Page 13 of His Unforgettable Bride
“Yes, ma’am.”
“One of our goals in opening the tearoom is to bring culture to the community. We expect you to help us in that effort. Therefore, you’ll need to mind your p’s and q’s.”
Her what? That was all well and good, except Juliet was the last person to convert folks into well-mannered, classy citizens.
Why had Mrs. Morseby sent her here?
Oh, right, because there were no other options.
Juliet held back an exasperated sigh.
Grandfather had tried to raise her right, but the years had faded some of his teachings. Others she’d shoved to the side because circumstances had forced her to do things she wasn’t proud of. However, she’d learned additional niceties at the Firths’ house.
Yet she didn’t know proper conversation with well-to-do folks or when to curtsy, if ever. Nobody had taught her to pour tea or greet a gentleman caller. She had other know-how, but her street smarts couldn’t help her now. “I’ll try my best.”
Tabitha smoothed the bedspread with her flat hand before straightening. “That is all we ask for, Juliet. If you’ll excuse me, I must speak to Icala briefly.”
Who was he? Juliet nodded as Tabitha left the room.
Livy moved to the bed and sat, creaking the springs and disturbing the spread Tabitha had straightened seconds ago. “Now that I’ve mentioned our goals for the tearoom, I’m wondering about yours, Juliet. What are they?”
“Mine?” She tightened her grip on the flour bag.
“Yes.”
“Goals?”
“Yes, indeedy.”
Never had anyone asked her that question, not even herself. Her friend Daisy had opened a sewing shop, and Willow farmed—both worthy ambitions. Sage favored her position as a lady’s maid. “I guess I want a roof over my head and to feel safe.”
“What else?” Livy persisted. “Have you ever considered what you want out of life?”
What did she desire more than anything else? “I don’t mean to speak poorly of myself, but I’m not trained for much more than what I’m doing now. You’ll soon teach me about tearoom duties, according to Mrs. Morseby.” Juliet shrugged and continued to ponder her answer. “I’m a good maid and like doing honest work.”
Livy’s sharp stare had Juliet running her moist hands over her skirt. “I understand your grandfather raised you until his death. May I ask what happened to your parents?”
“They drowned when we crossed the River Irwell to visit my grandfather. I was but two. I don’t recall our boat tipping over, nor the stranger who fished me from the water and hauled me to a church. Grandfather fetched me from there.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Livy stood and stepped closer, her eyes kind. “Have you ever had an older woman’s influence?”
“Only a smidge. Mrs. Moresby treated me nice, and the housekeeper where I worked in Victoria taught me a few polite particulars.”
“Long ago, someone bestowed kindness upon Tabitha and me, though I won’t get into the details.” Livy patted Juliet’s forearm. “Feel free to refuse, but would you enjoy learning how to be more genteel overall, training that would extend beyond the tearoom?”
What exactly was this kind lady proposing? Juliet cranked up her eyebrow. “Why do that for me?”
“Because we can.” Livy chuckled. “Truthfully, the notion just popped into my head, and Tabitha must agree to the plan before we set anything in motion. It’s simply an idea. Some days, I’m full to the brim with them.”
“It’s good you have all that room in your head for such things.”
Livy’s eyes widened.
Juliet clamped her hand over her mouth. Had she just insulted the woman by insinuating that her head was empty? “I’m sorry…I misspoke…I was only trying to compliment you.”
Livy waved a dismissive hand. “Mrs. Moresby said you’d be perfect for us, and I believe she was right.”
Juliet wanted to be perfect for herself, but still…holy Moses.
