bear it if she lost the opportunity to see him again! She had planned the meeting with care and it might all go awry. Mrs. Worth seemed bent upon collecting the dress with haste and returning Helena to her aunt’s house with speed. Indeed, the older woman appeared to be distracted by some other concern.
Until the carriage halted at the dressmaker’s shop and the door was opened by none other than Nicholas. Helena watched Mrs. North’s expression light and guessed that there were other reasons for that lady undertaking this task.
Then she saw her brother’s hard expression. His disapproval was fixed upon her. Helena forgot Mrs. North in the face of greater concerns.
If Nicholas was angry, she could lose her sole ally in all the world and that could not be endured. She would say whatever was necessary to placate him, whether it was true or not.
