Chapter One

Present day

Sophia Hartley sat at a worn oak table, studying the half-finished blue dress in front of her with great care. She squinted through the dim lighting that streamed in through the small window of the equally small dining room of the modest London apartment she shared with her mother and sister. Her fingers worked a needle and thread through the linen fabric with adept skill, weaving through the seams with the precision only years of practice could yield.

Beside her, twelve-year-old Lucy worked on mending a scarf that matched the blue dress. The scarf was a simpler task, which Sophia had had no problem delegating to her younger sister. She easily could have done it, true enough. But it was time that Lucy learned how to sew and crochet. Their family depended on having another set of hands that could take on work, however small.

The matriarch of their family, Mrs. Caroline Hartley, sat at the head of the small, tired table, staring at a pair of trousers. They were finery, commissioned by a wealthy merchant. Mr. Thomas George with whom Sophia and Lucy’s father, Dennis, often did business. He had been one of their regular customers since Dennis Hartley died eighteen months prior due to consumption. But even his custom came less and less in recent months, as he was approaching retirement.

Sophia glanced up as her mother’s brow furrowed. The dark circles beneath her dull blue eyes spoke of many late nights working on what little mending jobs they could get. And the gray streaks that had appeared over the past half a year spoke of a grieving widow who was struggling more each week to provide for her two daughters. The worry and fatigue never left her mother’s eyes, and Sophia did not know how much longer she could sustain their family on their meager income.

Father’s medical bills alone could send us to the poorhouse, Sophia thought as her fingers moved faster to finish the dress before sundown. The woman who hired them said she would be back to retrieve her dress and scarf before supper that evening, and they needed that money so Caroline could go to the market and buy more food. We truly believed the physician could get Father well. Yet even with his passing, the doctor shows no mercy.

She shook off the thought before it could begin forming bitterness in her mind. The physician had taken the best care he could of her father during the three weeks he lasted with the illness but their money was already drastically diminished due to some poor business decisions her father made two months before he fell ill.

They had paid every coin in their savings for treatment, but Dennis Hartley only became more ill by the day. It was not the doctor’s fault, and he deserved to be paid for services he rendered to Sophia’s family on credit. But was there not a way to work off some of the debt, rather than to hand over money that was already running dangerously low?

She shook her head once more. She was being unreasonable. And she was aware of it. She knew that she could not let the worry and frustration lead her to such thoughts. Besides, she knew very well that her sister and mother depended on her strength and endurance. It would not do to allow them to perceive her entertaining such nonsensical notions.

She missed her father, with her entire heart but the debts he had left behind, which seemed to compound by the hour, were a large burden. She also knew that her mother and sister missed Dennis, as well. And they were just as weighted by the financial bind in which her father’s debts had left them. She had no right to allow selfish thoughts to enter her mind. She needed to find a more substantial way to help provide for her family and herself.

That night, she lay awake as Lucy slept soundly in the small straw cot beside hers. She stared at the ceiling, which was beginning to crack, trying to think of practical solutions for their money troubles. She could try taking on more sewing work. But there was only so much work to be had for the three Hartley women. More people were taking their mending to bona fide seamstresses in downtown, or simply buying more clothes. She had to admit to herself that soon enough, there would likely be next to no work for them.

Oh, how I miss you, Father, she thought, covering her mouth to stifle a sob. I wish you were here. I wish you could help me find a way to care for Mother and Lucy.

Then, an idea struck her. There were people within the ton who had acquaintances who helped women find suitable positions within wealthy, noble households. The newspaper office would be a place where they might have information of a job available. London abounded with women of diverse backgrounds whose husbands had passed away, leaving them to fend for themselves and their children, with scant provision for the future.

She had never spoken with any such people, but she had heard women just a couple years younger than her talking about how they ended up with positions as maids, governesses, cooks and nursemaids, even at such young ages. Surely, a woman with her education could find some luck with an acquaintance like that. She decided, as her eyelids finally grew heavy, that she would rise early the next morning and go speak with one.

***

Just as the sky was beginning to lighten, Sophia slipped out of bed, quietly fetching the one clean dress she had, a pale blue cotton dress with matching boots and gloves that she had sewn herself and pulling it over her. She styled her hair into a neat bun, then put on her boots and gloves. As quietly as she could manage, she sneaked out of the apartment, hurrying to the road and heading for the city centre. The walk would take about an hour, but Sophia was still quite early setting out, and she thought she could use the fresh air.

London was a different place during the quiet hours of early morning. Shop keepers were just entering their businesses, making muffled noises as they cleaned and prepared for the day. The voices of the other few pedestrians she saw were subdued, as though they were trying to keep from waking their sleepy city. And with the streets not crowded by carriages and buggies, the tall buildings and sleek storefronts looked like regal sentinels against the bright morning London sky.

She reached the newspaper office just as she saw a young lady unlock the door and step back inside. She paused as she reached the building, smoothing out the skirt of her dress and tucking a stray clump of hair back into her bun. She looked presentable, even with as poor as her family was. She just hoped she was presentable enough.

She entered the office, her breath catching as she looked around. The large, rounded reception desk, small tables and yellow floral upholstered chairs were made from Rosewood. The upholstery itself was a luxurious batiste fabric, and the rose and lily patterns on the yellow material made Sophia think of the first blooms of spring. It was clearly a well-established and profitable business to have such magnificent furnishings.

“I am Mrs. Abernathy,” a sharp, stern voice said. “May I help you?”

