The Emerald Domino

By Jane Garner

Lady Sophia Efffingham runs away to London rather than be forced into marriage with her weak-chinned cousin Theo. Until she turns eighteen, she’s under the thumb of her greedy aunt and uncle and can’t claim her fortune and the right to control her destiny. Without resources, she’s forced to masquerade as a maid to the handsome Earl of Bekam until her birthday.
Sophy doesn’t expect to fall in love at first sight with the earl, and she didn’t plan on the risky masquerade she falls into. But she’s determined to save the earl from marrying a society beauty out to snare the earl only for his money. Disguised as the Emerald Domino, she risks everything to sneak into masquerade balls and warn the earl.
The earl becomes intrigued with this mystery lady and begins to search for her. But Sophy’s relatives find her first and kidnap her, returning to their secluded home in Gloucester. The only person who can save her is the earl. But will he discover her identity and location in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jane Garner
• Release date: Jun 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458148735

Jane Garner

Lady Jane Garner was born in London, England on June 1, 1788. She disappeared from there in 1812 at the age of 24 and was transported forward in time by some means to Suffolk, Virginia in the Colonies appearing in 2011.She was fortunately taken in by a kindly lady who owns over fifty cats but completely believes Jane's tale of transportation.As a means of making a living, Lady Jane began writing Regency romances as she knows that period intimately.Her favorite things are new gowns, dancing the waltz with a handsome duke, and Earl Grey tea.You can follow the entertaining stories of her new life in 2011 on her blog: http://ladyjanegarner.blogspot.com

Book preview

The Emerald Domino

A Regency Romance Novella

by

Jane Garner

The Emerald Domino

Jane Garner

Smashwords Edition

© Copyright Jane Garner 2011. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, accrual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

E-books/Books are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

Chapter 1

Lady Sophia Effingham dove after the street urchin who’d stolen the purse. She landed on top of him with an umph accompanied by a sharp cry from the unfortunate lad.

Cor, ge off me ye crazy wench, the lad cried, squirming underneath her.

A crowd of onlookers from the flower and vegetable stands gathered around exclaiming in alarm and encouraging her to hold on to the little thief. Someone called for a constable. She wrenched the purse from the boy’s hand and he scrambled away, running for his life. She lay there sprawled on the cobblestones, her navy, round merino gown spoiled in the dirt.

The driver of a dray wagon helped her to her feet and she did her best to dust off the mud and muck.

There you go, Miss. A good job you did. We don’t hold with those pick-pockets. Makes a bad name for all us blokes tryin’ to make a descent livin’. He patted her shoulder.

A few others made appreciative comments but quickly moved away, getting on with their business. Sophy straightened her chip bonnet, which had gone sadly askew in her struggle. Little brat! How dare he steal from an honest person here about their business. She wished he hadn’t escaped so she could box his ears.

When she raised her head, the lady whose purse had been stolen stood before her, brow wrinkled in concern. Her kind brown eyes surveyed Sophy, concern mixed with curiosity. Sophy took a deep breath and held out the beaded reticule to the middle-aged, round shaped woman.

Here you are, ma’am. I believe this is yours? Sophy gave her a brief smile. She could have used the money in that purse. It was twelve hours since her last meal, all her funds having been spent on the coach seat to London. But thievery was, of all things, most repugnant to her. Besides, the lady wasn’t some swell with money to burn. She looked ordinary in her plain navy gown and starched white apron, an unadorned bonnet atop her gray curls.

The lady gave her a strange look, half amazement, half gratitude and held out her hand.

Thank you, my dear. I appreciate your intervention, although I am quite distraught that you might have been hurt. Are you injured?

Sophy rubbed her arms and shook her head. I am unhurt, ma’am. Please don’t concern yourself with me. I’m only happy to restore your purse.

The woman looked her up and down and pursed her lips. Come in to the inn, my dear. The least I can do is offer you some tea. I must admit I would like your company and to thank you properly for your timely interference.

It’s not necessary, Sophy murmured, taking a step back. She didn’t want anyone discovering her identity. If her uncle and aunt found her now, all was lost.

