when she left.
“Now then.” Ben uncrossed his ankles and set his expensively shod feet on the wooden floor. “There’s quite a batch of mail already. I’ve pulled out what seem to be tradesmen’s bills, but I imagine the rest are from your constituents. Suppose we start with those.”
Ben was all business. Well, she could be, too. She set the cup down and dragged a chair to a corner of the desk. Brisk. She would be brisk and forthright. If he couldn’t follow, that was his loss.
“Every letter is opened, read, and placed in the appropriate stack. Lonely hearts in one pile, employment ads in another, for example. Replies to the numbered boxes are placed in the correct mail slot to be picked up or forwarded.”
“That seems simple enough.”
“One would think so. But sometimes one must read between the lines.” She picked up a smudged missive and opened the seal. A coin rolled out of the paper and Evie set it aside, ticking a checkmark at the top of the note with a pencil.
“ ‘Dear Mr. Ramsey, I do hope you can assist me again, although truthfully your previous assistance with my employment does not have much to recommend it. I am enclosing the cost for one week’s worth of advertising and the accompanying postbox. It is all I can afford since I was dismissed from my current position. I was lately the Basingstokes’ governess—not for very long, fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be. I am afraid I cannot get a reference, either, for Lord Basingstoke has not been not able to write since I slammed his hand in my bedroom door and in any event would not have been predisposed to sing my praises since I refused to become his mistress. I know winter is upon us, but I would very much like to be settled in a proper Christian home before Christmas. Thank you for your attention to this matter. I remain most sincerely, Elizabeth Amelia Sturgess’—”
“Good Lord! You’re not going to print that as is, are you? Basingstoke will have us charged with libel.”
“I’m not going to print it at all, nor am I going to take this poor child’s money. This is where the job gets tricky, Ben.” She laid a hand on the unopened mail. “I can hope that somewhere in these letters is Elizabeth’s next situation. If I printed every request, the paper would be five times its size, and I’d have to order newsprint by the forest.” Evangeline stood, went to a wooden cabinet, and pulled open a drawer. “I may have something that didn’t come in time to make the classified section last week. Let’s pull out both the matrimonial and governess files.”
“Matrimonial!”
“Yes, Ben,” she said patiently. “I met Elizabeth Amelia Sturgess the last time she sought a position—she came here to the office. She’s a sweet, gentle girl, loves children, and is very pretty. If it’s not Lord Basingstoke, it will be some other father or oldest son who has designs upon the new governess. Best to get her suitably married before her immortal soul is imperiled. Wait a moment! I may in fact already have the perfect candidate for her.” Of course—Lord Maxwell needed a wife immediately. And here was Lizzie, who might be just the balm that would ease him out of his shyness. The girl was wholesome and natural, very unlike the usual society miss that so terrified him. Evangeline smiled, imaging Lord Maxwell saying, “I d-dd-do.”
Ben stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.
“I told you I had an unusual advertising system.”
“You have no sensible system at all! This is madness. We could be at this forever .”
“I agree. And you thought all I did was spy on you. Pass me the ink and pen, Ben.” She wrote as she spoke, her elegant handwriting rapidly covering a sheet of paper. “I’m writing to Miss Sturgess to see if she’d like her request fulfilled in a slightly alternate manner. I’m afraid after you bought the paper I dismissed my usual errand and delivery boys, so I hope you won’t mind going
“Now then.” Ben uncrossed his ankles and set his expensively shod feet on the wooden floor. “There’s quite a batch of mail already. I’ve pulled out what seem to be tradesmen’s bills, but I imagine the rest are from your constituents. Suppose we start with those.”
Ben was all business. Well, she could be, too. She set the cup down and dragged a chair to a corner of the desk. Brisk. She would be brisk and forthright. If he couldn’t follow, that was his loss.
“Every letter is opened, read, and placed in the appropriate stack. Lonely hearts in one pile, employment ads in another, for example. Replies to the numbered boxes are placed in the correct mail slot to be picked up or forwarded.”
“That seems simple enough.”
“One would think so. But sometimes one must read between the lines.” She picked up a smudged missive and opened the seal. A coin rolled out of the paper and Evie set it aside, ticking a checkmark at the top of the note with a pencil.
“ ‘Dear Mr. Ramsey, I do hope you can assist me again, although truthfully your previous assistance with my employment does not have much to recommend it. I am enclosing the cost for one week’s worth of advertising and the accompanying postbox. It is all I can afford since I was dismissed from my current position. I was lately the Basingstokes’ governess—not for very long, fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be. I am afraid I cannot get a reference, either, for Lord Basingstoke has not been not able to write since I slammed his hand in my bedroom door and in any event would not have been predisposed to sing my praises since I refused to become his mistress. I know winter is upon us, but I would very much like to be settled in a proper Christian home before Christmas. Thank you for your attention to this matter. I remain most sincerely, Elizabeth Amelia Sturgess’—”
“Good Lord! You’re not going to print that as is, are you? Basingstoke will have us charged with libel.”
“I’m not going to print it at all, nor am I going to take this poor child’s money. This is where the job gets tricky, Ben.” She laid a hand on the unopened mail. “I can hope that somewhere in these letters is Elizabeth’s next situation. If I printed every request, the paper would be five times its size, and I’d have to order newsprint by the forest.” Evangeline stood, went to a wooden cabinet, and pulled open a drawer. “I may have something that didn’t come in time to make the classified section last week. Let’s pull out both the matrimonial and governess files.”
“Matrimonial!”
“Yes, Ben,” she said patiently. “I met Elizabeth Amelia Sturgess the last time she sought a position—she came here to the office. She’s a sweet, gentle girl, loves children, and is very pretty. If it’s not Lord Basingstoke, it will be some other father or oldest son who has designs upon the new governess. Best to get her suitably married before her immortal soul is imperiled. Wait a moment! I may in fact already have the perfect candidate for her.” Of course—Lord Maxwell needed a wife immediately. And here was Lizzie, who might be just the balm that would ease him out of his shyness. The girl was wholesome and natural, very unlike the usual society miss that so terrified him. Evangeline smiled, imaging Lord Maxwell saying, “I d-dd-do.”
Ben stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.
“I told you I had an unusual advertising system.”
“You have no sensible system at all! This is madness. We could be at this forever .”
“I agree. And you thought all I did was spy on you. Pass me the ink and pen, Ben.” She wrote as she spoke, her elegant handwriting rapidly covering a sheet of paper. “I’m writing to Miss Sturgess to see if she’d like her request fulfilled in a slightly alternate manner. I’m afraid after you bought the paper I dismissed my usual errand and delivery boys, so I hope you won’t mind going
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