Sophia whirled around, trying not to appear as startled as she was. She locked eyes with a lanky, strict-looking woman who was dressed in a professional, brown muslin dress. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back in a bun so tight that Sophia thought it lifted her eyebrows. Her thin nose was wrinkled as though she smelled something sour, and her ice blue eyes were narrowed, appearing to glare straight into Sophia’s soul.

Sophia tried to shake off the intimidation with which the woman filled her. She returned the stark greeting with a warm smile as she approached the desk.

“Good morning,” she said, her nerves vibrating her entire body. “My name is Sophia Hartley, and I would like to know about any governess positions you might know of through your acquaintances.”

The woman looked her over as though she already knew that Sophia did not have any experience as a governess. Or as anything besides a mediocre seamstress, she thought, flushing as the errant thought filled her with shame. She needed to focus. And she would have to hope that her education and gentle demeanor would be enough to secure employment.

“Where are your references?” Mrs. Abernathy asked, looking pointedly at Sophia’s empty, clasped hands.

Sophia forced herself to concentrate, giving the stern woman a bright smile.

“I have worked as a seamstress with my mother for the past few years,” she said. “Thus, I do not have any experience as a governess. However, I am well educated, and I love children. My sister is twelve, and I have greatly enjoyed watching her grow into a young lady.”

The matron sneered at her, the disapproval so apparent on her face that Sophia was sure that even a passersby across the street could see it.

“I am sure you have developed incredible skills, working with your mother as your employer,” she said, the sarcasm thick and jagged. “However, that is hardly something you could use as a reference. And your sister would be your mother’s charge, just as you were. Not yours. I do not think you understand the challenges of being a governess, or what noblemen and women expect from women who fulfill that role.”

Sophia nodded, even though she was acutely aware that she did not understand those things.

“I know that caring for children is a tremendous responsibility,” she said. “And nothing is more important to me than education, especially for every child. I have helped my sister with her lessons since she was…”

“As I told you, your sister was not your charge,” Mrs. Abernathy said, cutting her off so sharply that she winced. “I am sure that you taught your sister well. But that is not something you can put as a reference.”

Sophia nodded again, losing the heart to defend herself. She needed the work, and she knew that governess positions paid well and typically included long tenures for the women who could prove themselves.

Seeming satisfied with Sophia’s silence, Mrs. Abernathy smirked.

“You can ask people as many times over,” she said. “However, if you do not have any experience or references, it will be next to impossible for any of us to place you in a position. And then, there is the matter of vacancies for governess. Which, I regret to inform you, we do not currently have. I will add your name to the waiting list. But with your lack of references, you will almost certainly be overlooked for women with credible experience.”

Sophia’s heart sank. She knew there were other places she could ask in London. But she also knew that they would probably say various versions of what Mrs. Abernathy had just told her. The slim hope with which she had entered the newspaper office dissolved, leaving her feeling deflated and more worried than ever before.

Dejected, she slowly made her way back to her family’s apartment. Her stomach twisted as she glanced up at the building and noticed the tattered curtains fluttering in the window of the living area. She put on a smile, grateful that she had not told her mother or sister what she was planning. She could suffer the disappointment of rejection. But she didn’t want them to have to cope with it, as well.

She entered the dining area of the small apartment just as her mother was setting their only pot in the middle of the table. Her mother gave her a tired smile and gestured to her seat.

“There you are,” she said. “I was beginning to worry that you would not make it home in time for lunch.”

Sophia forced her smile to widen as Lucy bound into the room. Sophia was glad that her younger sister could still find joy, even in their meager life. But it added to the guilt of her failure.

As the three women ate in silence, Sophia bit back tears. Watching her mother and sister eat their insufficient portions of celery stew and stale bread reminded her that their finances were only going to worsen, rather than improve. Sophia herself could not eat her share as she could not stop thinking about how critical it was that she find some way to secure something like a governess position. She silently promised herself to pour her meal back into the pot so that her mother and sister would have an extra serving for their next meal.

After lunch, their mother excused Lucy to go finish her lessons, while Sophia followed her into the conjoined kitchen to help her clean up. Mrs. Hartley scrubbed the dishes while Sophia rinsed them. It took a few minutes for Sophia to gather her nerve. Once she could bring herself to speak, she paused her work and turned to her mother.

“I went to seek for a job as governess today, Mother,” she said.

Mrs. Hartley looked at her eldest daughter with a tired hopefulness that made Sophia second guess mentioning her failed attempt to the frail woman.

“Oh, darling, that is wonderful,” she said.

Sophia shook her head, looking at her mother with apologetic eyes.

“It was not, I am afraid,” she said, explaining everything that Mrs. Abernathy had said to her.

Her mother gave her another tired smile, and Sophia’s heart ached as the brief flicker of hope in her eyes melted into the same worry and disappointment that had lingered in her gaze since her husband’s death.

“Sweetheart, you will not always succeed the very first time you try something,” she said. “I am proud of you simply for trying. And I know that you will have better luck in the future. You are a very smart and clever young woman, and you are the kindest and most patient person I know. Furthermore you are quite determined. You must not let one rejection shape your ideas for the future.”

Sophia smiled at her mother, desperate to find comfort in her mother’s words. She knew there was a chance that she would be more successful in her future endeavors to find work. However, she also knew it was equally possible that she would not be; not the next time she tried to apply, or the next time, or the next. And the uncertainty was scarier than all the obstacles that she and her family had faced since her father’s death combined.