Free Yorkshire by Lynne Connolly

in my handkerchief, but she said nothing. The lawyer refused an invitation to stay, saying he should get back to York and begin his work as soon as possible. I envied him his comfortable bed and warm house.
    “Thank you for these papers, my lord.” He motioned to a leather case in his hand. “I will contact you again as soon as matters are under way.”
    Then he fumbled in his pocket and drew out a piece of pasteboard. “This is the address of Thompson’s in London. You will find them invaluable in the provision of upper servants.” He gave the card to Martha with a small flourish. She took it, with a smile. “I have had some dealings with them in the past. If you wish it, I can contact them for you. They’ll send you a list of the servants they think are suitable.”
    “Most kind, Mr. Fogg,” Martha replied. An impressively efficient man of law for such a ramshackle family.
    He had an air of pomposity that probably came with his position in life. We watched his vehicle jolt down the drive, then returned to the house.
    I found Lizzie and we went upstairs to rest, to my room, since all our bedding was there. We removed our outer clothes, loosened our stays, lay down together and slept like babies.
    I awoke later when Lizzie turned over, taking most of the covers with her. When I pulled them back, it woke her, and we grinned at each other, like children waking from an afternoon nap. Lizzie got up and sat by the fire. Thanks to Martha, there were now coals in a bucket by the fire. She heaped them on the flames. It would take more than one fire to dispel the neglect, the dampness, but it was a great comfort.
    My sister wiped her hands on a nearby cloth and turned a face of beatific bliss to me. “The world is our oyster now, Rose love. It’s London and society for us.”
    I sat up in bed, stretching my arms high above my head. I felt much better for the sleep. “I can’t help thinking something will change. I’m not sure I want all this.”
    Lizzie laughed. “You must be mad. We can enter society at the highest level now. We can have all the beautiful things we want. We can pick and choose, Rose. Pick and choose.” Her voice trailed off, as her imagination took hold.
    I interrupted her reverie, hugging my knees for comfort. “I’m not sure I want all that. After all, I’m twenty-five and all the clothes in the world won’t hide that. I’ll still be an old maid. Just a richer one.”
    “But you’ll be a fresh face, Rose. You have maturity and grace and—things like that. And if you don’t take, you’ll be able to set up your own establishment, if you want to.”
    That hadn’t occurred to me so far, and I had to admit, it did put a rosier glow on our new station in life. I would no longer have to squeeze into a corner of an overcrowded mansion, looking after my younger siblings, nephews and nieces. This was the common lot of a dependant, unmarried woman of my station in life. Good for nothing, trained for nothing but how to be a conformable wife. Independence would atone for many things I now stood to lose.
    Lizzie must have seen my expression change. “There, now. I knew you’d see the advantages after you’d rested. Rose, I won’t be hypocritical, not with you. We didn’t know the last two earls and while I would never have wished such a terrible fate on them I cannot be sorry that the title has fallen to us.”
    Lizzie smiled encouragingly, the smile warming her face to enchantment. It was to her own merit that she set no store by such tricks.
    I smiled back. “No one will look at me twice, next to you.”
    I was not being overly modest. Merely honest. Lizzie had everything required of a modern beauty—small stature, with clear skin, limpid blue eyes, hair like spun silk and a charming personality. I had always known that. From the moment of her come out, young men fell at her feet. She knew it, too.
    “You have your qualities, Rose. You’ll find someone.”
    “What? A widower wanting a