Gallant Waif Read Free

again, proffering a letter on a silver salver.
    Lady Cahill picked up the letter, wrinkling her nose in disdain at the undistinguished handwriting which gave her direction. “Humph,” she muttered. “Not even franked.”
    She turned it over and broke the seal. She frowned over the letter, muttering crossly to herself as she did. Finally she threw it down in frustration.
    “What is it, Grandmama?”
    “Demmed if I can read the thing. Shockin’ bad hand and the spelling is atrocious. Can’t think who’d be sending me such rubbish. Toss it in the fire, girl!”
    The young woman picked the letter up and smoothed it out. “Would you like me to try?”
    Taking the snort she received from her grandmother to be assent, Amelia read it out, hesitating occasionally over misspellings and illegible words, of which there were many.
    Milady I be right sorry to be addressing you like this it being above my station to be writing to Countesses but I cannot think of who else to turn to…
    “A begging letter!” the Dowager Countess snapped in outrage. “On to the fire with it at once!”
    “I think not, Grandmama,” said Amelia, scanning ahead. “Let me finish.”
    … for my poor girl is now left all alone in the world with no kin to care what become of her but it do seem a right shame that the daughter of gentlefolk should have to skivvy to stay alive…
    Lady Cahill’s eyes kindled with anger. “By God, she’s trying to palm one of your father’s by-blows off on to us!”
    “Grandmama!” Amelia blushed, horrified.
    “Oh, don’t be so mealy-mouthed, girl. You must know your father had any number of bits o’ fluff after your dear mother died, and they didn’t mean a thing, so don’t pretend. But it’s nothing to do with us. Your father would have left any base-born child well provided for. He was a gentleman, after all, even if he was a fool! Now toss that piece of impertinence in the fire at once, I say!”
    But her granddaughter had forgotten her blushes and was avidly reading on. “No, wait, Grandmama, listen to this.”
    And being as I was her old nurse even if some as did say I wasn’t good enough to be nurse to Vicar’s daughter it falls to me to let you know what my girl has come to being as you was godmother to Miss Maria her poor sainted mother…
    Lady Cahill sat up at this and leant forward, her eyes sharp with interest.
    … and her only remaining child so now there be nothing left for her but to Take Service her not willing to be took in by myself and truth to tell there be little enough for me alone so I beg ye Milady please help Miss Kate for as the Lord is my witness there be no other who can yours truly Martha Betts.
    “Do you know any of these people, Grandmama?” said Amelia curiously.
    “I believe I do,” said her grandmother slowly, picking up the letter and scanning it again. “I think the girl must be the daughter of my godchild Maria Farleigh—Maria Delacombe as she used to be. She married a parson and died giving birth to a daughter … must be nigh on twenty years ago. She had two boys before that, can’t recall their names now, and I lost touch with the family after she died, but it could be the same family.”
    She peered at the address. “Is that Bedfordshire I see? Yes. Hmm. No kin? What can have happened to the gel’s father and brothers?” Lady Cahill frowned over the letter for a short time, then tossed it decisively down on a side table.
    “What do you mean to do, Grandmama?”
    Lady Cahill rang for sherry and biscuits.
    Amelia’s husband arrived and they all went in to dinner. Over cream of watercress soup, Lady Cahill announced her decision.
    “But, Grandmama, are you sure about this?” Amelia looked distressed. “It’s a very long journey. What if Jack won’t receive you, either?”
    Lady Cahill gave her granddaughter a look of magnificent scorn. “Don’t be ridiculous, Amelia!” she snorted. “I have never in my life been denied entrée to any establishment