“She’s just put her father in the ground, God rest his soul,” Hannah had said fiercely when Mr. Simpkin seemed to take issue with the amount of outstanding rent Mina made over to him.
Mr. Roberts hastily intervened. “Quite, quite,” he said, stroking his large handlebar mustache. “I am sure we most heartily lament the loss of your dear father. Of course, my colleague is quite correct, usually we would require three months’ notice before one of our properties is vacated…” He caught Hannah’s eye and coughed. “However, under such regrettable circumstances, we will of course, make an exception.”
“You are very kind,” Mina said flatly. After paying over the sum owed for the burial and interment, she had a matter of mere pennies left in her purse. As it was, she knew not how she was to pay the rest of Hannah’s wages.
“So, you will be leaving Bath imminently, my dear Miss Walters,” Mr. Roberts continued as Mr. Simpkin continued to brood heavily beside him.
“Yes,” Mina said briefly. “I await my new direction any day now, by return of post.” Her lips felt numb as the private living quarters they occupied were very cold that morning, for they had not yet dared light a fire. She could not feel her fingertips; despite the black lace mittens which Hannah had dyed along with the rest of her raiment. They had closed the schoolrooms and the dormitories weeks ago, but they still could not keep the few rooms they used warm. Not on the small amount of coal they had been rationing. The scuttle was practically empty.
The last paying pupil had left well over a month ago, long before Papa’s illness had really taken grip. In truth, their admissions had been sadly dwindling over the past couple of years. Their little school had never been fashionable, but it had been solidly respectable. It was almost frightening, Mina reflected how quickly a steady paying business could go down the drain and one could be out on the street. Their patrons had distanced themselves and none had replied to the last few letters she had written.
“To relatives?” Mr. Roberts pressed. Mina stared at the broken blood-vessels on his bulbous nose and wondered if he was a secret drinker.
“I am hoping to secure a position as a governess,” Mina corrected him.
“Now, if you gentlemen would excuse us,” Hannah said loudly, pursing her lips. “My young lady has several matters she needs to wind up before she can pack her bags.”
This was another lie, Mina thought but was grateful for Hannah’s intercession. She had neatly packed up her things the day before. All packed up and nowhere to go. Nosy Mr. Roberts and sour Mr. Simpkin were ushered out of the front door and Mina sat at her father’s walnut writing desk and laboriously wrote out a set of glowing references for Hannah.
As she laid down her pen, she felt the beginnings of a dizzy terror at what was to become of her. Her future yawned before her like a frightening chasm which would swallow her up into nothingness. She had no-one. Even Hannah had prospective employment lined up with a young widow in town, though she professed herself quite willing to stay on until Mina was ready to leave.
To leave for where though? She had given up hoping for employment from the several schools in the area. She had applied to them for any teaching positions when their own pupils had trickled away, before Father had even grown sick. Since Father’s illness, she had sent dozens of letters asking after private governess posts but had yet to receive a single reply. The trouble was, she was still relatively inexperienced at four-and-twenty and the only school she had ever worked in was her own father’s.
Governess positions usually took a while to secure and realistically you needed a sponsor to work on your behalf who had the necessary connections. She had hoped that Lady Ralph who had been a sponsor of the school might help her, but that lady had been sadly uncommunicative of late. Mina’s family had kept very much to themselves. Although regular attendees at church, they had not mixed much with the congregation, for her parents had really only cared for one another’s company. They neither moved in society nor kept up any acquaintance in Bath. They also lacked family connection for, as Mina understood it, both her parents had been orphaned at a young age.
A rap at the front door startled her out of her bleak reverie. She hoped goodness it was no tradesman expecting payment for the coffers were now well and truly empty. She craned her ears and to her surprise heard a tread on the stair. Surely Hannah was not bringing any caller upstairs to her? She half-turned in her seat and widened her eyes when she heard a short knock on the door. Quickly touching hands to her head, she felt her nut-brown hair was still smooth and glossy in its arrangement of side-braids which looped below her ears and then swept up into a neat bun at the back.
“Presenting Lord Faris, miss,” Hannah said, bobbing a curtsey and withdrawing promptly.
Mina stared at the beautiful young man who sauntered into the room. He wore a most elegant outfit of evening wear complete with black opera cape, top hat, and a walking cane topped with a silver pommel. His hair was a bright, burnished gold and stood around his face like a halo and it was only after staring at him a moment, that Mina realized he had a rather cynical mouth and his eyes looked
