Disappointment settled on her like a blanket, but it was not a refusal. “Thank you.” Desirous to keep this meeting on good terms, she stepped back. “I left my direction with your secretary.”
She quit the home and traveled to the employment office in Covent Garden. She’d perusedThe Timesthat morning, finding nothing particularly of note, but Mrs. Spencer had recommended the office as a possible location for finding work. She would settle for being a governess if she must, but more than anything, she just wished to be doingsomething.
But the employment office only had active postings for servants or specialized work she was incapable of, so she returned home more dejected than she’d started, struggling to keep her chin and spirits up.
They fairly plummeted when Mrs. Spencer informed her that Mr. Langford was dining out. She’d offered to send a tray up for Sophie’s dinner, which Sophie accepted with gratitude, however subdued.
Perhaps the next day would show promise.
Chapter Six
It did not. Nor the day after. Two days bled together, with Sophie holding to her dream by her very fingertips. She could push Mr. Whitcomb no more, but neither could she trespass on Andrew’s hospitality if she was making no progress. By the second evening of Andrew’s late arrival and stilted conversation, she began to wish that she would hear from Whitcomb, even if it was negative, purely for a direction.
She was entirely useless, a layabout. And she despised feeling unproductive.
Had she made a mistake? It was not the first time she had wondered that very thing, but the question seemed to have taken up residence in her mind now—had brought a trunk, begun to unpack, and was clearly settling in for the long haul.
Her chest was strangely tight, her fingers buzzing with all the movement her future lacked.
She pushed out a breath, leaning her forehead against the glass of her bedchamber’s window that looked out over the courtyard garden. It was a beautiful view, but she did not see any of it. She was useless in her personal life, yes, but could she be useful here? How could she repay the debt she was accruing toward Andrew and his family?
Perhaps the housekeeper would have an idea for her. It was almost embarrassing to ask, but she absolutely could not sit here for the next fortnight, twiddlingher thumbs. Maybe the butler could procure that morning’s newspaper again, and she could see if there was a miraculous opportunity there.
There will be none,a small voice murmured in her mind.It took you years to find this opportunity.
Sophie gritted her teeth against her own pessimism. It had no place here.
Striding from the room with pretended confidence, she made for Mrs. Spencer’s domain.
The home was well-furnished and bespoke the Langfords’ wealth without being opulent. Sophie knew from her upbringing how well-to-do the Langfords were, though they had not always been that way. Andrew’s grandfather had made his fortune—though that term was used in the loosest of terms—in shipping, and had managed the transition from middle class to gentry quite smoothly. And Andrew’s father had solidified their place in society when she was not yet out of the nursery through a handful of very commendable investments. At this point, they were nearly the foremost family in the neighborhood. Mother had loved Mrs. Langford—though that might have been more for how well-connected they were.
And now Mrs. Langford was gone. Sophie’s heart pinched at that, and at the reminder of how Andrew’s face had crumpled when he spoke of it. Was that what had changed him from the man she had known? How very much Sophie had missed by chasing after her dreams—by running away from her duties. She had not even heard from her own mother for years; likely, the woman was too despondent at Sophie’s lack of a future to bother with her present.
She would have loved for things to be different with her family, but she’d about reached the end of her allowance for self-centered despondency. It was time for action.
She found the housekeeper in the kitchen, speaking with the cook.
“Oh, Ms. Sophie, were you in need of something?” she asked, spotting her hovering in the doorway.
Ms. Sophie. Her mouth lifted at the reminder of how her youngest class of students had always referred to her. How she missed them. They would be learning geometry this month—hopefully, little Eloise would get the supportshe needed from Sophie’s replacement. And someone would need to keep Grace well in hand. The young woman far preferred her daydreams to mathematics.
“Nuncheon will be ready in just an hour, miss, but I may have something to hold you over,” the cook offered.
Sophie shook herself from her recollections and smiled at them both. “Thank you, but an hour will be perfect. I only had a quick question for Mrs. Spencer.”
The housekeeper showed no outward sign of surprise, but followed Sophie into the hall.
“What can I do for you, Ma’am?” Mrs. Spencer asked.
“I meant to ask you the same, actually. I am very grateful to Mr. Langford for allowing me to stay here for a time, and I would like to help him in some way. I haven’t the foggiest how to go about that, though, and hoped you might help me?”
The woman’s brows lifted. Drat, this had been a terrible idea—forget optimism and being productive. Perhaps she would just hide away in her rooms, praying that a letter came from the Whitcomb project.
“That is very kind of you, Ma’am, but I cannot—well, I suppose…”
Sophie jumped at the crack in Mrs. Spencer’s disapproval. “Yes?”
“Mr. Langford generally takes lunch to work, but has neglected to the last several days. I thought to send Bess with it today, but if you would like…?” She appeared immensely skeptical, but Sophie clapped her hands together.
