Betty laughed and shook her head. “They do not see me even when I am very close to them,” she said, backing away towards the door. “I am certain they will not see me on Friday evening, either.”
Delilah had been quite correct in her assumptions that none of the established ladies would come to bid her farewell. The carriage was ready and waiting for her, but she had to carry her own cases to the carriage. No one came to assist her; no one came to ensure that she made her way to the transport safely. Only the driver climbed down—begrudgingly—from his perch to lift her cases onto the top.
“They didn’t even offer me anything,” he grumbled as Delilah placed the last of her things down, shivering in the cold wind. “Not even a glass of water.”
“I—I am sorry about that,” Delilah stammered, a little uncertain as to what else she could offer. “I would be glad to stop somewhere for a little refreshment if that would be of use.”
The driver said nothing, looking at her steadily in the gloom as her glance darted to the ground and then back to his face, uncertain as to whether or not he thought her foolish.
“That is kind of you, miss,” he said after a few moments. “I certainly would be grateful for it.”
She offered him a slightly tentative smile, the moonlight highlighting his craggy features. He set her case down again and, with a small inclination of his head, opened the carriage door for her.
“Thank you,” Delilah murmured, stepping inside quickly so that he might shut the door again. Letting out a long breath, she settled back against the squabs and tried not to allow her anxious nerves to take a complete hold of her.
“Good evening, Miss Delilah.”
A shriek came to her lips, but Delilah stifled it with a great effort. She had not even heard the carriage door on her right open, and certainly had not seen Betty climbing inside.
“I am sorry, Miss,” Betty whispered, her whole being almost entirely shrouded in black. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“Betty,” Delilah breathed as the driver finished hefting the cases onto the top of the carriage and climbed back up onto his seat, the carriage shifting right and left, squeaking as it did so. “I am so grateful for your willingness to come with me.”
The carriage began to roll forward, and Delilah let out a long, slow breath, her eyes closing tightly. “They are not chasing after you it seems.”
“No,” Betty chuckled, pushing down the hood of a thick, black cloak that Delilah had never seen before. “I told you that the established ladies never really pay me much attention. They will begin to notice when the work is not done, however, but that will not be for a day or so.”
Delilah nodded to herself, attempting to allow this to reassure her. “And they have not shown any interest in discovering the whereabouts of my uncle’s residence.”
Leaning across the carriage, Betty clasped Delilah’s hand. “You need not worry, Miss Delilah,” she said firmly. “I do not intend to go back there or to leave your side, no matter what your uncle might think.”
“You have more bravery than I,” Delilah answered honestly, “but I cannot express to you just how grateful I am for your company, Betty. It means so much to me.”
Clouds began to cover the moon, and the flickers of light that had come into the carriage began to fade away. Delilah closed her eyes and rested her head back, feeling both anxiety and relief. Relief that she was gone from the school but fear as to what might now be waiting for her at her uncle’s house. Just what sort of gentleman would he force her to wed? And would she have strength enough to face whatever was waiting for her once she returned to the only home she had ever known?
Chapter One
“Miss Delilah. Miss Delilah!”
Delilah groaned groggily as a firm hand shook her awake. Wincing, she tried to open her eyes but found them heavy, her whole body aching.
“We are in London, Miss Delilah!”
“London?”
She was awake in a moment, staring all around her as she looked at the great buildings, the many carriages that went by her on the other side.
“I am sure it is London,” Betty said with a twist of excitement in her voice. “I was here before, before I was employed by the school. I am certain that we are in London!”
Delilah swallowed hard, straightening a little more as she realized where she was going. Her father had once had a townhouse in London, which her uncle had obviously inherited. This must be where they were to go, meaning that it was, most likely, the start of the Season. Delilah had never been to London for the Season before but had certainly heard of it from her father and from some of the other ladies that had been in the school.
“The gentleman my uncle intends me to marry must be in London,” she whispered, sitting back as her heart began to pound frantically, sweat beading on her brow. “Oh, Betty, I am so very afraid.” The last time she had seen her uncle, he had been a great, looming figure, practically throwing her into the carriage that would take her to the school. She had wept and cried every moment of that journey, broken over the loss of her parents and the sudden appearance of this cruel uncle in their place.
“Your uncle is not a good man?” Betty asked gently.
“No,” Delilah answered, her voice shaking. “I do not think he is. I am afraid of what he will do and, given that I am his charge, there is very little I can do.”
Betty reached across and pressed her hand. “I am sure you will find enough courage, Miss Delilah.”
“I must hope so,” she answered, wishing she had any form of strength in place of the weakness that pulled at her. The carriage continued on its journey towards her uncle’s townhouse, and Delilah concentrated on breathing slowly, closing her eyes and forcing her fear down.
“Look, Miss Delilah!”
Delilah opened her eyes to see the carriage beginning to move towards a grand townhouse. Delilah had never been to London before and so she did not know what her late father’s townhouse looked like—but it was not the townhouse that Betty had pointed out. Instead, Delilah’s attention was drawn towards a gentleman standing on the stone steps—but just in front of him, her head held high as though she were someone with a good deal of status and grandeur, stood an older lady with gray hair and a sharpness to her eyes that sent fear into Delilah’s heart.
“I do not know who she is,” Delilah whispered, her hands pressed to her heart. “I do not think that I have ever seen her before.”
“Is she your uncle’s wife?” Betty asked, but Delilah shook her head no. There was no time to ask anything more, for the carriage came to a stop and the door opened for her.
Taking in a deep breath and praying that she would not give the appearance of weakness, Delilah climbed out of the carriage carefully and came to stand at the bottom of the stone steps. She did not look at her uncle but kept her eyes averted, as she knew he would expect.
“What is that?”
Her uncle’s voice was harsh, twisting cruelly as he spoke. Delilah dared a glance at him and saw that he was looking at Betty.
“She is my lady’s maid, Uncle,” she said, relieved that her voice did not shake. “That is all.”