While inspired by the good works of her own father through his vicarage, Julia realized there was little difference she could make to the lives of the poor who lived in such dreadful areas as the Mint, Devil’s Acre, or the Rookery.
And then, one evening, inspiration struck — or rather, fell to the floor. Naturally, because of Sarah’s new title, Julia had entry into the best houses, rubbing elbows with the wealthiest people, dripping with jewels. When a lady’s earring fell off during a ball in Bloomsbury, right at Julia’s feet, they made eye contact. The jaded female didn’t deign to stoop to pick it up, merely shrugging before continuing to dance. Undoubtedly, a wealthy parent or paramour would provide her with another.
Julia hadn’t minded stooping, and did so quickly before the earring disappeared midst the many slippered and booted feet. Examining her prize, she walked slowly back to the edge of the room. Sarah, wearing black crape near the end of her year of mourning, had agreed to chaperone.
Julia realized she held in her hand a diamond and an emerald in a silver setting.Amazing!
“What have you there?” Sarah had asked.
“An earring.” Julia held out her palm to show her.
“Oh dear. I wonder if we can find the owner.”
“I know who the owner is, and she doesn’t want it.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Her sister had frowned.
After all, who in their right mind could imagine such foolishness?
“I mean exactly that — the spoiled lady turned her nose up at claiming her eardrop because it was on the floor. Can you imagine such an indulgent creature?”
“I cannot,” her sister confessed.
And then an idea had come into Julia’s head. There was probably an abundance of baubles and dazzlers the wealthy neither cared about, nor needed. And if Julia could only skim a few of those and find someone to buy them from her, then she could help the poor after all. While she couldn’t provide jobs or housing, she might be able to give them the means to eat for a week and pay rent for a month.
Taking a page from John Major’sHistory of Greater Britain, she’d decided to become a female Robin Hood. Locating a shop in Manchester Square with the traditional sign of three gold balls, signifying the business of the pawnbroker, she’d entered to find an air of desperation. It was a place where some went as a last effort when all other means to secure loans or coin had failed.
Stepping forward between the useful privacy screens dividing customers at the counter, she sold the single earring easily for a modest sum. She would have received more for a pair, but still, the broker would take the stones out of the setting and sell them separately, and sell the silver to a smith to be reworked.
It was so easy, Julia wondered why many seemed to end up in Newgate jail. That small beginning had been two months earlier, and so far, she’d done well at this lark.
“Still abed?” her sister asked her, looking good-humored that morning, as she picked up a ribbon-tied posy from the chest of drawers.
Sarah was developing atendrefor a certain viscount, and Julia was happy for her. She would be even happier if her sister wasn’t always insisting that she, herself, find a dashing man of her own. The single men at the balls and parties were all eager enough to meet the sister of a countess, and just as eager to run the other way when they learned she was but a vicar’s daughter with no dowry to speak of.
Nevertheless, Julia was out in society. And society had a lot of jewelry!
“It was an exciting evening with Mr. Furley and his mother,” she said, sitting up and stretching. The curtains were open, and a watery sunlight was playing across her rose-colored counterpane.
“Hm.Exciting was it?” Sarah asked. “Yet Mr. Dawson said you came home in a hackney.”
Why did the blasted butler have to say anything at all?Julia wondered.
“Yes, so what of it?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You know very well the rules. You cannot abandon your escort and chaperone and run around as you please. This isnotChislehurst.”
“I know. But that viscountess! She kept looking at me as if I had designs on her precious son. He should be so fortunate!”
Sarah laughed. “True. He would be a fortunate man if you bestowed your affection upon him. I take it that was not the case. A wasted evening, was it?”
Julia thought of her encounter in Marshfield’s bedroom and smiled.
“What is that devilish look for?” her sister asked. “What happened?”
Swinging her feet over the side of her bed, she yawned.
“Nothing really. But the Earl of Marshfield is quite a rum duke. You didn’t warn me.”
