Juliana spluttered. “How abominably rude!”
Clearly, this man was an indication of a master with a similar temperament. Or Lord Rawlings most certainly did not have his staff in hand. Still, she obeyed, desperate to escape the chilling downpour. Reaching the servant’s entrance, she knocked and was allowed to enter a large kitchen that immediately enveloped her in warmth.
“You are soaked through, aren’t you?” A plump-faced woman asked, dusting off her apron. “Tis a sorry sight you are, and too late.”
“Too late?” Juliana asked, standing still in the puddle she made on the stone floor. It was a relief to see a friendly face.
“Aren’t you here for the housekeeper position? It was filled over two hours ago. The only vacancy is for milord’s valet, and it needs to be filled right away since he’ll need to depart tomorrow.”
“Oh, I am not here for a job,” she hurriedly assured the nice woman who seemed to be the cook. “I wish an audience with the earl. It is most urgent!”
“You and everybody,” the cook muttered, walking over to a large wooden board, and started to chop shallots with impressive speed.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You will just have to stand in line like everybody else and wait till milord is available. He is off somewhere, and it might take weeks for him to surface.”
Her heart sank. “He is not here?”
“He’s here all right, but he’s not here if you know what I mean.”
Juliana most certainly did not, and she stared at the woman, decidedly baffled. “I do not understand.”
“Milord’s nose is buried in one of his books, and he’ll not be home to anyone until he’s come out of the book. It is the way of things with milord.”
“This is an emergency,” Juliana said, swiping at the rivulet on her forehead.
“Unless the house is burning down, you’ll need to make an appointment like everyone else,” the cook said. “The only thing milord needs is a valet, for he intends to set off for his country estate tomorrow. Mr. Hanson is none too pleased with how topsy turvy everything is.”
“Mr. Hanson?” she asked, wiping the water from her cheek.
“The butler. He’s not happy that the master is to travel down without a manservant.”
“The earl is leaving?”
The cook frowned. “Tis normal for his lordship to withdraw once all his duties in the House of Lords are over.”
“And where is the earl going?”
The cook frowned at her. “To his country seat in Sussex.”
The earl was retiring to his country estate tomorrow and would likely be there for the rest of the year. Disappointment lodged heavily against her heart. A few minutes later, Juliana was standing outside. The bleakness of the sky a perfect reflection of her mood. Her throat burned, and her eyes ached intolerably. It was very tempting to give in to all the raw, chaotic feelings and cry. “I will not allow them to steal my choices,” she whispered fiercely. “But what to do?”
Her mother had allowed the viscount to take over administering Juliana’s monthly allowance, and he had withheld it for the last three months. Her mother acted frail and flustered when Juliana and the viscount had argued. Her stepfather had accused her of being far too independent with her spending, and her mother had actually apologized on her daughter’s behalf.
Juliana blew out a sharp breath. How it infuriated her that someone she had given her trust to had placed her in this awful predicament. Only a few months ago, she’d thought her mother’s new husband was someone to hold in high esteem and had given him her respect. How short-sighted that had been. He had appeared such a nice man who treated her mother so well. The idea that her fortune would not remain in his family had been too big a temptation for him to resist. At first, his son had been fairly charming. He had done his best to court her, but the more she had spent time with Matthew Chevers, the more she found she disliked him.
With a sigh, Juliana glanced back at the townhouse. She had heard the rumors that labeled the young earl an eccentric, albeit a brilliant one. He’d completed his University studies at the age of seventeen, a feat that was very unusual in English society. Her brother had called him a good friend and seemed to ardently admire the earl.
Perhaps he, too, would have alerted her stepfather. Juliana’s presence might well have been a nuisance, a distraction from his precious books. “What do I do?” she whispered, her throat aching.
Juliana walked away, with no direction in mind. She had little money, and the people known to her in Town were more acquaintances than genuine friends. “What I need is to hide in plain sight.”
Preferably away from London and Derbyshire.
Sussex maybe.
Juliana froze, her thoughts furiously churning. Could she find a way to infiltrate the Earl of Rawlings’s household and plead her case? Perhaps assess his character before she told him of her plight. The earl needed a valet most urgently. How hard would it be to transform herself into a gentleman? If she acted fast, possibly she could pawn the necklace she wore, it had two strings of natural pearls and a ruby clasp. It would fetch her at least two hundred pounds. With that money she could find safe lodgings in a hotel after making some necessary purchases. In fact, she could travel about for the next two months until she was of age with that amount. But, even if she were to disguise herself as a man, such an undertaking would be too dangerous, far more so than the alternative.
She lifted a hand to her hair, a bite of regret curling through her. The most tremendous loss would be of her heavy dark tresses. Unless it could be tamed, and a wig fitted. Hope and excitement unfurled through Juliana, and she quickened her pace, intending to visit High Holborn and search for a reputable pawn store.
Her form had always been petite, her lady’s charms almost nonexistent. Her mother had often gently reassured Juliana she was simply a late bloomer. But a couple of years ago, she had accepted her body was not the type to bloom. Once in trousers and the full ensemble of men’s clothes, it should be easy to pretend to be a man and a worker in an Earl’s home.
Valets did not wear the house livery but dressed as a gentleman. She wouldn’t be an ordinary servant, reporting to the butler or the housekeeper, Juliana would be answerable only to the earl. And if his nose were continually in a book, that would be perfect! Considering the delicate nature of womanhood, there should be enough privacy for her ruse to be successful, since in the domestic quarters she would have a room of her own.
Juliana clearly recalled her stepfather manservant’s duties—his most important occupation had been to ensure his master appeared to the best advantage. She had always been reasonably independent and so could iron and repair her own clothes if necessary. On occasion, she had even polished her own boots. Though that was only to cover up her unchaperoned escapades into the woods of their Hertfordshire estate from the stifling expectations of her mother and stepfather. Not having to explain away the mud had been the simplest way to avoid being rebuked for behaving in an unladylike manner.
As his valet, she would be responsible for ensuring the earl was well-dressed and immaculate. Would he need her to shave him? Juliana had shaved her father many times before he died when his hands had shaken a little.
I am certainly not an expert at it, but I think I could manage. The very notion of assisting the earl in that manner felt rather intimate. Juliana felt a little unsure if her knowledge was sufficient. A moment of panic almost overwhelmed her senses. What did she know of men’s clothes? And what if she were not convincing enough to be hired?