Free The Abandoned Bride by Edith Layton Page B

first fair tide.”
    Lady Cunningham had stayed Julia a full half hour in her attempts to convince her of the advantages of the position. But Julia had never doubted that the terms were generous. She had no quarrel with the salary as it was first offered, and in her extremity, Lady Cunningham had even raised that higher.
    She became so anxious for Julia’s acceptance that she had even hinted broadly of opportunities outside the position. For, she had said, looking slyly around her as though she didn’t wish to be overheard, though they were quite alone, her husband’s house was sure to be overr u n with rising young men of the diplomatic corps, and she would see to it that Julia would have sufficient time off to take advantage of the situation. When that didn’t seem to move her prospective governess, she had spoken of all the other eligible young males that were teeming through the streets of Paris in the aftermath of the war. “Touzands uff younk, likely Hinglishers, and ’andsome younk Roosians, Haustrians, and Prusszians,” she had said dreamily, implying that all that the forces of the occupation were looking for in France was a suitable English wife.
    But Julia had remained steadfast in her rejection of the post. Or, at least, she had remained so until Miss Parkinson had left off her professional air, hitched her chair close up to her client, and said firmly, “Look here, Julia, I’ve got a dozen females who would jump at this post. And I tell you honestly, I haven’t another opportunity for you; It ain’t just your record, which is spotty, my dear, sad to relate it, but there it is. It’s that you’re too pretty, and too young, as well. Time will take care of all those things, and this post will buy you time.
    “I grant that Lady Cunningham seems a scatterbrain, but it ain’t her you’ll be working with. And she’s been more than fair. If it’s being stranded in the frog pond that’s worrying you, forget it. For she’s offered to buy you a two-way ticket at the start, so you won’t feel obligated to stay on with her if you’re miserable, and you can’t say fairer than that. You want a position, and she’s offered you one. Now what’s the impediment?”
    Staring into Miss Parkinson’s unblinking blue eyes, Julia could not offer up one realistic objection. That was because she suddenly understood that all of her reasons, although reasonable, were not realistic at all. How could she say that it was because she shrank from becoming an actual exile? She had left her home, she had left her district, but she had not thought she must put even further distance between herself and her past.
    It wasn’t leaving the country she feared, it was the fact that once she faced up to the matter squarely, she must forever leave off her self-deception as well . Being only a coach ride away from her family had always enabled her to think of her absence from home as only a respite, only a temporary condition that could be righted at any time. She had always considered her decision to seek employment a stopgap measure. But now, confronted with Miss Parkinson’s waiting, watchful e yes, she must at last concede that she had no real reason not to take this further step. In truth, she at last admitted, whether she was employed five or five hundred miles from her family made little difference. She had to live apart from them, and there really could never be any permanent homecoming for her.
    Never, Miss Parkinson had thought, had there ever been a client who had accepted such a plum with such an air of heartbreaking tragedy. A n d while Miss Parkinson surprised herself by then proceeding to go on at length about the advantages of the position, so convincingly that she even found herself regretting that she had not been offered it, Julia sat quietly and attempted to accept her final truth. She looked about at the waiting applicants, anxious, homeless females of all ages and conditions earnestly seeking positions in other