Page 24 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
That was what Eleanor had once called her. And Eleanor had been right in that—and in all things.
“I sincerely hope not, Frances,” Etty said.
The girl blushed and set Gabriel down. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Mrs. Ward—I meant no offense, truly.”
Etty approached the young girl, who stepped back, her eyes widening, fear flickering in her green gaze.
Heavens—did she think Etty was going to strike her?
“I-I’ll do better, I promise, Mrs. Ward,” she said. “Please don’t send me back. I-I only meant that he was such a handsome lad, that he’s bound to have his pick of sweethearts.”
“That’s very kind of you, Frances,” Etty replied. “But I would hope my son grows up to be a kinder man than the sort who’d break a girl’s heart. I want him to be a better man than…”
She hesitated.
…than his father.
Which, given Dunton’s cruelty in his disregard for her and his treatment of his subordinates, was unlikely to be a challenge. Gabriel would grow up to be a fine man. A good man who cared for, rather than judged, the sinners in his midst.
A man such as Mr. Staines.
“Mr. Staines has been ever so kind,” the girl said.
Sweet Lord—had Etty spoken out loud?
“Oh, has he?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am. It was him what sent me here today. He told Ma he’d found me employment here in Sandcombe, and I couldn’t believe my good fortune. But I don’t want to let him down.”
“I can’t imagine your letting anyone down, Frances,” Etty said. “I can see that my son adores you. And he’s as good a judge of character as any.”
“Then you’ll take me as housemaid?”
Etty’s heart almost broke at the desperation in the girl’s voice. She was a mere child who had only one choice before her—to seek a wage to support her family.
At twelve years old, Etty had had no such concerns to trouble her. For as long as she could remember, she had outshone her older sister in elegance and beauty—and had a host of adults who never ceased to remind her of her qualities and the success she’d make of her life. At twelve years old, the prospect of toil had never entered her mind.
“Of course,” Etty said.
“To live in?”
“Don’t you wish to remain at home?”
“Oh.” The girl’s smile slipped. “It’s just that Ma said I could earn…” She blushed and lowered her gaze. “Beggin’ yer pardon, it’s not done to speak of such things.”
Of course! A live-in housemaid earned more than one who visited daily.
“I hear twelve pounds a year is a reasonable sum,” Etty said.
The girl’s eyes widened, and Gabriel almost slipped from her grasp. Then she tightened her hold on the boy and shook her head.
“No—no, Mrs. Ward,” she said. “That’s too much. It’s what Mr. Smith earns at the Sailor, so my da says.”
“The Sailor?” Etty asked.
“The inn,” the girl said. “Not that you’d know. Da says he drinks most of it, leaving Mrs. Smith with next to nothing for the housekeeping.”
“And you think I should pay you less than this Mr. Smith earns?”
