“Yes.” Mr. Ellis put a shaking hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a penny, placing the coin in her hand. “You’re a good girl, Sophie.”
She nodded, knowing the coin was more a bribe for her silence to Mrs. Ellis than payment for the errand. In the eight years that she’d lived with the Ellises, she’d learned that it was best to keep her distance from the missus altogether. Sophie’s younger self had found a way to do this by performing small tasks for Mr. Ellis.
At first, she’d fetched hammer pins, click screws, and gathering plates for him. But it wasn’t long before Mr. Ellis began showing her how to use the tools and fix the clocks herself. Sophie had steady hands. Mr. Ellis did not—especially when he was sober. And today, since Mrs. Bidwell had paid in advance, he was not going to be sober for much longer.
Sophie watched Mr. Ellis drag his wooden leg out of the shop and into the street before pocketing the penny. She was eighteen years old now, and she needed every cent she could get her hands on to start a new life. Placing the snail over the cannon pinion and hour wheel, she used the metal pick to screw it into place. Next, she put on the minute wheel and secured it with the minute wheel cock. The wheels interlocked and she carefully spun them together so that they turned around in circles.
She cringed when the front door opened, hoping it wasn’t Mrs. Bidwell. None of the villagers knew that it was Sophie who fixed the clocks. If they knew a girl and not a master clockmaker was doing the repairs, they would take their business elsewhere and the Ellises would lose the small income that they had.
Thankfully it was only Mariah. “Where is Mr. Ellis?”
Sophie exhaled and shrugged her shoulders. “Mrs. Bidwell paid him in advance.”
Mariah stepped closer to the worktable. “So he’s gone to the tavern to drink, then?”
Sophie nodded. “I don’t expect we’ll see him until he’s either run out of coins for beer or is blind drunk. Where have you been?”
“Delivering the miniatures I painted of Mrs. Johnson’s daughters.”
“Did she pay you?”
“She paid Mrs. Ellis.”
Sophie huffed in frustration. “Mariah, you should insist that you get at least some of the money. You do all the work.”
“But Mrs. Ellis pays for the paints and supplies,” Mariah said. “And provides us with a home.”
“Some home,” Sophie scoffed.
Mariah held up a letter. “On the way back, I ran into Postmaster Green, and he thought I was you, so he gave me this letter. At first I thought there must be some mistake, because we’ve never received a letter before. But then he said that you had posted a letter last week.”
Sophie released the minute wheel and looked up at her sister. “I was going to tell you about that.”
Mariah continued as if her sister hadn’t spoken. “He asked me who we knew that lived in London, but I couldn’t answer because I don’t know anyone who lives in London.”
“Mariah…,” Sophie started to explain but found she didn’t have the words.
Her sister handed her the letter, and Sophie cradled it in her hands.
“Well, are you going to open it?” Mariah asked.
Sophie looked at her sister, standing so close that their shoulders nearly touched. Mariah had the same bright red hair, blue eyes, dainty nose, and mostly straight teeth. Sophie looked down again at the letter in her thin hands. Both she and her sister were slight of frame—from too much work and too few meals.
She tried to break the seal with her thumbnail, but her hands were as shaky as Mr. Ellis’s sober ones. Sophie finally handed the letter to her sister. “The first letter I’ve ever received and I’m too afraid to read it … You do it.”
Mariah took the letter. “Why should you be afraid?”
“If Lady Bentley refuses to let us stay with her, I’ll never be able to go to London and see the Great Exhibition,” Sophie said. She took a deep breath before she continued. “I’ve almost saved enough money for a round-trip train ticket to London, but not enough for lodging or food.”
“You wrote to her?” Mariah asked, her surprise evident.
“I know that she’s refused to have anything to do with us,” Sophie admitted. “Twice. But I only asked if I could stay at her London house for a short time and see the Great Exhibition. I read about it in Mr. Fisby’s newspaper. Queen Victoria and Prince Albert built a special palace all out of glass for it.”
“Out of glass?”
“They call it the ‘Crystal Palace,’” Sophie explained, fiddling with her hands and tapping her foot. “I thought, perhaps … perhaps I could find an inventor and become an apprentice and make my fortune.”
Mariah’s face lit up like a candle in surprise. “I should have known you’d have a plan.” She broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter. “All right, stop wiggling and I’ll read it.”
Sophie began to tap her foot again. Her heart pounded as if she were running from a charging bull. Mariah put one hand on Sophie’s shoulder as she read the letter aloud:
To my niece Sophronia,
I received your letter and I am prepared to receive you, my namesake, in my home.
“Oh my goodness, Sophie!” Mariah exclaimed. “I can hardly believe it!”
“Keep reading,” Sophie begged, her heart beating even faster.
I believe it is my Christian duty to see my poor dead sister’s daughters established creditably. I shall pay for your clothing and see that you are introduced to good society—not to exhibitions where anyone may enter who pays the fee.
“Not go to the exhibition?” Sophie snapped. “Then why go to London at all?”
“Hush and let me finish,” Mariah said.
You will have one season and one season only to find a suitable husband. I am unable to receive your sister as well at this time.
Sophie heard Mariah’s breath catch, but she continued.
I can’t possibly be burdened with the care of two young ladies with my health being in decline. Once you are married, it will be your responsibility to see that your sister is well cared for. I expect to see you within a fortnight.
Yours sincerely,
Lady Bentley
Mariah set the letter on the table. “That’s settled then,” she said in a voice not quite her own. “You’ll go and find yourself a husband.”
“But I don’t want a husband,” Sophie protested. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hide her disappointment. “I want to be an inventor. You should go. You’d like a husband, I daresay. Besides, you’re prettier than I am.”
“We’re identical. I can’t possibly be prettier than you.”
“Your hair is a shade darker and I have half an inch on you.”
“She asked for her niece named Sophronia, not Mariah.”
“She would never know the difference,” Sophie retorted. “Mrs. Ellis still can’t tell us apart and we’ve lived with her for eight years. Lady Bentley’s never laid eyes on either of us.”
“Sophie, you silly thing. This might be your only chance for a better life, to join good society,” Mariah said, her voice thick with emotion.