Table Of ContentThe Anonymous Amanuensis
A Regency Romance
by Judith B. Glad
Published by Awe-Struck E-Books
Copyright © 2005
ISBN: 1-58749-471-X
Electronic rights reserved by Awe-Struck E-Books, all other rights reserved by
author. The reproduction or other use of any part of this publication without the
prior written consent of the rights holder is an infringement of the copyright law.
Cover Art/Design by Judith B. Glad
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. People and locations, even those with real names, have
been fictionalized for the purposes of this story.
DEDICATION
For Kat and Star--
Simply the best daughters anyone could wish for.
And for Neil, always.
PROLOGUE
Elmwood, Yorkshire. October
"Damn it, Eve, but you are stubborn!"
Evelyn Dixon smiled into her uncle's angry face. "I am not being stubborn, Chas,
merely practical. After all, I said I am willing to look for a position as an
instructor of languages in some proper school for young ladies. I have not
promised to find one."
"But you'll not try very hard, if I know you." The tall, weathered gentleman
threw himself into a chair and glared at her. "You've this wild idea of being a
secretary and you'll spend all your energies seeking a position with some rummy
Cit, rather than in a school where you will at least be among people of your own
sort."
"Well, and I tell you that I will not! Any Cit with whom I accept a position will
be a model of sobriety. Rummy, indeed!"
"You know what I meant, Eve. I'd have thought your experience with Alfred,
and my father before him, would have shown you how grim a life you would
have as a secretary."
"Oh, believe me, it has. But Grandfather and Uncle Alfred are, I sincerely hope,
not typical employers. If they were, there would be no secretaries, for who
would accept employment with such curmudgeons?"
She smiled wryly. "Chas, I have not enjoyed working for either of them, but it
has shown me that I have a bent for performing secretarial duties, where I know
I do not for teaching. I have not yet succeeded in teaching Lisabet and young
Wilfred a single fact, try as I might," she said, with a sigh of regret.
"Ha! How anyone could teach those two wretched brats anything is beyond me.
Charlotte has them so spoiled that they pay no mind to anything that does not
give them pleasure." He rose and began pacing about the office where Eve sat
behind a desk littered with papers and account books. The desk and chair
covered most of the floor, so his pacing was necessarily confined to a small
space.
space.
"Be that as it may," he said, leaning across the desk after a few moments, "you
must know that acting as a secretary to some merchant is not the sort of life for a
gently bred young woman."
"But I am not a 'gently bred young woman.' As my uncle is so fond of reminding
me, my mother was a peasant. And as Charlotte keeps me aware of, I am only
here on sufferance, for my inheritance is barely enough to keep clothes on my
back and food in my mouth." She grimaced. "Oh, Chas, can you not see I must
be away from here? I cannot stand much more of Alfred's reminders of my
father's improvidence, nor of Charlotte's whining that I do not earn my keep."
"Yes, yes. You are miserable here, I can see. But that is no excuse for haring off
to London to seek employment." Chas sat on the corner of her desk and took her
chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Come, my dear, do not ask me to
do this."
"I must. With a letter from you, telling how well I performed my duties, I have a
much better chance of finding the sort of employment for which I am suited.
Please, Chas. Write the letter."
"Damn your stubbornness! Very well, I will, but I hope we will not both come to
regret it. Give me paper."
Eve relinquished her place at the desk. As Chas bent over the paper, thinking,
brushing the tip of his nose with the quill, she watched him. How much better
her uncle looked than he had those five months ago when he was carried into
Elmwood, covered with bandages, white of face, and looking near death. And
now he was about to return to duty.
She prayed that he would come through the war unscathed. If he were to be
killed, there would be no one left in the world who loved her. But Chas could be
of no more help to her than her father, dead these five years. The youngest of
four sons, he had no fortune of his own and certainly could not support a nearly
destitute female.
Eve enjoyed her secretarial duties. Some of the Hadley wealth came from
investments in the West Indies, and she enjoyed the correspondence with Sir
Alfred's agents there. What she minded was the lack of gratitude, Alfred's
assumption that she should be grateful that he provided her with a way to earn
assumption that she should be grateful that he provided her with a way to earn
her keep.
Her keep, indeed! Her only new gowns in the past five years had been purchased
out of her own meager inheritance. Charlotte's frequent and snide comments
about her healthy appetite showed that she was begrudged even the food she ate.
"There, for what it's worth," Chas said, pushing a sheet of paper across the desk
to her. She picked it up and read the letter her uncle had written.
To Whom It May Concern:
May I introduce my niece, Evelyn Dixon, as an honest and competent secretary.
For the past five years, Miss Dixon has acted as amanuensis to Sir Wilfred
Hadley, my late father. Her duties included correspondence with Sir Wilfred's
agents in the West Indies and in Scotland, maintenance of the estate accounts,
and management of the household budget. She writes a legible hand, is
knowledgeable about estate management, and is capable of translating
correspondence into Italian, French, German, and Dutch. I ask that you give her
application for a position careful consideration.
