Chapter One
England, 1813
Miss Emilia Hembry was utterly unremarkable. She had to work harder than anyone else just to survive. It had been this way since her mother died three years ago, leaving her entirely on her own.
Through sheer determination, she had managed to secure employment at Mrs. Allston’s Seminary for Young Women. She was an accomplished needlewoman, just as her mother was, and she used these skills to teach her students.
Emilia held up the embroidered and beaded reticule that she had just completed for her class’s inspection. “Are there any questions?”
A blonde-haired girl in the front of the room raised her hand.
“Yes, Susan,” Emilia acknowledged.
Susan gripped her reticule tightly and a slight pout came to her lips. “Mine doesn’t look like yours,” she said.
Emilia rose from her chair and came to inspect the poorly stitched reticule. “That is because you just need more practice. I will be happy to help you with that.”
“Practice won’t help her,” Anne admonished from the back. “For me, it won’t matter. I am going to marry a wealthy lord and have a lady’s maid that will tend to my every whim, including making me reticules.”
Emilia worked to keep the displeasure off her face. Anne was far too opinionated for her young age and she was cruel to the other students. No doubt her parents had spoiled her to no end, making her entirely unbearable.
“Any genteel young lady is proficient in all types of needlework,” Emilia started, “and it is important for you to possess this skill.”
Anne didn’t look convinced. “I just think it is beneath us to learn such a thing. I would rather be riding my horse than sitting in the drawing room.”
Some of the other students cast disapproving looks Anne’s way, but no one spoke up. Not that Emilia expected any of them to. No one wanted to cross Anne. It never ended well.
Emilia approached Anne’s desk and asked, “Did you at least attempt the assignment?”
“I did,” Anne replied as she retrieved the reticule from her lap. “I never said I couldn’t make one. I just think it is stupid.”
“Everyone has a right to their own opinion,” Emilia said as she studied the reticule. To her surprise, it was far better than what she had expected. The embroidery could use some more work, but it was a functional reticule.
Anne offered her a smug smile. “I daresay that mine is better than yours.”
Emilia had just about enough of Anne’s pretentious attitude, yet she refrained from voicing her thoughts. She knew she had to hold her tongue and remember her role. It was her job toinstruct Anne in needlework, not etiquette. The headmistress had explicitly warned that she wouldn’t tolerate criticism of her students. Her overprivileged, opinionated students.
“Your embroidery is sloppy, but you did complete the assignment,” Emilia said, placing the reticule down onto the table.
A knock sounded at the door.
Emilia turned her head and saw her one true friend standing in the doorway. She could always count on Lily to lift her spirits. They had both arrived the same day to start work, and they had quickly formed a close connection due to their shared hardships.
“Mrs. Allston wishes to see you,” Lily informed her.
“Now?” Emilia asked with dread in her voice. Mrs. Allston had never asked to see her during one of her lessons before. Why would she do so now?
Lily nodded. “She said it was most urgent and for me to take over your class.”
Emilia glanced at the wall clock. “We were about to start work on their slippers.”
Stepping further into the room, Lily said, “I will teach them until you return, but you don’t want to keep Mrs. Allston waiting.”
Lily gave Emilia a meaningful look, a silent communication that conveyed their mutual understanding. It was the kind of look that hinted at Mrs. Allston’s impatience, as if she didn’t have time to wait for anyone.
“Very well,” Emilia agreed. “I shall return as quickly as I am able to.”
As Emilia walked past Lily, her friend whispered, “I wish you luck.”