Chapter 1
1901

“You have your references with you?”

The voice was sharp with none of the ingratiating sweetness that Mrs. Macey used to the employers who visited her Agency.

There was just a moment’s hesitation before the girl on the other side of the table replied,

“Yes, I have one here.”

She held it out across the desk, her fingers trembling a little on the thick, expensive white writing paper with a crest emblazoned above the address.

Mrs. Macey took it in her fat none-too-clean hand and read it slowly. Then she made a faint sound that might have been one of approval.

“Lady Judith seems to have thought a great deal of you, Miss Warner!”

The girl watching her flushed, the colour rising up her tiny pointed face.

“Y-yes,” she agreed, a slight stammer in her voice. “Lady Judith has been very kind.”

“Well, it seems quite satisfactory,” Mrs. Macey said. “The difficulty is that at the moment we have few, if any, jobs on our books of the type you are seeking.”

“Oh, but please, I was sure you would find me something.”

There was a hint of panic in the young voice.

“You are very anxious to be suited?” Mrs. Macey asked, the expression in her eyes one of suspicion.

“Yes, very anxious. I-I cannot remain where I am and, besides – I have to earn some money.”

Mrs. Macey put a wealth of meaning into what was almost a snort through her thick pug-like nose.

She rang a bell that stood on her desk. The door was opened by a thin middle-aged woman who sat in the outer office and made sure that those who required jobs were in the proper state of humility before they reached the all-powerful director of their fate.

“The register, Miss Cruickshank!” Mrs. Macey commanded.

Miss Cruickshank, in her turn humble, flurried and anxious to please, ran to obey her employer’s order.

“You look very young,” Mrs. Macey remarked critically, staring at the slim figure of the girl opposite her as if she had hardly noticed her before.

“I-I – I am older than I look,” was the apologetic answer.

“Well, Miss – Miss – ” Mrs. Macey looked down at her papers.

“W-Warner,” the applicant supplied. “Carina Warner.”

“Carina!” Mrs. Macey repeated the name distastefully. “A fanciful name for a Governess. Catherine is more usual.”

“I was christened Carina.”

There was a hint of pride in the voice now. The little chin went up. The big grey eyes, which had looked so desperate a moment before, had a touch of fire in them.

“Parents make odd choices!” Mrs. Macey said disapprovingly but as if she was not really interested in pursuing the matter.

Miss Cruickshank staggered in with the register, a large imposing-looking book with well-thumbed pages and a cracked cardboard cover.

“Now, let me see, Miss Cruickshank,” Mrs. Macey said. “Have we any posts for Governesses or nursery Governesses at the moment?”