Temperance Angel wrung her hands. It was not like her – this pacing up and down and fretting. But then, she had never waited on a visit from anyone of Lady Egerton’s status before. Temperance had been to the window so many times she was worried she would soon wear the pile on the new crimson Turkey rug. She stopped pacing and looked critically around the drawing room. Everything had to be just so. Not a single detail could be overlooked. Temperance knew what Lady Egerton was like. She found fault in the smallest of things. Temperance had overheard her on many occasions complaining that Frances Cooper served tepid cups of tea, that Cordelia Sprigg’s table linen was a disgrace and that Agnes Hawthorne had no control over her servants. Temperance had no wish to be added to that list of unfortunate women. She had worked hard for this day: donating large sums of Arthur’s money to Lady Egerton’s various philanthropic causes, attending each and every meeting of Bridgwater’s Ladies’ Committee (set up by Lady Egerton to help prevent unfortunate young women from taking to evil ways), suffering the stench of the workhouse on a number of rescue missions and visiting the low parts of town with various members of the Committee. On one of these visits Temperance was forced to pass by the end of the street where her father lived. She was horrified to see him in the distance, shuffling along the pavement. She feigned a dizzy spell and Cordelia Sprigg immediately escorted her home, thus preventing a hideous and embarrassing encounter. Although Temperance occasionally sent her father money (in a bid to keep him quiet rather than from any sense of guilt), she had not seen him since the day of her wedding to Arthur Angel, and wanted to keep it that way.
Temperance walked to the window yet again. Her hands were sticky and her upper lip damp. She flipped open her fan and flapped it furiously in front of her face and at the open neck of her bodice. She hoped the flowers that Jane had arranged in her hair had not wilted. Everything had to be perfect. She had threatened the servants with instant dismissal if they so much as put a foot wrong. And, of course, Alice was locked safely away at the other side of the house. Temperance sent out a silent prayer. Today would be her biggest success yet. Lady Egerton would be impressed by all that she saw. There would not be a single thing to complain about. And Temperance would finally be accepted into the upper echelons of society.
As the carriage pulled up outside, Temperance hastily arranged herself on the couch with a book of poetry open on her lap. She did not want to look too eager when Lady Egerton was shown into the room. There was a knock on the door. ‘Come,’ said Temperance as calmly as she could.
‘A message from Bridgwater Hall for you, Ma’am.’
Temperance was puzzled. She looked behind the maid, who was holding a tray with a letter on it. ‘Where is Lady Egerton?’ she hissed. ‘You haven’t left her standing in the hallway, have you?’
‘Oh no, Ma’am,’ replied the maid. ‘Just a servant from the Hall came, and asked for this to be passed to you.’ The maid held the tray out towards her mistress.
Temperance snatched the letter and ripped it open. Her hand flew to her throat and she gasped out loud.
‘Is everything all right, Ma’am?’ asked the maid.
‘No, it is not,’ breathed Temperance. ‘Fetch me a glass of water.’ As the maid hurried to do her bidding, Temperance looked at the letter again. It was the very worst of news. Lady Egerton was not coming. All that waiting, all that work, all that planning: all for nothing! Temperance screwed up the letter and threw it across the room. It would be a long while before another visit could be arranged. The stupid, stupid old bitch had fallen down the stairs and broken her ankle!