When Angels Fall (18 page)

“I’m just like Mother, Evvie.” She began to sob and even her sister’s fierce hugs couldn’t comfort her.

The next day Lissa went to seek employment. Dressed in wool serge gowns, bonnets, and shawls, she and Evvie set out for the Mercantile. There Evvie occupied Mrs. Bishop’s attention by asking her to help her choose a new pair of gloves while Lissa covertly looked at the announcements board beneath the words “Positions Available.”

The Gilworths needed a chimney sweep and the Miltons were looking for a gardener, neither of which suited her. She looked further and found that the Erick
sons were seeking a governess and old Widow Tannahill desired a ladies’ companion. Both of those positions seemed more appropriate, but Lissa’s beautiful eyes clouded. Old Widow Tannahill would no doubt have her thrown from her parlor for even thinking herself suitable as a companion. And the Ericksons? The young couple’s estate had neighbored Alcester House. In fact, Kenneth Erickson had been the one to make funeral arrangements for her parents. But Lissa had seen them so infrequently since then, she wasn’t sure how they would react to her applying for the position of governess. They had been pleasant when they’d seen her, but wouldn’t remembrances of The Scandal ultimately color their decision? After all, they were seeking a governess, someone who would have some impression upon their children . . .

Her worried gaze suddenly lit upon another notice. It stated:

Parlormaid desired at Powerscourt. Pay generous, duties genteel. Apply with Mrs. Lofts at the servants’ entrance.

Lissa bit her lower lip. How positively unfortunate that Powerscourt should be seeking help. Ironically it was the only place in Nodding Knoll that would hire her, regardless of her past. But there was no way she would go there. At once the Ericksons’ position seemed a less remote possibility. She’d at least have to try there first before even considering working at Powerscourt.

She wandered back to her sister and grabbed her hand. “Find anything that suits, dear?”

Evvie gave a start. “Well . . . actually no . . .” She turned her head in Lissa’s direction and a worried look passed over her features.

Lissa turned her gaze to the shopkeeper. “Would you excuse us, Mrs. Bishop? I want to have a word with Evvie; she hasn’t been feeling well today.”

“Oh, certainly, loves, you both have a chat and I’ll be in the back feeding old Tom.” Mrs. Bishop picked up her large gray tom and breezed to her rooms in the back of the shop.

“What did you find?” Evvie whispered when Mrs. Bishop’s footsteps had faded away.

“Nothing much, but the Ericksons are looking for a governess. I shall go there at once. Shall I return you to the cottage, or would you like to stay here and keep Mrs. Bishop company for an hour or so?”

“I think I should like to stay here. I know I’ll just be pacing in the cottage waiting for you to return. Oh, Lissa, I can’t believe it has come to this. What if the Ericksons won’t—”

“Never mind that! Don’t think of it!” Lissa squeezed her hand in farewell. “I shall be back soon!”

It took less than fifteen minutes to reach the Erickson estate, but to Lissa it seemed the walk took hours. Every step was painful. The position as governess would be perfect, but there were so many things that could go wrong. It was ever so much more difficult considering that she already knew the Ericksons. It would put them in a most awkward situation, even more so if they had to refuse. Her cheeks burned with humiliation just thinking about the possibility of rejection. But she had to go forth. George and Evvie needed her, and if this was the only way, she would do it.

“Lissa! Lissa!” A voice rang out behind her. Lissa turned and watched a carriage pull up alongside her. A well-coiffed, russet-colored head popped out the window and Arabella Parks greeted her with a wave.

“Lissa! How glad I am to see you! I’ve been so bad about not visiting! And now here you are!”

“Hello, Arabella,” Lissa answered, all the while fervently wishing the girl would just disappear. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Arabella Parks; on the contrary, Arabella was probably her best friend. She certainly had been while
Lissa was growing up at Alcester House, and even now Arabella still called on her. But since The Scandal there always seemed to be the implication that the young lady was performing some charitable duty doing such. A couple of times Lissa half expected her to come calling with bread and medicine, as if the rich Miss Parks were visiting the most broken and destitute of paupers. When Arabella left, Lissa always felt like an ungrateful chit for being so annoyed by her visit, but seeing her now was like having salt thrown into her wounds. She was feeling particularly discouraged, and she wondered blackly if it wouldn’t be too soon before the Alcesters would need bread and medicine.

