“How scandalous you both make it sound,” the duchess said with a laugh. “Miss Waverly, a year agoParnassuspublished a story about my family. We continued leaving my patronage unmentioned lest some think the revelations were not complete due to my involvement. I am sure you understand.”
“I would think you could forever leave it unmentioned if you choose. It is really no one else’s affair.”
“It is past time to claim ownership, I think. I am very proud ofParnassus. Oh, how I miss the excitement of creating the first issues with Althea—Mrs. Galbreath—just the two of us, finding the contributors, rushing to the press, begging the booksellers to give it a try—” She smiled warmly at Mrs. Galbreath. “You do better alone than we did together, Althea. The idea was mine, but the success was always yours.”
Mrs. Galbreath blushed. “You are too generous, and hardly accurate.”
“Not too generous, but also not accurate,” Lady Farnsworth pronounced. “It was always a collective endeavor, and should be known as such. Women who band together can achieve anything.”
“And now you will endeavor with us,” Mrs. Galbreath said to Amanda. “I know you will be a great help.”
Amanda hoped so. She liked these women, although she found it odd that she sat now with a duchess and the widow of a baron and the sister of an earl. Odder yet that they treated her like an equal even though she would really only be an employee once removed.
She looked around the little group while all of the women, even Mrs. Clark, began discussing the journal’s next issue. Friends, all of them. A sisterhood, the duchess said.
After fifteen minutes, she excused herself. Mrs. Galbreath escorted her to the door.
“I was quite serious about your joining us, Miss Waverly,” she said. “This house is a club, and you are welcome as a member. There will be a little vote after you are gone, but it is clear how it will go. You are to think of this as your second home and visit should you choose to when you are in this area of town.”
“A club? Like men have? I am grateful but must decline. There are fees and—”
“We have members who do not pay fees. No one ever knows so it is not as if you would be seen as different.”
“That is very kind of you. I doubt I will have much occasion to avail myself of this wonderful gift, but I appreciate it.”
Mrs. Galbreath cocked her head. “It is not a gift. Your help with the journal will far surpass what most members contribute. You should definitely be a member. It is only right and fair.”
Amanda’s amazement passed by the time she descended the steps to the street, and was replaced by the overwhelming sense that she had begun to be two people. One Amanda sat with fine ladies and agreed to help them with a journal.
The other Amanda intended to allow a man to seduce her in order to have the opportunity to commit a crime that could get her hanged.
* * *
That evening when Amanda returned to her home, she ladled soup out of the pot always simmering on its hook in the hearth. She cut some bread and sat down at her small, rustic table to have her supper. Lady Farnsworth always fed her a main meal at midday. That went far toward helping her stretch her money.
After her meal, she gazed into the fire while she garnered her courage to read the most recent letter. It had been at Peterson’s Print Shop when she’d stopped by this evening. Her mother had used that mail drop for years and, upon learning Amanda was going to London, had written that she should simply make use of the same name so her mother could write to her there.
She removed the letter from her reticule. Addressed to Mrs. Bootlescamp, it showed her mother’s hand.
It is not my intention to vex or upset you, but he grows impatient. I have explained to him that this new request is far more complicated than the first, and possibly not even achievable. I have not seen you in almost ten years, and depending on how you grew, the physical demands, should there be any, may well exceed your current abilities.
I regret to report that he is unmoved by my arguments. Even now, as he reads this over my shoulder, he objects that you dally deliberately.
Forgive me, Amanda, for expecting so much from you when I allowed you to expect almost nothing from me. Please leave a note once you have it, the same as last time. Use our mail drop, but put Mr. Pettibone on the letter.
He grew impatient, did he? It set her teeth grinding that an unknown and unseen man could impose on her life like this.
Not that Mama was blameless. Oh, she did not mind that her mother expected much. She did resent the inescapable conclusion that the only reason her mother could find herself at this man’s mercy was if her mother had tried to steal from him. Also, this man would never have known about her daughter if Mama had not told him in a bid to save herself.
He was a wealthy adversary. Mama never bothered stealing from anyone else. Wealthy and perhaps powerful. Maybe the kind of man who could see a thief was shown no mercy and hanged.
She laughed at herself, bitterly. It was what her family did, wasn’t it? Her parents had been cleverer than most thieves, but that was all they were. Highly sophisticated, extremely bold thieves.
It was also what they had taught her to be.
She put the letter in a drawer in a small table. Then she set quite different garments from those of last night on her bed. She removed her dress and donned them. She would go out again tonight, but first she needed to practice.
She did not know if she still had the physical ability to execute her plan. She would not know until she actually tried it. However, she could at least work at making success more likely than not. She had not forgotten her training, although she no longer thought it a game the way she had when a child.
