The Honorable Miss Annelise Kempton did not suffer fools
gladly. Unfortunately it was her lot in life to suffer
them far too often, and to maintain a relatively polite
mien in the face of idiocy. It came from being penniless,
almost thirty years old, unmarried, not a beauty and far
too bright for a woman.
She'd accepted that lot long ago, with her usual lack of
self-pity. Her profligate father hadn't been able to
arrange any chance of marriage, but her godmother, Lady
Prentice, had managed to provide her with a season when
she was seventeen. Which, as her astringent older sister,
Eugenia, had pointed out, was a total waste of money,
since Annelise was hardly the type to attract many
suitors. Eugenia herself had refused the offer of a
season, knowing her own limitations, and married a vicar
in Devon, where she happily ran her household, her
husband, the church and the village.
But no offers had appeared for Annelise, who was taller
than most of the indolent young men of society and
unfortunately blunt, and her godmother chose to sponsor
her younger sister, Diana, the next time around. Diana at
last had succeeded, marrying a plump, pompous widower with
three children and then promptly presenting him with four
more.
And Annelise stayed at home, watching her father lose
everything, including, eventually, his life in a drunken
riding accident.
Lady Prentice stepped in once more, but there hadn't been
much she could do. Diana would have welcomed her into her
home, but Diana's husband was a toad, the children were
spoiled, and she would do nothing more than take care of
the litter as it yearly increased.
Eugenia would have taken her โ she was a woman who knew
her duty, but two strong-minded women could hardly share
the same household, and besides, Joseph's vicarage was
barely large enough for their two children and three
servants. There was no room for a spinster aunt.
And the Honorable Miss Kempton could hardly work for a
living in any of the posts suitable to one of a slightly
lesser station. She might have been a companion or a
governess, but her bloodlines went back to the Magna
Carta, and no Kempton could accept money for services
rendered.
They could, however, accept hospitality. And in the five
years since her father's death, Annelise had lived with
the Duke and Duchess of Warwick, proving a good friend to
the dying duchess and keeping news of her husband's
infidelities away from her fading eyes. Once the duchess
passed away there was no place for her, and she moved to
the Merediths in Yorkshire, where she spent her time
entertaining a half-senile old lady, speaking French with
the passably well-behaved grandchildren and growing older.
But the old lady died, as old ladies tend to do, and the
children grew and had no interest in French since their
countries were, as usual, at war, and once more Annelise
moved on, this time to the London home of one Mr. Josiah
Chipple and his exquisitely beautiful daughter, Hetty.
Lady Prentice, the architect behind these living
arrangements, had manufactured a lifelong friendship
between Annelise's mother and Hetty Chip-ple's
grandmother, ignoring the fact that one of Hetty Chipple's
grandmothers was a barmaid and the other a farm girl. Not
that it mattered. No one was going to bother to check the
gentle fiction, and Hetty Chipple was about to make her
debut in a society that would fall upon her like a pack of
wolves. She was young, she was beautiful and what she
lacked in breeding and background she more than made up
for in fortune. There were dozens of young men willing to
overlook the smell of the shop for the needed influx of
money, and that sort of thing bred itself out in a
generation or two, while the sort of money Miss Chipple
had could last much, much longer if carefully tended.
The first sight of the town house was not reassuring to
the Honorable Miss Annelise Kempton. Chipple House had
been carved into the marble plaque beside the commanding
front door, and the front hallway was so littered with
marble statues that one had to move very carefully to
avoid knocking into one. The effect, clearly meant to be
tasteful and pleasing, was instead over-blown and chaotic.
She was shown into a drawing room decorated in just the
wrong shade of blue, and the furniture was all very new,
very shiny and very uncomfortable. She sat on the cerulean
sofa, her back ramrod straight, her long, gloved hands
folded in her lap, and considered taking off her glasses
so as to dull the effect of the rococo trim on the walls.
She glanced upward, as if seeking heavenly guidance, only
to find a painted ceiling that was a far cry from the
Italian masters who had perfected the art. She lowered her
eyes to her lap again, looked at the gray kid gloves that
lay against her gray wool skirt and sighed.
She hadn't a vain bone in her body, but surely a new dress
now and then shouldn't be too much to ask. Except, of
course, that her visitations were that of a guest, not an
employee, and one could not accept anything so personal as
a gift. Lady Prentice had paid for her wardrobe when her
father died, mourning and demi-mourning, all of the best
cloth that lasted forever and would never wear out,
soAnnelise went through her drab life in drab colors, and
probably would until she died.
She'd considered eating huge amounts of food so that the
clothes would no longer fit her, but unfortunately her
constitution was such that she could never put any extra
weight on her spare body. When she did, it went straight
to her already full breasts, and that was not a part of
her anatomy that she cared to have straining at the dull
gray cloth.