“Lissa, whatever are you doing out here on the road? Do come into the carriage and I’ll take you wherever you are going.” Arabella assumed her most piteous look and quickly opened the door for her.

Lissa could only stand on the road. What was she to do? Tell Arabella she wanted to be dropped off at the Ericksons because she hoped to find employment there? Or remain where she was and refuse the ride, making Arabella feel only that much more sorry for her?

“Come along, dear. The wind is cold.” Arabella shivered and tucked the mink carriage blanket even more tightly around her lap.

“I . . . ah . . .” Lissa stumbled on her words.

Noting her hesitation, Arabella smiled sympathetically. “Please don’t worry, Lissa. I don’t care if anyone sees us together. In fact, you must know, many have said it is quite admirable that you and I have remained chums. So you see now? You needn’t be so anxious.”

Lissa was caught between wanting to strangle the girl and wanting to thank her. “How good of them,” she finally sputtered, choking back her gall.

“Now please get in. The chill is absolutely brutal and I shouldn’t like to stand here bickering with you all afternoon. So where were you off to?”

Resigned, Lissa ascended the carriage. There was no
way she could ask Arabella to drop her at the Ericksons. It would be the final humiliation. Besides, her plan to become a governess seemed ridiculous now. No family in Nodding Knoll would want a woman with her past supervising their children. Lissa almost couldn’t blame them. The Scandal was bigger than Nodding Knoll itself, and while the Alcesters were still there, they would never get away from it.

“Would you mind taking me to Bishop’s? I left Evvie there.” She settled herself in the carriage. Arabella gave her a strange look, for it was obvious she had been headed in the opposite direction. Nonetheless, Arabella knocked on the panel behind her and shouted instructions to her driver. In moments they were on their way.

Lissa was soon back at Bishop’s Mercantile, where she thanked Arabella graciously for the ride. When she entered the store she expected to find Evvie waiting for her, and she was perplexed indeed when her sister was nowhere to be seen. Her curiosity escalated when she heard Evvie giggle from behind the huge damask curtains that partitioned the Bishops’ living quarters from the shop. Knowing she was welcome, Lissa pulled aside the curtains and went to retrieve her sister.

The surprise on her face must have been obvious, for when she entered the Bishops’ parlor, everyone ceased all conversation. But she couldn’t help looking shocked when a man, the same man whose amusing story appeared to have reduced her normally sober sister into a giggling schoolgirl, rose from the tea table. Lissa knew he was Ivan’s man, Mr. Jones, and she was not sure she liked the situation, never mind the fact that it was obvious Mrs. Bishop had played chaperone in her absence.

“Oh, Lissa love, you’ve returned. Have some tea with us, will you?” Mrs. Bishop cooed.

“I really—” She was interrupted by Evvie.

“Do you see who is here, Lissa?” Evvie smiled in her
direction. “It’s Holland . . . I mean . . . Mr. Jones. Do you remember? At the soirée?”

“Yes, I believe we have met, Mr. Jones.” Lissa nodded. He bowed.

“You must call me Holland also,” he offered.

Not knowing what to do, Lissa simply smiled at him.

“We’ve been having the most lovely time,” Mrs. Bishop interceded. “Holland here has left us in tatters over his stories and I don’t know who has laughed more, Evvie or me!”

“Oooh, the stories of you at Eton were simply charming! I never knew anyone other than my little brother George who could cause so much mischief!” Evvie stifled a giggle in her delicate white-gloved hand.

“How nice,” Lissa murmured helplessly. It was a delight to see her sister so carefree, yet was this another one of Ivan’s manipulations? Had he sent his man down here to . . . ?

