Sleeping Engagement

VIII. The Lost Girl

Coming back to Wickhurst meant confronting more work.

And the twins.

"Well? How did it go?" asked Ysabella as she sashayed into Margaret's room with Emma in tow.

Margaret stared at her sisters. They were both eighteen, the same age as her when she thought the world was wonderful. Their faces glimmered with the same light as hers when she and Tori spent their time with naught but ideas of love and balls.

"Do you mean the Theobald party?"

"No, we meant Tori and Levi."

Margaret narrowed her eyes at them. "There is no Tori and Levi, sisters. There is just you, little devils, planning and playing games on people. Do not make Tori and Levi your next victims. I'm warning you. Tori does not need games. She needs a husband."

"Oh, very well," Emma said with a sigh, walking out the door, followed by Ysabella.

"I told you she'd say that. Maggie is the most predictable, isn't she?" Margaret heard Ysabella say to Emma.

Shaking her head, Margaret locked her bedchamber and proceeded to the connecting door that led to her private study and went straight to work.

Picking up her pen, she dipped it in the inkwell and began composing a report to Calan Haverston. She told him about Edmund Trilby and his curious connection to Cole Devitt.

After the report, she began her own inquiries.

If it would not be against the instructions of the League, I would like to request a few more details about Osmond Trilby. Any information on his connection with Edmund Trilby would be much appreciated.

-M

Once done, Margaret called for the butler, Jefferson, the only person she entrusted her letters to all these years.

There was no time to rest for her, she thought, as she watched Jefferson leave. Tori was in dire need of help. And there was Cole Devitt walking about Wickhurst, doing whatever it was he was doing and she wondered how she could spy on him without getting caught. He knew her more than any of the others she spied on before, which could be a problem. As the twins said, she was predictable.

But she wasn't. Ysabella only said that because she didn't know what Margaret really did.

"Or what I'm capable of," she said with a smile.

***

Wickhurst and many other affluent places in the Town relied heavily on the service people. Lords and ladies could barely live a day without a maid to dress them, change their linens, pour hot water into their tubs, fix their hair, serve their food—among many others.

For most of these servants, their entire day was spent working. If they were lucky to have landed into a good-natured home, they could obtain a few weeks of vacation to spend with families and friends.

But, sadly, not all could be considered lucky. Some had spent years—even their entire lives—in the service of their masters and mistresses. Most never married and those who were could barely keep their families together.

The service people could very well outnumber their masters, but they were still amongst the poorest of the population.

But they were paid still, their masters would argue. They were given roofs over their heads and food to nourish their body. The few townsends they earned were not the only things they got from their masters and they were not considered as slaves, the gentries would say.

True enough, after some lawmakers fought for the rights of servants, it had become a law that all servants should be paid fair amount for their services. Slavery was abolished.