She reached up and moved her spectacles up a bit. She
needed them more for reading than anything else, but felt
they gave her a distinguished air that went well with her
narrow, plain face and severe hair. She looked like what
she was: a well-bred virgin of no attraction and therefore
worthy of no untoward attention.
She dropped her glasses back down on her straight nose and
sighed again. A lesser woman would have relaxed her
backbone, at least while no one was there, but the
Honorable Miss Annelise Kempton was no such laggard. She
sat, and she waited, until she heard the sound of voices
and laughter from the hall beyond the closed doors.
It was late morning โ prime visiting time, but she had
been told โ no, requested โ to arrive then, and so she
had. Her clothes had already been taken to a guest
bedroom, and all that was needed was to meet her host and
his young daughter so she could decide just how much work
lay ahead of her.
It was always difficult for people to assess her position
in their households. Sometimes she was put in one of the
better guest rooms, other times she was put in a place
little better than a maid's room. Having had a good look
at the decor in Chipple House, she was rather hoping for
the latter this time around. Mr. Chipple's propensity for
bright colors would be hard to live with, and few people
bothered to do more than was absolutely necessary with the
rooms the servants inhabited. As long as she had her own
room she would be content. She had an aversion to sharing
a bed with a stranger, particularly since most people she
knew didn't share her affection for frequent bathing. It
was the one thing she insisted on, and she usually got her
way.
She heard the sounds of a man's voice โ low, beguiling and
too quiet for her to make out the words, but the timbre of
it was doubtless irresistible. Not her host. It could only
be her young charge who shrieked with un-seemly laughter,
and there was no missing the booming jocularity of another
man, one who must be her host. Josiah Chipple was a self-
made man, and his origins showed in his speech. She
wondered if she'd be required to work on that, as well.
She was up to any task they asked of her, but that didn't
mean she had to like it. She would smile, nod and behave
herself unless pushed too far, and then Miss Chipple would
marry gloriously and the Honorable Miss Annelise Kempton
would move on to her next station on the road of life.
She was getting disgustingly maudlin, Annelise thought to
herself, dismissing the morbid thought. She was in London,
the most fascinating city in the world; she would
doubtless be warm, comfortable and well fed. There would
be books aplenty in this house to keep her occupied when
she wasn't making certain Miss Hetty was behaving herself.
And this way she was dependent on no one's charity, always
a boon.
She could hear the heavy thud of the front door, the
sounds of footsteps as they moved back toward the
reception room she sat in, and she waited, half expecting
to hear the crash of one of those huge statues. Instead
she heard voices. Miss Hetty Chipple was not happy to have
her here.
"Why do I have to do this, Father?" she asked in a
plaintive tone. Even muffled through the thick doors it
was not an unattractive voice, despite the faint whine.
She had the proper, classless diction of a well-brought-up
young lady โ at least Annelise wouldn't be charged with a
sow's ear.
The rumbling voice of her father was far less
genteel. "Because I say you do, pet," he said. "You'll be
moving into a new life, far grander than any one you've
ever known, and there are all sorts of tricks and rules an
old sea dog like me would never know. I want the best for
you, Hetty, and I intend to pay for it. Besides, the
Honorable Miss Kempton is doing this out of the kindness
of her heart."
"Ha!" said Miss Hetty.
"Ha!" thought Miss Kempton, grimacing. And then rose
gracefully as the door opened and she caught her first
glimpse of the young lady.
To call Hetty Chipple a pretty young lady would be an
understatement of the grossest order. She was
breathtaking, from the top of her golden curls to the
slippers on her tiny feet. Her waist was tiny, her breasts
were pleasing, her eyes a bright, cerulean blue (obviously
her doting father had been trying to match their hue when
he'd had this room painted), her mouth a Cupid's bow. She
moved into the room with a consummate grace that made the
usually elegant Annelise feel awkward, and when she smiled
politely she exposed perfect white teeth.
Josiah Chipple was just as she'd imagined him, a plain, no-
nonsense sort of man in a plain coat of brown superfine.
He had big, hamlike hands, a nose that had been broken at
least once, beetling brows and a stubborn jaw. "My dear
Miss Kempton!" he said with his thick, Lancashire
accent. "You do honor to our poor household. We are both
so sorry we kept you waiting, when you've been so kind as
to accept our invitation. We had an unexpected visitor โ"
"My future husband," Hetty interrupted.
Her father cast her a reproving look. "Now, now, Hetty,
we're not rushing into anything. You can have your pick of
almost anyone on the marriage mart โ no sense jumping at
the first stallion who wanders into the pasture."
"He's not the first โ but he's the prettiest," Hetty said
defiantly.
"We'll see. The season has just begun. Why don't you show
Miss Kempton to her rooms? She must be exhausted from her
travels."
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