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“Read the headline please.”

There was a fire at a small school with all 17 people in the building killed.

“You were an assistant there, and were saved due to being away, accompanying a pupil to their home. A lucky chance but it forced you to find a new position, thus you were in London. You did not travel with your family to Canada as you were exposed to someone with a serious disease. This forced you to have to remain as you were in quarantine. The intention was for you to follow as soon as you were released. Everyone was lost at sea and you were left to make your own way.”

“A family friend who took pity on a new orphan?”

“Exactly. You understand the story. Nothing fancy, less is more, and merely making use of a tragedy to ensure there are no further questions. Well there might be questions but no one is available to give any answers.

“Elizabeth Harris was born outside Waltham Abbey, was baptised there, left to emigrate to Canada, but she was orphaned at this young age. She first was a pupil but then assisted at a small school. There was a terrible tragedy and she went south to London seeking a new position.

“All your experiences in northern Hertfordshire have just been transferred over to eastern edge of the same county. You were, are, gentle-born, but were dealing with genteel poverty. Everyone who you meet will know of someone in that situation. It is the nightmare of every woman that her circumstances will suddenly change and she will be forced to make her own way.”

“Do you think it necessary?”

“Yes. It is why I had Lawrence find Elizabeth Harris in the first place. Elizabeth Bennet is dead, but there needs to be a story of how Elizabeth Harris arrived outside my doctor’s office. This is it. From what you told me of your time with your father, you can talk of the school room without a problem. You also know how to deal with servants, and so can talk of straddling that line, of having to assist even although you are gentle-born. All of Harris’ family are dead, drowned in the Atlantic, and everyone at this school is dead, killed by a fire. Both tragedies that happened to others but which we can use to your benefit. There is no one to say that any of this is a lie.”

--

“We cannot delay any longer. I am not ready for this, but there is no other choice.”

And with that Elizabeth, Lady Napier stepped down from her carriage. Harriet Underwood followed and Daisy, that day’s assigned outside maid, brought up the rear.

“Welcome, I am Mrs. Brightstone, the owner of this modiste.”

The well guarded carriage had been observed and the proprietor was ready. Harriet stepped forward seamlessly.

“This is Lady Napier, who has recently come out of mourning. Now that she is here in town, she wishes to freshen up her wardrobe.”

Elizabeth had been given a list of modistes from Lawrence. She did not enquire where he acquired the information. It did make her smile to think of her lawyer wandering up and down New Bond Street. He had ranked the various establishments, and Mrs. Brightstone had a good reputation but not quite of the first rank. She had ambitions though, and having a Baroness as a client would be a feather in her cap.

Elizabeth’s visit to Mrs. Brightstone was followed by a similar visit to Mrs. Quentin’s establishment. She was measured in both places and a new dress was ordered from each. The prospect of additional orders was dangled in front of both.

But Elizabeth was not the only customer shopping that day and both owners were loudly assiduous in addressing her as Lady Napier. Which was the whole point of the exercise in the first place. The other customers made little effort not to stare or listen.

“I never liked dress shopping.”

Harriet Underwood knew very well the strange quirks of her mistress.

“Tomorrow I want you to take the carriage and shop for additional dresses for yourself. Announce yourself as the companion of Lady Napier and that you need to present well. I know that you do enjoy dress shopping so you may indulge at my expense. Get half a dozen new dresses.”

They were in the carriage on the way to Piccadilly.

“Are you sure Lady Napier?”

Harriet was trying not to look delighted.

“Of course. Your penance is that after we have a small bite to eat, I hope to spend the rest of the afternoon browsing at Hatchard’s.”

Harriet knew Elizabeth well enough to know this was not hyperbole. The visit to Hatchard’s was going to be the highlight of the day for Elizabeth.

“I will send a note to Lawrence when we return to Berkeley Square. He will have a young man accompany you tomorrow and he can arrange accounts at both modistes, as well as your own dress shop. We will set up an account at Hatchard’s as well.”

This last was going to be the one with the most transactions.

--

Lunch was more of the same. Harriet did not shout, she did not even speak louder than normal, but a regular conversational tone ensured that those close to their table knew that the pretty young woman sitting opposite her was in fact the notorious Lady Napier.