Candlelight Wish Read Free Page B

stood on the writing desk and a bowl of dried flower petals rested on a tatted lace table scarf on the dresser, wafting a delicate scent throughout the chamber. More tatted lace covered the single window and what little spare time Phoebe could muster she devoted to making another piece to go under the candelabrum.
    Home—at least until she could find some way to escape the drudgery of academy life. That wouldn’t be for a while yet though, not until Thomas graduated from Cambridge and joined the ranks of lowly curates. Even then he would need some form of supplemental income until he was able to secure a vicarage with a comfortable living.
    She picked up her young brother’s latest letter and found some solace in rereading the lines crossed so carefully to save her the expense of receiving a second sheet. His studies prospered—but then they always did. In fact only one of his many paragraphs disturbed her. It grieved him, he wrote, that he had yet to make the sort of connection that would assure him of a living when he graduated so he would no longer be a burden to her.
    Phoebe’s fingers tightened on the page. He would meet someone or obtain a recommendation or discover a patron among the wealthy and influential gentlemen who maintained their old ties to their university. It might take time of course—another month, perhaps another term—but he would manage it. He had to. In her own subservient position she had no chance of finding him a patron. She was lucky enough to be able to earn sufficient funds to help meet his expenses.
    Of course if she’d enjoyed a Season and been able to marry— But that had never been financially possible. Best to shove such a wistful dream to the back of her mind. She knew all too well that brooding over the impossible did no good. A suitable marriage, while it would solve so many of her difficulties, would not come her way. Setting aside Thomas’ letter, she prepared for bed and slipped between the sheets.
    Even without a patron, she and Thomas would manage, she assured herself as she drifted toward sleep. She had only to retain her position for two or three years more at the most.
    But she had to retain it. Both she and Thomas desperately needed the money she earned.
    An image rose in her mind of Sir Miles Saunderton’s tall dynamic figure, of the implacability of his expression and her heart shrank within her.
    * * * * *
     
    Phoebe entered the dining room a trifle late the following morning to be met by a frown of disapproval from a gaunt lady of advancing years and receding patience. The spinster wore her usual austere gown of brown merino, made high at the neck and long in the sleeve and the steely gray plaits of her hair wound about her head in a style that defied so much as a single tendril to dare to escape confinement. The irascible temperament of Miss Aurelia Crippenham, the junior of the sisters who ran the Academy, had never been known to improve one jot with the consumption of her breakfast.
    Phoebe murmured an excuse, very much aware of the agonized gaze of Miss Lucilla Saunderton following her as she filled her plate and took her accustomed seat.
    The elder Miss Crippenham, a softer plumper version of her younger sister, appeared in the doorway. The gaze she cast about the assembled company held resignation and regret and more than a little annoyance. It settled on Lucilla. “Miss Saunderton,” she said in a weary voice, “you will oblige me by coming to my office if you please.”
    Phoebe looked up and met the unspoken plea for reassurance in Lucilla’s eyes. She gave her a smile of encouragement then resolutely studied her plate while the girl hurried from the room. Lucy had nothing to fear. Her brother must have returned and would shortly whisk her from the clutches of the martinets who ran the Academy, leaving Phoebe to bear the brunt of their annoyance. While Lucy set forth to enjoy an undoubtedly successful London Season, Phoebe would remain here in deep