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“Y ou are to inherit five thousand per annum from the estate in perpetuity,” the solicitor said.

“Excellent!” That was exactly what she wanted to hear. A good income that would keep her comfortably housed for the rest of her life. It wasn’t an enormous amount, but in Boston or Philadelphia it would certainly be enough.

“The annuity will be paid to you every year on the anniversary of your father’s passing,” he continued.

“That’s fine. I’ll just need to arrange for it to be carried to me in America. Is there some sort of courier—”

“Ah, no, I’m sorry, madam, but you must come in person to claim the funds yourself.”

“What? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of!” Amelia said, jumping to her feet.

The solicitor rose to his as well. “I am merely reading out the conditions of the will, madam. Please,” he indicated she regain her seat.

She sat, but not willingly. “Well, the will is ridiculous,” she repeated. And then it dawned on her what her father had done. “Of course,” she said, throwing her head back. “He did that on purpose. If I have to come and pick up the money myself, then I have to be here in England to do it. This was his way of forcing me to stay in the country.”

“Er, yes, yes. I do believe you are correct in your assessment,” the man said. He gave her a look that showed he was impressed she had figured that out.

“Well, I’m not going to do it,” Amelia announced.

“Er, but then I won’t be able to disperse the funds to you.”

“I will deputize someone to collect them for me,” Amelia told him.

“I’m so sorry, but it states that you must collect them in person, yourself.”

“But what if I move to the countryside or become too old or infirm?” Amelia argued.

The man shook his head. “Then you won’t get the money. I’m sorry but that is the stipulation of the bequest. You must be in the country, and you must collect the money—”

“Yes, yes, I heard you,” she said, interrupting him rudely. “Well, find a way around this. You’re a solicitor, aren’t you?”

“I am indeed, madam, but I cannot change what is written here.”

“I don’t care what’s written there. Perhaps we can argue that his intentions were not to force me to stay in the country. Perhaps his intentions—”

“I beg your pardon, but his intentions were to keep you in the country.”

“Yes, I know that,” she said, beginning to be completely disgusted by this man. “But we have to find a way around it.”

“I am terribly sorry but—”

“I said, find a way around it,” she repeated.

“Madam, I can only go by what is actually written here in—”

“I don’t bloody-well care what it says in his will,” she shouted. She could not stand this man, not a moment longer. “Find a way around it. I want my money with no strings attached. You may call on me when you have found a way around my father’s stipulations.”

She stormed from the office, then paused to collected herself. A tall, slender, older man was sitting in one of the wooden chairs on the landing. He jumped to his feet the moment she slammed the door behind her.

“I’d say he got your message, but whether he can actually do what you’ve asked is another matter entirely. Wills are notoriously difficult seeing as how the person who wrote it is no longer around to clarify their meaning nor make changes as we might wish,” the man said, giving her a warm smile.

Her hackles were still up. How dare this stranger comment on a situation he knew nothing about. She narrowed her eyes at him. “And what do you know of my personal business?”

“I do beg your pardon, but I couldn’t help but overhear.” He glanced toward the door. It was a rather flimsy looking thing, she realized. He’d probably heard everything she’d said.

“ Harumph. Well, perhaps you should mind your own business.”

“I probably should, but I must say, it never got me anywhere. Mr. Harold Sherman.” He bowed.

Amelia made a snap decision. She liked this man. She lifted her lips into a reluctant smile. “Amelia Rutledge.”

“How do you do, er, Lady Rutledge? Mrs. Rutledge?” he asked, trying to ferret out her correct title. In London, one never knew.

She burst out with a laugh. “Missus. My father may have been an earl, but I am plain Mrs. Rutledge and quite happy that way.”

“You are nowhere near plain, Mrs. Rutledge, if I may be so bold as to say so. But I am happy to make your acquaintance. I only wish I could do something to assist you in some way.”

“Likewise. Sadly, unless you can either raise the dead or go back in time, I don’t believe there’s anything you can do. Unfortunately, there probably isn’t anything that damned solicitor can do either, despite my demands.”

Mr. Sherman nodded in agreement. “It is such a shame that you are undoubtedly right. Are the will’s stipulations so very horrible?”

She lost her smile as she thought of the terms of her father’s will. She frowned and said, “Yes! He insisted I stay in the country in order to receive my inheritance. It’s entirely…” She let out a noise that so very clearly expressed her frustration.

“Is living in England so very bad that you can’t wait to leave?” the gentleman asked, curious. “For myself, I have to admit, I’ve never even considered living anywhere else. Can’t stand the French, wouldn’t be able to bear the heat of India, where else would one want to live?”

“I haven’t lived here for over fifteen years. I much prefer Boston. Goodness, even Philadelphia would be preferable to London.”

“Ahhh, America. Never been there. And you like it?” he asked.

“Mr. Sherman!” a surprised squeak came from behind them.

The gentleman turned to see Mr. Melrose standing in his office doorway, staring.

“If you will please excuse me. I see it is my turn with the esteemed solicitor.” Mr. Sherman bowed, but before he went to speak with the man, he gave Amelia a smile. “I do hope we have the opportunity to meet again. Do you attend society functions?”

Her eyes widened. “I hadn’t planned on doing so. Do you?”

“Bringing my daughter out. Perhaps you might consider attending one. I would greatly enjoy continuing this conversation another time.” With that he bowed and went off to calm the nervous-looking solicitor.

~April 18~

Ellen couldn’t sit still. She had an appointment with the Duchess of Warwick that afternoon, and she was nervous. She paced back and forth in the drawing room, clenching her hands together, opening them, and then grasping them together again.

