What did he need money for? He’d saved enough of his own over the years. Besides, the Nightingales would fall into trouble the minute he left them.
The thought of living without them wasn’t one he ever wanted to contemplate because he and his family were estranged, and if he didn’t have the Nightingales, he didn’t have anyone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eliza Downing looked around the small room that had been her home for the past two years. It held the narrow bed she’d shared with her friend, a chipped washbasin on a wobbling stand, and a battered trunk that held all their clothes if they packed carefully. The small window was curtained with a length of bright red material Sylvie had brought home from work, its edges neatly hemmed, the color far too bold for the rest of the drab furnishings.
They’d made it as comfortable as they could, with folded shawls for extra pillows and a rag rug by the bed to keep bare feet from freezing on winter mornings. But for Eliza, most of the comfort came from the woman seated in the room’s only chair, lacing her feet into her boots.
Eliza picked upThe Holton Agency Etiquette Manual,the book she’d read through yet again last night, and placed it in her bag. Eliza had memorized the lists of rules, not wanting to jeopardize her employment in any way.
“Sylvie, have you ever had reason to doubt the Holton Agency?”
Small with elfin features and a determined chin, Sylviehad the kind of beauty that made people look twice and the kind of personality that made them think, also twice, before crossing her. To Eliza, she was the strongest, most wonderful person she’d met since the day she’d lost her family.
“Not really?—”
“Which means what?”
“That I haven’t until recently. Mrs. Holton has been quite rude and dismissive to me. She told me she was sending me to the Nightingales, as no one else would work with such a family.”
Eliza remembered the conversation and wasn’t sure how she’d gotten on the wrong side of the woman.
“What’s wrong with the family? I thought you said they were lovely during the interview,” Sylvie demanded.
“They were, but apparently there was a scandal many years ago. Mrs. Holton wouldn’t go into details.”
“Why didn’t you ask her what you’d done if she was being rude to you?” Sylvie asked.
“Because I need work, and I did not want to annoy her further. I will take anything at the moment.”
“I think that the questions they asked were too personal when we first joined Holton’s,” Sylvie added. “Like, do you have any family and do you have a suitor?”
Eliza nodded. “Which is why you lied about Tommy.”
“Yes, especially after Heather Blackwell told me they dismissed her from their books, and the only reason she could come up with is that she’s engaged.”
“Surely not.” Eliza was horrified. “I don’t understand why that should matter.”
Sylvie shrugged. “She was right upset.”
“I like Heather.”
“Me too. Now, enough about that. You need to get moving, as it’s your first day.”
“I will miss you, Sylvie,” Eliza said quietly.
“Now don’t go getting teary-eyed,” her friend said briskly. “It’s not forever. You’ll go play nursemaid to those Nightingales, I’ll finish this commission for Mrs. Renton’s shop, and when we’re both done, we’ll go to the country and find a nice little place to settle. Chickens, apple trees, and no landlords who glare at us as if we’ve dragged muck in on our boots.”
“You’ll be wed to Tommy, with children, by then,” Eliza said, attempting lightness.
“Then you can live with us,” Sylvie declared. “Tommy can build another room onto the back. He’s handy, my Tommy. Or we’ll put you in the attic and call you our mysterious lodger. It will be terribly romantic.”
Eliza smiled. It tugged at something in her chest, that easy certainty Sylvie had that there could be a future with rooms added on and apple trees and enough bread for everyone, when she knew different. Happy-ever-afters weren’t for Eliza. Once, perhaps, but no more.
Sylvie Cooper had been her friend for two years now, ever since they’d met at Holton’s Agency on a bitter, cold morning.
Sylvie, a seamstress, had arrived clutching a parcel of references and wearing a blue dress that had seen far better days. Eliza had been there to answer an advertisement for a nursery maid in Kensington, her gloves darned so many times, the patches were nearly more thread than original fabric.
