The memory of her greatest mistake nudged into her thoughts; with ease borne of practice, she pushed it aside just as quickly. She was no longer that ignorant, stupid girl, susceptible to a rake’s advances. Through her reformatory efforts, she’d gained control over her impulses…most of the time.
During her marriage, there’d been times when her Goode impulses became too strong. When she’d yearned for more than a chaste peck on the cheek, the polite bidding goodnight before her husband doused the lights. Over the years, she’d discovered furtive, disgraceful ways to tend to her own needs. Her wantonness shamed her, a continuing reminder that she would never be a true lady.
She shoved aside the ignominious fact and forced a smile. It came out as more of a grimace, but it was better than her initial urge. Screaming in frustration was never becoming. She smoothed out the letter she’d crumpled on the counter.
“I’ve received another letter from the creditors,” she said.
Patty arched her brows. “How bad is it?”
A respectable lady does not indulge in an excessive display of emotion.
“It’s not the best news,” Maggie hedged.
Patty came over to the front counter. She’d been cleaning out the backroom, which was crammed with objects Paul had squirreled away over the years. Her purpose had been to salvage any items of value that could be sold to keep the shop afloat. If the rusty sword and skull (Monkey?Maggie wondered) she held were any indication, Foley’s Emporium was sunk.
Patty set the objects down on the counter with a clunk. “Have they given you a deadline?”
Maggie chewed on her lip. “I have until the end of the month to settle the debts.”
Debts she hadn’t even known existed until she’d received a visit from a creditor after Paul’s death. Unbeknownst to her, Paul had leveraged Foley’s in order to invest in a mining scheme. The scheme had come to naught, and now she had to pay five hundred pounds or she would lose the shop. Her sole means of supporting herself and her family.
She tried to calm the flutter of panic.
“My brother didn’t exactly leave his affairs in order, did he?” Patty muttered.
Maggie secretly agreed…and felt a stab of guilt. How could she be so disloyal? If it hadn’t been for Paul’s kindness, she would have wound up an unwed mother with a bastard child. He’d saved her from disgrace, given her a life better than any she could have imagined. She was Mrs. Hippolytus Foley, the widow of a gentleman, and her daughter Glory was a bright, educated girl.
Maggie owed all of that to her husband. Shehadto make a success of Foley’s Emporium, which had been his dream and life’s work. Not to mention the source of her family’s livelihood.
“We’ll make it work somehow,” she said resolutely.
“The motto of women since the beginning of time.” Patty’s tone was dry. “We’d have a better go of it if that blighter Bill Bancroft wasn’t poaching our customers. Worse than a thief in the night, he is.”
Maggie agreed with Patty’s assessment. The owner of a competing business, Bancroft had tried to buy Foley’s Emporium before Paul’s body had even grown cold. When Maggie had refused the paltry offer, Bancroft had proceeded on a campaign to put Maggie out of business. He’d spread rumors that, without Paul at the helm, Foley’s would no longer be able to carry out the fossil finding expeditions for which it was known.
This was rubbish, of course. Given Paul’s progressive ailment, he hadn’t been able to explore the caves for years. Instead, he’d taught Maggie the tricks of the trade, and she’d been the one who’d done the fossil hunting, the one who’d discovered the complete plesiosaurus skeleton that had brought Foley’s to the attention of avid aristocratic collectors.
She had given the credit to her husband, but Bancroft knew the truth for he’d seen her exploring the caves on her own. Yet he continued to spread the lies. Because Maggie was a woman, the patrons believed him. They’d begun to jump ship like panicked rats, taking their money with them.
May that bastard Bancroft rot in hell.
Drat…that was her second blasphemy. And in less than ten minutes.
She composed herself by fiddling with the bouquet on the counter. For years, she’d livened up the shop with her arrangements. Her small, cheery bouquets were made up of blooms she’d picked from her garden or foraged from the wild, as Paul had deemed buying flowers a needless expense.
Since his death, she hadn’t had time to tend to her garden. Nonetheless, she’d managed to find some silky yellow gorse, winter honeysuckle, and fragrant sprigs of pink wood calamint in the fields by her cottage. She’d added some fresh foliage and wound an old ribbon around the plain glass jar that served as a vase.
It was a small thing, but the simple beauty of the bouquet calmed her.
“Once our patrons realize that Bancroft doesn’t know a fossil from a farthing, they’ll come back,” she said. “And we haven’t lost all of our clients. Don’t forget that our most valued one is due to pay a visit next week.”
“If only Icouldforget.” Hypatia sighed. “Of all the clients that had to stay on board, why did it have to be that cheeseparer?”
“Mr. Pickering-Parks is a favored patron of this establishment,” Maggie said primly.
“Seeing as he’s ouronlyremaining patron, I suppose that’s no lie.”
The bell over the door jingled. Maggie’s business-woman’s heart beat faster. Acustomer.