Your servant,
Major Charles Hadley
Eve laid the letter back on the desk, uncertain what to say.
"What's the matter, Eve? Don't you like it?"
"Yes and no, Chas. It is an excellent letter, but I am not sure you ought to claim
me as your niece. You are bound to be thought prejudiced on my behalf. Perhaps
you might rewrite it, make it more impersonal?"
Chas took the letter back and reread it. "I suppose you are in the right of it, Eve,
though it galls me not to claim you as my relation." He again bent over the desk,
writing. Soon he pushed a second sheet of paper across to her. This time Eve
smiled as she finished reading it. Impersonal it was. There was no mention of her
relationship to him or of her sex, just two short sentences describing her duties
and her experience, a third listing her unusual linguistic skills.
"Very good, Chas. This should do the trick." She folded the letter and placed it
in a portfolio. "Shall we ride before dinner, as usual?"
in a portfolio. "Shall we ride before dinner, as usual?"
"Might as well. It'll be our last chance until I return from the Peninsula. I want to
get an early start for London tomorrow so I can see some friends before I head
overseas."
CHAPTER ONE
London. December
"My dear young lady, no one would hire a female as a secretary. Why the fairer
sex is too emotional, too flighty for such a position of responsibility. And no
mere woman possesses the intelligence for such demanding work. Is there
nothing else you might be suited for?"
"I could teach languages, sir, but I would prefer not to have to do so," she
replied, hoping she didn't sound as desperate as she felt. This was the third
registry office she had visited. There were only two more on her list.
"And why not?"
"I have little patience with children, particularly those who have no interest in
learning. On the other hand, I have five years' experience as a secretary to Sir
Wilfred Hadley and he seemed pleased with my work. If you will only read this
reference, you will see."
The man grudgingly took Chas' letter and read it. Returning it to Eve, he said,
"That's all very well, Miss Dixon, but it does not change the fact that no
gentleman, no, nor any merchant, would trust a woman with his business affairs.
You would be much better off as a teacher. Or a governess or companion."
"Then you will not help me find employment, sir?"
"Not as a secretary. And I have no requests for teachers at present. You would
do much better to consider going as a governess. The school terms are barely
half over, and few openings for teachers are likely just now." He frowned at
Eve's moue of distaste. "Come back in two or three months."
Eve thanked him and left, disappointed but not entirely without hope. She was
still determined to be a secretary. She decided to write letters of inquiry to all the
merchants and traders whose directions she could discover.
Two months later, Eve's funds and her patience were both much reduced.
Laughter, scorn, or improper advances had been the responses at each of the
interviews she had had with City merchants and traders. No requests for
language teachers had been received by any of the seven registry offices to
which she had applied.
She had made some friends, but had little in common with most of the young
women at the ladies' boarding house where she had a small room under the
eaves. Only her friendship with Thomas Patterson was really close, and Eve was
not sure if it was truly proper to be friends with a young man. But without Tom,
her existence in London would be so lonely that she would not be able to stand
it.
Eve met Tom Patterson at Marten's registry office during the second week of her
stay in London. The cheerful young man was delivering a request for a
chambermaid to the agency where Eve had just concluded another fruitless
interview. The two struck up a conversation as they walked down the stairs
together and discovered a mutual liking.
Tom, a younger son with noble connections, had dreams of someday standing
for Parliament. In the meantime, he was employed by Lord Arduin, a prominent
member of His Majesty's government. And he was as lonely in London as Eve.
They fell into the habit of taking supper together on his free evenings, or
attending plays or the opera when Lord Arduin gave him tickets.
Tom had a carefree spirit and frequently made absurd suggestions for their
activities. Once he tried to convince her that they should take a ride on a
steamship. Another time he convinced her to don borrowed trousers and coat for
a tour of an iron mongery. Tom also had a serious side and the two of them often
indulged in long philosophical discussions as they wandered the streets of the
West End together.
Eve finally admitted to herself that she would have to take a poorly paid position
in a shop or crawl back to Elmwood and grovel before Alfred and Charlotte. She
very much feared the alternative might be starvation, for she refused to sell the
few remaining pieces of her mother's jewelry. That same day, Tom imparted
some information that gave her one last bit of hope.
"It's really too bad, Eve, that you are female, for I know he would never engage
your services. Otherwise you are completely qualified for the position."
"I beg your pardon, Tom," Eve said. "I was woolgathering. What did you say?
What position?"
"I was telling you about a secretarial position for which you are perfectly suited.
I would be tempted to apply myself if I had the peculiar combination of skills
that it requires. Mr. Quinton strikes me as being a most liberal employer." Tom