“My goodness, has a bee gotten up your skirts?” Aunt Amelia asked from just inside the door.

Ellen spun around to her, then laughed. “The expression I’ve heard is a bee in your bonnet.”

The woman waved a negligent hand. “What has you in such a tizzy that you’re pacing back and forth, girl?”

“Nothing, really. I—I’ve got an appointment with the Duchess of Warwick this afternoon, and I’m a little nervous, that’s all,” Ellen said, forcing herself to sit on the sofa.

“A duchess, huh? Well, they’re just like you and me. Nothing to be worried over. I’m sure she’ll be perfectly amenable. Why are you seeing her?” Aunt Amelia asked, lounging in a most unladylike fashion on a chair opposite.

“Oh, I know she is extremely kind and sweet. It is not the meeting with her that has me nervous. She’s going to help me purchase a few new gowns, and I’m just a little anxious about what she might ask me to buy. I know so little about current fashion, and I don’t know how bold I should go. I mean, I am a widow, and so I suppose people expect one to wear a certain style of dress. I just… I don’t know,” Ellen said, pouring out her fears.

“So you’re worried about dresses?” Aunt Amelia asked, trying to untangle Ellen’s words.

“Well, yes. Yes, I suppose that’s it exactly.”

“Huh. I can’t say I’ve ever known anyone to be nervous about that. Well, why don’t you just buy whatever you’re comfortable with and dismiss her advice entirely?” She paused for a moment and added, “Why are you buying new gowns, anyway? What’s wrong with the ones you have?”

“They’re all violet or gray. I’ve been wearing half-mourning for over two years now. It’s long past time I returned to colors,” Ellen explained. “And the reason I’m going shopping with the duchess is precisely to get her advice. She used to be a modiste—before she became a duchess, naturally—and has an excellent eye for fashion. I asked her to help me choose my new gowns, and she was kind enough to agree to do so.”

“Oh! That’s unusual, but then you should have nothing to worry about,” Aunt Amelia said.

“I suppose not. I say, would you like to come? You could probably use some new dresses yourself,” Ellen asked.

“Me? What use would I have for new dresses? Mine are all made precisely the way I like them,” Aunt Amelia said. She lifted one side of her gown, and Ellen noticed something she hadn’t before.

She leaned forward and looked more closely. “Is your gown…? I’m sorry, but when you pulled at your skirt for a moment it looked…”

Aunt Amelia stood up and pulled her skirt out on either side. “Yes, it’s a split skirt,” she said with a laugh.

“Oh my goodness! Why… why would you ever do that? Have that? Are they for riding instead of a habit?” Ellen asked, absolutely shocked.

“It is excellent for riding,” Aunt Amelia agreed. “I also just find it much more comfortable. More freedom. I can walk as I wish without having to worry about the limitations of my skirts. I can run or ride or—”

“Run? Why would you need to run?” Ellen asked, interrupting her.

“Well, here in London, I probably wouldn’t. When we were visiting the Shawnee and other people we encountered in the west, you never knew when you might need to make a quick getaway,” Aunt Amelia answered with a loud crack of laughter.

Ellen couldn’t help her shock at such a thought. A small tickle of interest nudged the back of her mind, however, and a little voice whispered, “Oooh, how exciting!” She quickly shook it free. How ridiculous! It was not exciting; it was scary and disturbing. She would never want to be in such a situation. Never, she told herself firmly.

“Well, I’m certain you won’t have such a need here, so you might want to see about getting yourself something more traditional.”

Aunt Amelia gave a little shrug as she plopped back down onto the chair.

“What if you want to go to a ball or soirée? You couldn’t wear something like that there,” Ellen pointed out.

“Why would I…” Aunt Amelia started, but then her voice petered out. “You know, I might… my goodness I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, yes, I might want to go to a party.”

“Why shouldn’t you? You’re here in London. You should go to parties.”

“Normally, it’s not something I’d be interested in,” Aunt Amelia said. “But I met a man today, and he mentioned that he was planning on attending some parties and suggested that we might meet again there.”

“You met… Did you get his name?” Ellen asked, suddenly very curious.

“Mr. Harold Sherman. Do you know him?” Aunt Amelia asked, sitting up.

“Sherman? That name sounds familiar… yes, of course! Miss Benton’s friend is named Sherman. Miss Sherman. I don’t remember her first name, I’m afraid.”

“Yes! He said his daughter was making her debut. I have to say, I’m quite impressed with society. I didn’t think they allowed just anyone to be brought out,” Aunt Amelia commented.

“They don’t! Miss Sherman… well, I don’t know where she’s from or who might be sponsoring her,” Ellen admitted.

“After speaking with Mr. Sherman, I am certain he’s not of the nobility. He is, however, a most intriguing gentleman. Not bad looking either—for an older man.” She barked out a laugh. “As if I were one to talk!”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I am an older woman, so…”

“Oh, I see. But isn’t there a Mrs. Sherman?” Ellen asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose he would not have suggested we meet at a party if there were, unless she’s elsewhere or just forgiving,” Aunt Amelia said with a shrug.

“Aunt Amelia!” Ellen protested.

“What? We’re adults. Such things happen,” she said with a smile.

“Would you?” Ellen asked, not sure whether she should be appalled or not.

“I might, if he were interested and interesting. I have to say, I do miss my Abraham.”

“Goodness! I don’t think I want to hear another word. Come, we should leave to meet with the duchess,” Ellen said, standing up.

Aunt Amelia followed Ellen out to the carriage, which was already waiting just as she’d requested.