Lady Pamela and the Gambler (The Merry Misfits of Bath 3)

The door to Lizbeth’s room opened just as Pamela reached her door. “There you are. I was looking for you before.” Lizbeth smiled brightly as she approached Pamela.

“I was off to m-m-eet my friends for t-t-tea. I believe you would like these friends of m-mine. You should come with me one d-d-day and meet them.”

“I would like that. The women I worked with in the hat factory are so busy with their work and families that I find myself alone more than I care to be.”

Lizbeth followed Pamela into her room and sat on one of the two chairs in front of the small fireplace across from Pamela’s bed. “I hope you don’t mind if I visit for a while?”

Pamela took the other chair. “N-n-not at all. I am always up f-f-for a chat. We have a bit of time before dinner.”

“Yes. I only have about ten minutes and then I’m off to help in the kitchen.”

“How s-s-successful has your j-j-job search been?”

Lizbeth sighed. “Not too well, I’m afraid. Of course, everyone wants references and since I was dismissed from my last job, I have none. I’m just grateful that Mrs. O’Leary has allowed me to use the room for free and help out around here in payment.”

“Is there n-n-nothing you can do about your unfair d-d-dismissal?” Lizbeth had told Pamela how a pin that was to be used for a specially

ordered hat had been found in her reticule when she left the factory for the evening. Each night their belongings were searched when they left the building and she had been stunned to find the pin in there when she handed over her reticule to the man at the door.

Lizbeth shook her head. “I’m afraid not. They found the pin in my reticule. I told them I had no idea how it got in there, but the evidence was right there in front of my face. The only thing I can think of is someone was trying to steal the pin and put it in my reticule by mistake.”

Life could be difficult for a young woman on her own. Lizbeth had told her how both her parents were deceased from influenza which also took her two brothers. She was thankful the disease had passed her by, but it left her completely alone.

She’d received quite a bit of art education, but with her family dead, and having to support herself, her artwork had become a hobby rather than a career.

Lizbeth stood and shook out her skirts. “Well, I must be off. I would love to meet your friends. Just let me know when you will be gathering again.”

“We meet every day for tea at The Pump Room. Tomorrow?”

Lizbeth flushed. “As much as I want to, I’m afraid with no coin to my name I won’t be able to join you.” She headed toward the door. “I will see you at dinner.”

Pamela was awakened by a strange noise. The room was dark, but she felt the presence of someone in her room. There was no noise, but the air was different, and she swore she could hear someone breathing.

She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but from how she felt, she’d been in a deep slumber. Her heart thumped and she slowly sat up. She reached for the oil lamp next to her bed, but her hand shook too much and she couldn’t get a grip on the flint to light it.

“Wrong room, you idiots!” A very loud whisper came from outside her room.

The door to her room opened and then quickly closed.

She sat, stunned. What the devil was that about?

After a few moments, she shook her head as if to clear it. Should she put on her dressing gown and check the corridor? That was probably not a good idea because whoever had been in her room could still be out there. She tried to quell her breathing and listened for any more sounds.

Nothing.

She lit the oil lamp and climbed from the bed and made her way to the door. Shadows danced around the room, but nothing unusual. She turned the lock and took a deep breath. Then it occurred to her that, as usual, she had locked the door before she’d gone to bed. How had it gotten open?

Once her heart slowed down and her breathing returned to normal, she looked around the room and picked up the fire poker. Carefully she crossed the room again and leaned her ear against the door.

Silence.

Had she imagined the whole thing? Was it merely a bad dream? If strangers were in the house, why was there no uproar? Should she seek out Mrs. O’Leary?

She took a deep breath and slowly released the lock, opened the door and peeked out. Everything was as peaceful as it should be. No one wandered the corridor and the doors to all the rooms were closed, including Mrs. O’Leary’s.

Pamela crossed the room, and with shaky hands picked up the lamp by her bed. Holding it high, she made a thorough search of her room, including the wardrobe and under the bed.

No one there.