My shoulders threatened to collapse from the sudden relief. I wasn’t being sacked.
“When Mrs. Potter brought your situation to my attention, she unintentionally made me aware of your strategic position in the house. For this reason, I asked you to meet with me this morning.”
My face must have shown my surprise, because her smile etched wider.
“It does all sound rather mysterious, doesn’t it?” She chuckled and tapped an elegant finger against her chin, studying me with those intelligent eyes of hers as if weighing my ability to complete the task. I sat up straighter, accepting the challenge, regardless of the request, if nothing else to prove her faith in me correct. There was no little pride in being considered for a special opportunity by the lady of the house.
“As you are aware, we have several young people visiting us at present.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And I am quite fond of helping others, especially in regard to future happiness.”
An understatement if one considered all the ways Mrs. Vanderbilt worked to improve the lives of those around her, servants and guests alike.
“Of course, ma’am.”
“And it so happens that my dear friend, Mrs. Moira Withersby, arrived and unexpectedly brought her eldest daughter, Miss Lorraine Withersby, with her when she learned that our guest list involved both the Camdens of Derbyshire and the Dashers of New York.”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t certain how the information correlated with Mrs. Vanderbilt needing my help.
“It is Mrs. Withersby’s particular wish that her daughter have opportunities to engage in…” Mrs. Vanderbilt searched for her word, “…interesting dialogue with the two single young sons during her stay since she has been particularly thwarted in her attempts at finding a husband.”
Single young sons? Finding a husband? Understanding dawned with added heat in my cheeks. Oh dear, what was Mrs. Vanderbilt proposing?
“Would you be so kind as to use your excellent powers of observation and your keen awareness of others’ personalities to help me learn of any mutual interests among the young people?”
“To help Miss Withersby find a…a husband?” First impressions of Miss Withersby were not highly impressive, especially since she didn’t seem to enjoy reading.
“That would be the hopeful result, if at all possible.” Mrs. Vanderbilt’s expression sobered, her brow wrinkling ever so slightly. “She’s a darling, but perhaps not as readily engaging as some other young women. I think with a bit of encouragement she could find the right match.”
My brain spun through the library’s inventory, attempting to locate any books which might include guidance on engaging conversations or increasing winsome dialogue. I pulled up dozens of fictional examples, but it didn’t seem that Miss Withersby’s needs ran in a fictional direction. “There are a few articles on the art of conversation I noticed recently in some of your subscriptions, and I believe we have some psychology books—”
“Actually, Sadie, I hoped you might spend some time with her and help her along. She isn’t much for reading.”
“I don’t think I understand.”
Mrs. Vanderbilt sighed, as if she wasn’t too comfortable with the prospect either. “I know this isn’t what you would choose and it adds to your responsibilities, but apart from your mirror incident, I know you are the embodiment of discretion and would keep the situation private, for Miss Withersby’s sake, if not for mine. Lorraine needs a nudge or two in the right direction, I think. Help with where to start in a conversation with men who enjoy reading.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat as I nodded, my fingers pinching together in my lap. “I don’t mean to contradict you, ma’am, but I…I’m not a…lady. How am I supposed to—”
“Didn’t you help your cousin, one of the shyest of girls, find a husband two years ago?”
“But that—”
“And, as I recall from below-stairs rumors, you have been the matchmaker of at least two couples who have moved on from Biltmore to begin their own families?”
How had she heard of those incidences? “Those were all servants, ma’am.”
“And”—she raised a finger as if to make her final point—“a wellread woman always carries wisdom to impart. It is a byproduct of reading. And you are an avid reader, are you not?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I’m not certain—”
“Shall we give it a trial? For a week or two? And if it isn’t a good fit for you or Miss Withersby, I will recall my request.” She leaned forward, the quiet entreaty in her voice drawing me forward also. She could command it as my employer, yet she requested. Trusting me to do something I felt fairly certain I had no expertise to complete, but I had read a great deal, so perhaps I could locate some help in my beloved world of fiction.
“If…if you think I am the right choice.”
“I do.” She relaxed back into her chair, her smile flared. “And I will give you a hint. She already has her sights set on one of the young men in particular, which is another reason your insight may help the poor girl.”
Something quivered in my chest, as if Mrs. Vanderbilt were about to confess that she was going to get rid of the entire Austen section of the library. I braced myself for the coming revelation.
“I would like you to help Miss Withersby woo Mr. Oliver Camden.”
Chapter 4
What could be better than an arrival of new classically bound books?
Clara unpacked the editions with care. A Dickens here, a Brontë there, even a few Hemingways, Eliots, and Twains. All part of a newly released collection of similarly bound books to tempt those readers, like herself, who prided themselves on a beautifully ordered and uniform personal library.
A rush of cold air seeped around the window, cooling her arm as she steadied the last book in place on the original shelves. Her father had made repairs throughout the years, but there were certain things this family heirloom-of-a-shop needed. New windows. Updated heating. Clara sighed down at the hardwood floor, scraped and scarred from years of foot traffic.
Windows first. Repairs were supposed