I’m Mrs. Fletcher, housekeeper to the Earl of Bekam, the lady said holding out a hand with a warm smile. And you look like you could use a spot of tea unless I’m sadly mistaken.

Sophy blinked back tears. She was hungry and scared. Maybe a little tea with this kind lady would give her the strength to go on. Very well, ma’am. May name is Sophy…uh…Potter. I would be honored to join you.

Mrs. Fletcher took her arm and led her across the street from the vender stalls to a small inn. Inside there were numerous small tables with white linen table cloths. A waiter came forward and bowed. Ma’am, would you like a table?

Yes, my good man. Mrs. Fletcher seemed to be a regular here, given the deference of the waiter.

They were led to a table for two in front of the bow window. Cheery white ruffled curtains surrounded the glass panes that overlooked the busy street. The other occupants of the room were dressed similar to Mrs. Fletcher, neat clothes of new serviceable fabrics, but without the frills, furbelows and expensive materials of the nobility. The working class, likely taking a noon-time break from their duties.

Have a seat, my dear. Mrs. Fletcher gave her a sympathetic smile and motioned to the other chair.

Sophy sank down in the chair, grateful for an opportunity to rest. She’d been on a rackety stage for the past six hours and her bones ached. She placed her portmanteau on the floor beside her.

Mrs. Fletcher ordered their tea and then studied her with more intensity than she cared for.

That was quite resourceful of you to tackle the young, er, person, Mrs. Fletcher said. She tilted her head to one side. I daresay if you hadn’t, the entire household fund for the week would be gone.

I’m glad to help. Sophy looked down. Stealing is wrong.

The waiter arrived with a tray holding a pot of tea, china cups and a plate of sandwiches and scones. Mrs. Fletcher busied herself pouring tea into the cups with occasional curious glances at Sophy.

You look a bit pale, dear. Are you certain you were not hurt? The older woman put a hand over Sophy’s on the table.

Oh, no, I’m fine, dear ma’am. Sophy looked up. Please don’t be worried about me.

Mrs. Fletcher sat back, but pushed a tea cup toward Sophy, who struggled not to gulp it down and cram a sandwich into her mouth. She had to remember her manners no matter how starved she was.

Never-the-less, it was two sandwiches and a scone before she uttered another word. An idea occurred to her that Mrs. Fletcher might be able to direct her to a place she could find a job. She was quite prepared to work as a maid or governess to earn her way. Nothing would be worse than having to go back to her uncle and aunt who would force her to marry their odious son, Theo.

My dear child. Mrs. Fetcher chuckled. You look as though you haven’t eaten in days.

Oh, no, it’s was only one day. Sophy put her hands in her lap, abashed. She’d managed to steal a hunk of bread from the pantry before she ran away, but the day before that she was locked in her room without any food at all.

She swallowed a mouthful and sat forward. Dear ma’am, I’m wondering if you might help me.

Well, of course I’ll help you if I can. You did me a great service today. Mrs. Fletcher sipped her tea.

The thing is, I find myself in need of a job. I wondered if you might know of some respectable household that needs a governess for small children or even a maid. I’m not above hard work and am completely trustworthy. She clenched her fists, desperate to find a way to make a living until she came of age and could get to her fortune. She could tell already that life in London was expensive and not accepting of those without the ability to pay their way.

Mrs. Fletcher frowned, studying her. She sipped her tea in silence and Sophy’s heart sank. No one was going to help her and then what would happen to her? Become a cutpurse like the young boy she just tackled? She shivered. Horrifying.

My dear, where are you from? The housekeeper’s expression held warmth and kindness. Where are your parents?

Sophy hung her head. My parents are dead, ma’am. I’m on my own.

Mrs. Fetcher looked skeptical. But there must be someone to take care of you. I can see you’re gently raised.

