Page 6 of The Lady's Companion
It was a daunting thought, and not one that she had entertained much in her life. All the women that she knew were taken care of by men, or at least in Aunt Louisa’s case, were left pots of money to keep the coal flowing freely into grates, and excessive dinners on the table. I wonder, can I do it? she asked herself as she pulled on her mittens and picked up Aunt Louisa’s book for the lending library.
“Susan!”
She looked up, startled and a little guilty as Aunt Louisa bore down on her from the front salon. With a gulp, Susan held up the book. “You wanted me to return this, Aunt?”
Louisa stopped and eyed her. “You’re not planning anything foolish, are you, my dear?”
It’s not foolish to want to provide for myself, Susan reasoned. “No, Aunt, nothing foolish,” she said. “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.” And with any luck, you and Emily will be out trying on hats or gloves, or taking measurements or umbrage, she thought, and won’t have any idea when I return.
Aunt Louisa smiled at her, and Susan owned to a prickle of conscience. “I’ll overlook your nonsensical little comments this morning, Susan,” her aunt said generously.
“Very well, Aunt,” she replied, standing aside for the footman to open the door. That was noncommittal enough, Susan thought as the door closed behind her. I could become an accomplished liar, if I worked at it.
Her determination wavered as the wind tugged at her skirts and spat snow into her face. I could return this book tomorrow, she thought as she stood, indecisive, on the front step. But it was beautiful outside, with a skiff of snow covering muck on the road and muffling the sound of horses’ hooves. She shrugged at theparticles of snow that trickled down her neck and started off at a brisk pace.
The lending library was busier than she expected, considering the blustery nature of the day. Obviously she was not the only person on the planet who enjoyed stretching out on the sofa with a good book, especially on a raw day. But now what? Susan returned the book and stood looking out at the snow, panicked suddenly by the realization that she had no idea how to look for employment.
Her mind in turmoil, she watched a young matron with her small daughter, their heads together over a book. The sight was a familiar one from her own childhood. It calmed her and gave her an idea. She remembered earlier, more plentiful days when she had a governess.
Here I go, she thought as she made her graceful way through the stacks toward the woman.
“Excuse me, madam,” she said, smiling and nodding. “My name is Susan Hampton. I am new to London, and I am looking for both an abigail and a nursemaid. Do you know... can you tell me of employment agencies in town?”
The woman smiled back and handed the book to her daughter. “It’s hard to find good servants!” she said, taking in Susan’s modish pelisse and smart bonnet. Yes, I am one of your kind, Susan thought, as she dimpled and smiled back. You can speak to me, for as of ten-thirty this morning, I am still respectable.
“Is it so hard to find help?” she asked, her eyes wide with what she hoped was country naivete. How excellent for my chances, she considered. Perhaps I will be lucky today, if good servants form a distinct minority.
“Let me suggest the Steinman Agency four blocks toward the Strand,” the woman replied, gesturing toward the window. She leaned close to Susan then. “That’s where I found our treasure of a governess. Of course, Steinman is Jewish, but a goodbusinessman.”
The woman giggled behind her hand, and Susan joined in. My, we are superior Christians, she thought. Enjoy the hypocrisy while you can, Susan. When you’re earning a living, you’ll be fair game, too. She thanked the woman for her advice and left the bookstore. It was snowing in good earnest now, but she bowed her head against the wind and hurried on.
Susan almost walked past the agency, butSteinmanin modest letters on an iron plaque caught the edge of her vision. She stopped and stared at the door, wishing that an earthquake would suddenly swallow it. I could always pretend to myself that I couldn’t find the place, she considered. Maybe in a year or two, I would even believe that I had done the right thing by flinging myself back into Aunt Louisa’s web.
But there it was, a substantial door with two neatly curtained windows to one side. A discreet sign in the window closer to the door saidNow Hiring. Susan took a deep breath and opened the door.
A young man looked up from the desk as a blast of wind came in with her. He grabbed at the paper he was writing on, leaning on it with his body and trying to clutch other papers now fluttering to the floor. Susan closed the door quickly behind her, wondering briefly why he did not just grab the papers, and then noticed that he had only one arm. Oh, this is a good beginning, she thought as she knelt on the floor and gathered up the papers.
“There you are, sir,” she said a moment later. “I’m sorry for the commotion.”
“Until I reach such a lame disposition that I have to blame a young lady for the wind, I thank you.”
She smiled at him, considered the matter, and nodded. “I am Susan Hampton,” she said simply.
He nodded in return, and indicated a chair, where she sat. “I’m Joel Steinman, he with too many papers and not enough fingersanymore to subdue them all. Are you interested in hiring a maid or a governess? I might warn you that this is a difficult time of year to hire. What can I do for you?”
He was impossible not to smile at, with his rumpled black hair and lopsided grin. There was no question that he was a son of Abraham, as the lady in the library had mentioned. His nose was long and high-bridged, his warm, olive complexion a striking contrast to the average pallid Londoner adrift in a gloomy English winter.
She smiled back, struck by the fact that this was the first man she had ever spoken to who was unknown to her father or aunt. I have never spoken of business matters to anyone before, she considered. And if I keep on grinning, he will think I am an idiot. The thought only widened her smile.
And he smiled back, apparently as unconcerned as she was bemused. “What can I do for you?” he asked again.
“You can offer me some tea,” she suggested as she pulled off her gloves and wondered if she had taken complete leave of her senses. “It’s cold out there and I need to talk business.”
Nothing seemed to surprise him. He leaned back in his chair. “Mama! Do put on some tea.”
In a few minutes a lady came in. Other than being a foot shorter, she was almost a duplicate of Joel Steinman. She carried a tray. She nodded to Susan, set the tray on the desk, and settled herself into the chair at the other desk.
“Miss Hampton, this is my mother. We are equal partners in this business.”
