But all Sophie wanted was a bit of adventure. A taste of freedom. And if she could achieve that without bringing shame upon her family, she’d consider herself fortunate.

As the meeting drew to a close, Sophie stood by the door and bid each woman good night. One of the last to leave was a young, weary-looking woman with huge brown eyes in a too-pale face. Her dark hair was drawn into a no-nonsense knot at her nape, and her thin shoulders were wrapped in a faded yellow shawl.

“I don’t think we’ve met. My name is Sophie,” she said, warmly extending a hand.

“I’m Violet,” the young woman replied. As she grasped Sophie’s fingers, she swayed on her feet till Sophie swiftly steadied her by the elbow.

“Come, sit for a moment,” Sophie insisted, guiding her to the nearest chair. “Forgive me for saying so, but you don’t look well.”

“I’m fine,” Violet assured her. “Just a bit dizzy after sitting for so long, is all. You needn’t worry about me.”

“Nonsense.” Sophie plopped a scone on a plate and thrust it at Violet. “Something tells me you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

The young woman’s cheeks pinkened, and she glanced at the floor.

“I wish I had something more substantial to offer than a scone,” Sophie said, clucking her tongue. “But that and a cup of tea will have to do, for now.”

She brought Violet some tea and sat beside her as she nibbled on the pastry. Sophie longed to know more about the woman, who looked to be about eighteen—too young to have dark circles beneath her eyes and tired lines around her mouth. But Sophie didn’t want to pry. After all, most members were understandably skittish about sharing details of their personal lives. She did notice that the woman didn’t wear a wedding band, and her chapped hands revealed she was accustomed to hard work.

“I’m glad you were able to join us tonight,” Sophie said sincerely. “The size of the group can seem a little overwhelming at first, but I hope you felt at home.”

Violet nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. Everyone was so welcoming and friendly, even though I’m just a … well, I was a maid.”

“One of the things I adore about the Debutante Underground is that it brings everyone together.” Sophie strolled around the tailor’s shop as she spoke, stacking plates and cups on a tray. “Within these walls, it makes no difference whether you’re a grand dame, a lady’s maid, a shopkeeper, or a laundress. We all gather on Friday evenings for a singular purpose—to share our knowledge and experiences … and support each other.”

“That’s lovely.” Violet sounded wistful and hopeful at the same time.

Sophie smiled as she gingerly watered Reese’s potted plant, which, she had to admit, was looking marginally better. “It helps knowing that we’re not alone.”