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Keeping their organization surreptitious while discreetly recruiting new members required careful strategy. Even so, the current members had decided during their last meeting that the time had come to expand the group’s membership.
“You look very fetching. Is that a new gown?” Not waiting for Roxina’s answer, Georgine threw her arms around her in an enthusiastic hug. The letter crinkled in protest, and as she drew away, Georgine cast the smudged rectangle a speculative glance. “Another one?”
Pursing her mouth, Roxina nodded as she stepped aside to let Georgine enter the cottage.
“Anonymous, I presume?” Georgine motioned toward the missive as she swept past Roxina.
Roxina nodded again, “Unless there is a signature inside, which I highly doubt.”
There had not been so far.
After closing the door, she swiftly cracked the red wax seal.
Just as she suspected.
Several crisp notes lay wrapped in a plain piece of foolscap and not a hint whence it came.
“I think Aubriella has been up to mischief again.” She glanced upward and met Georgine’s puzzled gaze.
Georgine shook her head, her dark hair bouncing with her vehemence as she pointed at the notes with her gloved finger.
“That is not from Aubriella, Roxina.”
If not Aubriella, then who?
“In fact, when we spoke a couple of days ago,” Georgine said, “she expressed deep concern regarding who is sending you funds. Neither of us believes it is your brother.”
“That thought never crossed my mind.” Mitchel would sooner see her starve than send her a shilling. His past behavior proved that.
Georgine pulled off her gloves. “It could be misinterpreted if the wrong people were to learn of it, Zina.”
Only Roxina’s dearest friends called her by her nickname.
Not entirely certain she appreciated being the object of their discussion, but understanding Aubriella and Georgine only did so because they cared, Roxina raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Living alone here and receiving regular funds rather does…” Obviously disconcerted, Georgine bit her lower lip before blurting, “…make you appear like a kept woman.”
Roxina stiffened.
A kept woman?
Surely not!
The very suggestion sent a bolt of indignation through her. She had worked too hard and sacrificed too much to have her independence so callously misconstrued.
“That is utterly ridiculous,” she scoffed, folding her arms. “Anyone who knows me would never assume such a thing.”
Her expression tinged with sympathy, Georgine sighed.
“Unfortunately, it is not about what those who know you think, Zina—it is about those who do not. Gossip thrives on assumptions, and an unmarried lady of modest means receiving anonymous funds?” She lifted a delicate shoulder. “It is bound to raise suspicions.”
Roxina exhaled sharply. “Well, that is utterly absurd. Do you mean to tell me because I choose to live alone, any financial support I receive—however innocent—could be seen as scandalous?”
Mrs. Beale’s disapproving countenance flashed to the forefront of Roxina’s mind.
Yes, that old biddy’s sharp tongue could make a nun appear like a dockside harlot.
Would fresh-baked biscuits ease Mrs. Beale’s disapproval?