Sophy glanced at her and then out the window. There’s no one, ma’am. I had a, a, a guardian, but he…uh…perished in a horrible accident…in…India, after losing his fortune on change. And then his house was closed up and I was turned out on the street without a penny to my name. She warmed to her topic, hating to lie to this nice lady, but being caught up in the fantasy just the same. I only had enough money to bring me to London hoping I might find a job. So here I am, pockets quite to let. She threw up her hands. But I assure you I am well educated and feel certain I could teach at least small children.

Mrs. Fletcher shook her head. My dear, you are much too young and pretty to be a governess. I’m afraid most families would fear that an older son would only fall into calf-love with you and you’d be turned off in short order.

Then I can be a maid. Sophy stretched out her hands across the table. I know how to polish silver and mend linens, and oh, all sorts of useful things.

The housekeeper took her hands into hers. Are you sure you won’t tell me who takes care of you? If you’ve run away, I’m certain they’re very worried about you by now.

Sophy pictured Uncle Percy’s face, red with cheeks blown out in anger when she’d once again refused to marry Theo two days ago. And then there was Aunt Marie, her thin rigid face puckered up with displeasure telling her she’d just stay in her room without food until she agreed. No, they were only worried about her fortune. And time was ticking for them. They’d tried being pleasant, but as her birthday loomed in three months, she’d be of age and out of their clutches. With two mortgages due and numerous merchants banging on their door for payment, they were desperate to marry her off to thin-lipped, weak-chinned Theo.

She pressed her lips together, determined. No, ma’am. I’m quite alone.

Mrs. Fletcher folded her hands. Well, in that case. It so happens I’m looking for a maid for the earl. I had to turn off a flighty miss yesterday who I caught stealing silver. I think I can be sure you won’t do that.

Sophy’s heart swelled and she blinked eagerly. Oh, yes, ma’am. I’d be ever so grateful, and I never, never, ever steal. I know I shall be the hugest help to you.

Mrs. Fletcher chuckled. We shall see. Now you just come along with me. I need to purchase the vegetables for the week and then we’ll go back to his lordship’s house. I’ll appreciate help carrying the baskets.

Sophy jumped to her feet, rejuvenated from the food and hope. Now she’d have a roof over her head and something to eat. She couldn’t believe her good luck. Oh, thank you, thank you.

The older lady smiled and picked up her shopping basket. Come along, then.

###

Sophy thought her eyes would pop out of her head with they arrived by hackney coach at the Earl of Bekam’s mansion in Grosvenor Square. It rose three levels from the street with a paved circular drive up to it behind a tall, iron-gated stone fence. Marble steps led up to the heavy oak doors with the polished bronze knockers in the shape of a lion’s head.

Mrs. Fletcher pointed it out to her and then they continued around to the side alley. There, another tall fence guarded the back gardens and terrace. The coach pulled to the side of the house where a wide wooden door stood open.

We don’t go in the front door, Mrs. Fletcher said as she descended the coach steps. Two footmen stood waiting and took their purchases to carry inside. This is the servants’ entrance, remember that.

Sophy nodded, eyes wide as they made their way inside. This level was one floor below the first floor and contained the working portion of the home, the kitchen, laundry, pantry and a level down in the basement was the massive wine cellar and larder.

Mrs. Fletcher pointed, giving directions for the purchases while she pulled off her pelisse and bonnet. The cook was a tall, thin Frenchman with a pencil thin moustache who demanded to be called, Chef Pierre. He fussed over the vegetables and muttered about inferior English produce the entire time.

Look at zis cabbage, what in ze world vill I do with such a theng? He held up the offending green orb, frowning.

Cabbage stew with beef tongue is the Earl’s favorite, my dear chef, Mrs Fletcher exclaimed. Did you forget? I thought you might like to practice before he arrives.

"My dear madam, I assure you, I try to forget such a theng every day. Cabbage, bah! So bourgeoisie. He shook his head. Then his eyes focused on Sophy. And who ez zis young person?"

The new maid. Her name is Sophy Potter. I had to turn off Melissa.

Chef Pierre looked her up and down and sniffed, nose in the air. "Well, let uz hope she knows

Reviews for The Emerald Domino

[benn9314 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Very good story. Well written and was very entertaining to read