Page 5 of An Earl’s Sacrifice (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #3)

The Literary Society

Or as one envisioned

“Y ou’ve worked wonders with the library.

” The ribbons in Marigold Tremayne’s gray-streaked coiffure fluttered as did her delicate veined hand, though her eyes darted about as if she feared apparitions from the past would waver from the walls similar to that of haze or shimmer above the flames of an outdoor fire.

Meredith suppressed a shiver hating to admit the similar feeling not an hour ago.

She pushed aside the discomfort and surveyed the finished product of her efforts, smiling at her company.

The dark woodwork gleamed in the newly installed gas-powered sconces.

Elegant moldings added a warm ambience to the room along with the upholstery in floral patterns of purples, greens, and white.

All which complemented the deep undertones of the carpets.

“I’m quite pleased with the end result,” she said with a gracious nod.

“Aren’t you frightened, my lady?” Mrs. Penrose whispered.

Meredith quashed her inclination to dismiss their fears and spoke gently.

“No, Mrs. Penrose. I’ve been here almost three years now.

I’ve no need to be frightened.” Her own lingering unease faded, leaving only a soft awareness of the folly of fear, that the unknown menace was no more than a figment of her mind’s darker wanderings.

“But all those men who’ve disappeared through the years…” Mrs. Penrose’s voice trailed away, and she glanced about too. She was speaking of the many stewards who had up and left the Keep without a word. Long before Meredith had arrived and had had the good sense to employ Mr. Ashcroft.

They were also a closed-mouth group, having refused to expound on their thoughts regarding those missing stewards. That said much for the close-knit community of the Penhalwick village.

The Widow Elspeth wrinkled her brow, piercing Meredith with her shrewd and all-knowing gaze. “You do seem a little pale, dear.”

Up until tonight’s meeting, the small group of four had grown to an impressive number of eight—well, nine including herself—and usually met in a back room of The Copper Kettle. The two absent members were even more superstitious, but Meredith knew the battle she faced was uphill.

With a deep breath, she took her chair and straightened the broadsheets she held.

“I’m fine,” she murmured. “Now, what shall we read tonight?” Most of the members were illiterate, but Meredith had hopes by way of sparking their curiosity with some of the more outrageous antics only London gossip could provide.

She glanced through a couple of papers and stopped. “Ah, here is an interesting article.”

She shook out the paper and cleared her throat and read,

“Education: A Quest of Superiority ?

“In the quest of superiority in education, ’tis crucial we recognize the vital roles of educators.

Instructors are not merely conveyors of information; they are the future of this great country.

Mentors, guides, and inspirers of young minds.

I implore you to support the quality of education as it can only be as strong as the caliber from those of whom they learn.

’Tis with this conviction that the entire British populist advocate for greater training across the board… ”

Her voice trailed at the utter stillness filling her ears. She looked up and found six pairs of eyes on her. Er, five. Megan Penrose was only fourteen, and she was watching her mother’s reaction.

“Is something wrong?” Meredith asked.

“Someone really wrote that?” Elowen Coldwater, a lovely young woman nearing the age of twenty, was just the young mind Meredith and her friends were trying to reach.

One always eager to learn. It was the age group in which she, Geneva, Abra, and Hannah had fallen into having completed their education at Miss Greensley’s School.

When the four of them had had the epiphany of women’s importance and contribution to the world order.

Things were blatantly unfair, and that was when they’d come up with their new secret club: The Clandestine Sapphire Society. Oh, how they’d laughed themselves sick.

Then Geneva came up with the notion of a pamphlet on Promoting Social Justice and Equality .

But the article had been returned to Geneva’s flat in Berwick Street with Reject scribbled across the page.

Two weeks later, she’d been contacted by The Chartist Movement , a group that worked ideas such as allowing all men over twenty-one the privilege to vote regardless of property or ownership of wealth.

The measure failed but Meredith and her friends remained hopeful despite the odds.

The wealthy and nobles were powerful beyond the bounds of fairness.

Bright interest lit Elowen’s eyes. The caveat, however, lay in the fact that her parents had been in the area for generations.

Her father, a fisherman for many years, found there was more blunt to be made working in the mines.

Her mother, a mild, never-stir-the-waves woman accepting of her lot in life, also worked in the mines.

Theirs was a calm, resilient family accustomed to hardship and… loss.

“And the newspaper published it?”

Meredith grinned and handed Elowen the broadsheet.

Elowen found the article and put her nose to the paper. Her lips moved as she reread the bit. She glanced up, eyes sparkling. “It’s signed by—” She looked down. “The Cland… clande…” Frustration marred her pretty face.

“The Clandestine Sapphire Society.” Agnes Tremayne was the daughter of Marigold Tremayne. Meredith had hired her as her lady’s maid… er, in training. She beamed with pride. Meredith had been teaching her to read over the last couple of years and, to Meredith’s delight, she’d made great gains.

“Clint… sting… Sapphire?”

Meredith nodded encouragingly. “Society.” She couldn’t very well announce to the group she was a proud, prominent, and charter member of the CSS. “I, um, suspect it’s a consortium of bluestockings who wish to keep their identities secret.”

“Oooh, look at this.” Excitement colored Elowen’s tone anew. “It says here that the Earl of Pender was murdered!”

Another, more deafening silence crashed over Meredith.

“My goodness,” the Widow Elspeth said with a small smile. I do believe that elevates our hostess from viscountess to countess.”

“Oh, cor,” Agnes breathed, eyes dancing, learning she was lady’s maid to a countess now.

Groaning, Meredith closed her eyes, then snapped them open. “Yes, it’s true. I only just learned of the situation myself before you all arrived.”

Miss Clara Lovelace tsked. “No one bothered to tell you?” The spinster owned the local apothecary and had certain ideals of right and wrong. But didn’t everyone?

“I’m sure there is a very good reason why my, er, husband has not yet let me know. It all happened so suddenly,” Meredith hedged. “Why, he’s probably on his way to Perlsea this very moment.”