Page 17 of The Lady's Companion
Lady Bushnell sipped her tea, never taking her eyes from Susan’s face. She set down the cup and cleared her throat. Susan could feel the hair rising on the back of her neck.
“Joel Steinman has taken complete leave of his senses. When my pea-brained daughter-in-law searches for your replacement, I will suggest to her that she try another agency.”
Susan blinked. Do I say “Yes, mum” and hang my head, burst into tears, or do I look her in the eye and tell her what I think? “You won’t need another agency,” she heard herself say. “I have come here to stay, Lady Bushnell.”
There was a long pause. It gave her cold comfort to see that Lady Bushnell had not expected that answer, or the well-bred cadence of diction that matched her own.
“Even if I do not want or need you?”
“You’ll need me, ma’am, particularly if you do not wish to be visited by other lady’s companions who won’t be as good for you as I will be,” Susan said, wondering where the words were coming from. Only please, please don’t ask me what a companion does, because I am sure I could not tell you.
“And what will you do for me?”
Oh, no. Susan felt her mind go blank, except for one thought.
“I will never, ever steal your spoons,” she said, her voice firm.
There. Susan let out the breath she had been saving, and dug her stockinged feet into the thick carpet. She probably mistook it but for the smallest moment, there was a different glimmer in Lady Bushnell’s eyes. It was quickly gone, but Susan hoped.
“Have you ever stolen anything, Miss Hampton?” The question was as frosty as the air outside.
Susan considered the question. “Why, yes, I have,” she replied, smiling at the memory. “When I was ten I stole my perfectly odious cousin’s marzipan Father Christmas and ate it. I considered it my duty, because my cousin was quite fat.”
Lady Bushnell looked down at her desk and pushed the ledger away before she turned her gaze on Susan again. “Did someone steal your clothes, Miss Hampton?”
Susan thought there was the slightest quaver in her voice. She felt some of the strain go out of her shoulders. “No, Lady Bushnell. This is a loan from Cora Skerlong. Unless Mr. Wiggins can engineer a road through the snow, my trunk is destined to remain at the inn in Quilling for the present, I fear.”
“David will fetch it,” Lady Bushnell said. “Unlike you, he has the virtue of being useful about this place.”
“I can be useful, too, Lady Bushnell,” Susan said.
“I cannot imagine how.” Lady Bushnell turned in her chair to face Susan and folded her hands in her lap. “Estimable woman that she is, my daughter-in-law has so much time on her hands that she feels obliged to meddle in my affairs. I had a trifling accident on the stairs eight months ago, and must use a cane now.” She indicated the delicately carved stick beside the desk. “What will Emmeline do but send me lady’s companions.”
Lady Bushnell made a face as though the words were distasteful. “If I cough, the companions tattle on me andbring all manner of solicitations and unwanted advice from Emmeline! What do you think of that, Miss Hampton?”
“I think you are fortunate that someone loves you as much as that,” Susan replied. “It has been my experience that people who are ignored are not held in much affection.”
“Your experience!” Lady Bushnell snapped. “Oh, please! You can’t be a day over eighteen.”
“I am twenty-five,” Susan said, her voice even. “My father is Sir Rodney Hampton, England’s worst gambler. He has frittered away the family estate, our house in London, and my entire dowry, until I am obliged to earn my own way. I have no place to go if you turn me off here, so I am determined that you will find me entirely satisfactory.”
“Do you wish me to feel sorry for you because your improvident family has sent you into the ranks of the lower class?”
I did not think a slap would hurt that much, Susan thought, taking a step back as though the widow had struck her. This is a poisonous old woman. She tried to regard Lady Bushnell calmly, even as the last bit of her own pride dribbled away. Or it is a proud woman who has lost children and husband, and sees her independence slipping through her fingers.
Lady Bushnell was silent then, sipping her tea. When she finished, she turned her attention back to the ledger on her desk. Susan stood there in the middle of the room until it became obvious to her that she had been dismissed. Her face burning, she gathered up the tea tray and went to the door, her heart so low in her toes that she felt as though she were kicking it with every step.
“I intend to write Joel Steinman and tell him that I am turning you off. There will be no more lady’s companions, and so I will tell Emmeline, face-to-face, if I have to. What do you think of that, Miss Hampton?”
For the first time since her father stole her pearls, Susan felt tears prickle the back of her eyelids. It is all I should have expected, she told herself as she stood there with her hand on the doorknob. No one wants me here. I was defeated before I came.
“Well?”
“That is your right, Lady Bushnell,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice even. “It frightens me a little, but I expect I’ll manage.” She opened the door. “The innkeep in Quilling told me last night that there are good people around here. I suppose he was only referring to the village. Good day, Lady Bushnell. I’m sorry you’ll never know how well I would have suited.”
To her immense relief, the kitchen was empty when she brought back the tray. She sat down because her legs wouldn’t hold her anymore. She put her arms on the table and rested her head on them, her mind turning like a whirligig. There’s nothing I can sell to get me some cash for a ride back to London. And even if I get to London, I can’t knock on Aunt Louisa’s door. I just can’t.
She sighed and waited for the tears to come, but they did not. I suppose I have finally gone beyond tears, she thought, and what a relief that is. She rested her chin on her hands. At least I was right when I told Cora that I was going to be the final lady’s companion.