She abruptly stopped her train of thought. No! Ivan wouldn’t go so far as to hurt Evvie—not directly, at least. And as she watched Mr. Jones steal a glance at her sister, she knew even Ivan Tramore couldn’t command his man to look at Evvie in such a way. Holland Jones appeared as if he were worshipping a goddess, and Evvie played the part beautifully with her pink cheeks and sable hair. Her blue eyes shone like an angel’s, and though she could not see her male companion, her eyes were filled with as much awe as his.

“Have you finished your errands, Lissa love?” Mrs. Bishop stood and bounced to retrieve the cookie tray. “I suppose you couldn’t stay for a cup of tea?”

“Errands!” Evvie stood as if she’d just been struck by a lightning bolt. Obviously she had just recalled where her sister had been. “Good heavens! We must leave! Oh, Lissa, I am so sorry,!”

“We needn’t leave, Evvie,” Lissa said.

“But we must! Here I’ve been sitting having tea while
you’ve been out running those—those—errands!” She nervously gathered up her purse and shawl. Standing contritely, she waited for her sister’s arm.

“I suppose we have lingered after all,” Holland stated reluctantly.

“Perhaps we should get home for George . . .” Lissa looked at Holland. He had such a nice smile and was handsome and gentle, full of dignity and fine breeding. She would have to tell Evvie about him when they were alone.

Mrs. Bishop led Evvie out to the store while Holland held the curtain for Lissa. When her sister was a few steps ahead of her, Holland touched Lissa’s arm.

“Yes, Mr. Jones?”

He looked thoughtful. “I should like to pay my respects to your sister, Miss Alcester. Would tomorrow afternoon be too forward of me?”

Lissa looked up at him. Her face was flushed with hope because at least one Alcester girl was to be blessed with a decent prospect. Perhaps their future wasn’t so bleak after all. She gave him a brilliant smile. “Mr. Jones, you are welcome to call at Violet Croft anytime. Anytime.”

For the next few days Holland almost became a fixture at tea. Both girls quickly came to like having a man at Violet Croft. Evvie adored it for all the obvious reasons, and Lissa soon looked forward to it because the visits truly made her sister sparkle, and besides Holland Jones was rare indeed; he was a gentleman through and through.

But while prospects for the Alcesters’ future were improving, the present was not. Every day the store of coins
beneath Lissa’s mattress dwindled further and she began to wonder how they would continue to put up a front of nonchalance in front of Holland. It wouldn’t do to have Evvie’s suitor see them so piteously without funds, for perhaps that would scare him off. And yet he would certainly see them in dire straits if Lissa didn’t do something soon about their financial situation.

It was the absolute last resort to answer Powerscourt’s advertisement, but she rationalized that once Holland asked Evvie to marry him, she would be able to quit her employment. She would work at Powerscourt only long enough to get through Evvie’s betrothal, which she was positive would come eventually. She assured herself that Ivan was the typical master who would have nothing to do with the hiring and overseeing of servants. Once hired, she was sure she could stay clear of him within the labyrinth of servants’ passages she knew to be hidden within the castle walls. Her only comfort was that she would be in the ironic position of having used Ivan as her final means of support. The man who had tried to ruin her would ultimately become the man who saved her.

However, she was wrong.

When she arrived at Powerscourt one morning after lying to Evvie about where she was headed, Lissa went directly to the servants’ entrance and asked for the Mrs. Lofts mentioned in the advertisement. When the dourfaced housekeeper arrived at the door, Lissa had the distinct impression that the woman had been expecting her.

Her suspicion was confirmed when the housekeeper looked her up and down with disdain, then led her to a small, well-appointed withdrawing chamber. Alone, Lissa nervously took off her gloves and bonnet, then had to wait fifteen minutes before she was retrieved and led to the library. There the masculine scent of mahogany and leather made her beware.

“Ah good, you’ve finally come.”

She turned her head and met Ivan’s gaze. He sat fac
ing her in the window seat looking absolutely devilish in a waistcoat of wine-colored paisley. Behind him, a halo of morning sunshine poured through the bays of mullioned windows, each pane catching the light at a different angle so that the entire sweep of window sparkled like pavé diamonds.