Page 22 of The Laudanum Ladies' Society

‘She met my uncle somewhere. She’s the youngest daughter of a baron, though I believe the line died with him. I think she hopes to marry my uncle for his money. Or he hopes to marry her for hers.’ Miss Rosewood sounded quite unconcerned about either possibility.

‘Wouldn’t that affect your position here?’ Gwen asked. ‘Pardon my nosiness. It’s really none of my business.’

Miss Rosewood giggled. ‘I don’t mind nosiness. I call it frankness. I’ve never been certain of my position here. When my parents died, I was taken in by Uncle Conrad. He’s my father’s only surviving brother. I was sent to board at an adequate school for an acceptable number of years.’

She gave a brittle smile, her humour dissolving. ‘Though, strictly speaking, that was my aunt’s doing. My uncle doesn’treally have much time for educated women, I’m afraid. Or any women.’

‘Yes, I know his views well,’ Gwen said tactfully. ‘My husband is in accord with them. I consider myself fortunate that neither of them objects to me keeping some of the accounts.’

‘Oh, Uncle Conrad objects,’ Miss Rosewood said. ‘I’ve heard him grumbling. But I think he knows that your husband is a better druggist than he is an accountant, so he puts up with it. If he didn’t, he would have to expend more energy verifying the books himself.’

Gwen flashed her a grin, liking the younger woman more and more with each passing moment. ‘How much we all put up with rather than inconvenience ourselves.’

Miss Rosewood’s eyes had been glinting merrily, but now the joy dropped out of them.

‘Oh, my dear, did I say something indelicate?’ Gwen asked.

‘No. But I am mindful of how I am not brave enough to inconvenience myself.’

She turned to face Gwen. ‘My father left me three hundred and twelve pounds, which my uncle invests on my behalf. The interest pays for the expenses he incurs from me living with him. I am given an allowance, but I cannot touch the capital. I have often wondered whether I should consult a solicitor to see if I could challenge that.’

‘You might,’ Gwen replied.

It was likely the effects of the tincture working, because Miss Rosewood looked as if she was about to burst into tears. She squeezed her hands together, with a determined look fixed on her face.

‘I’m thirty now, not a child. Surely any court of law would deem me capable of managing my own affairs. Plenty of women do. If I could, I would use the money to furnish a room in a lodging house for women and live there instead of here.’

‘You would rather live in one room than this entire house?’ Gwen asked doubtfully. She gazed around at the furnishings; velvet drapes with ruched pelmets kept out the wind that whistled down the chimney. A deeply napped carpet in an oriental style stretched almost to the skirting boards.

Miss Rosewood waved her hand around. ‘If it was a room of my own and I was able to come and go as I please, I believe I would. I think I have been rather lazy. I could have done something with myself. Set myself up as a paid companion to an elderly woman, for example. Or share with a friend of my own age.’

She sighed deeply and looked wistful.

‘There’s something to be said for that,’ Gwen agreed, feeling unexpectedly sorry for the young woman. A beautiful home and a comfortable life clearly only brought surface contentment. A cage might be gilded but still feel like a cage.

‘I don’t suppose you need a companion,’ Miss Rosewood asked, her eyes lifting to Gwen’s. They crinkled around the edges, hinting at fine lines which were just beginning to form.

Gwen looked into them, and a warm flash of affection rose within her. ‘Unfortunately, not, though if I did you would be my first consideration.’

Miss Rosewood beamed. She slipped her hand into Gwen’s and squeezed it. ‘Thank you.’

The resonant chimes of four o’clock came from the grandfather clock in the hallway. Miss Rosewood yawned. Gwen reluctantly placed her plate back on the table and murmured the customary niceties about the time. She gathered up the china cup and divided the money.

‘It’s very frustrating,’ Miss Rosewood said gloomily as she stared at her handful of coins. ‘I don’t believe that we will be able to sustain this business with only a few customers.’

‘Will you reply to Miss Salisbury, accepting her invitation?’ Gwen asked.

‘Of course. We’ll have fun there, sell her a few doses of the tincture– by the by, we’ll have to think of a name for the company– and with any luck we might even become quite wealthy.’

Gwen walked home, her head down and collar turned up against the wind and rain. She could catch a bus, but if she did that, then she would eat into the money they’d made.

She distracted herself from the cold by wondering what Miss Rosewood would do with her share of the profits. Perhaps she would consult a solicitor and see about emancipating herself from Conrad’s care and manage to find a home of her own. Thinking back to how pleasant the afternoon spent in her company had been, Gwen was sorely tempted to join her.

Chapter Eight

Deprived of company, Jenny was restless, despite the effects of the tincture making her sleepy. She had noticed Mrs Walters hadn’t taken a dose and Jenny now thought she had been wise. She’d had express instructions not to disturb Uncle Conrad and there was someone she had been meaning to visit.

Her cheeks flamed unexpectedly as she thought of Miriam, and she issued a few rushed instructions regarding the evening meal before touching up her hair, adding an enamelled brooch in the shape of a daisy, and setting off. Uncle Conrad would have words to say if he knew she had been out, but that would be entirely due to propriety or how she should be conducting herself and less about her actual safety.