But how could she turn her back on Sarah when she had no one else? Besides, she was already defying the Wilherns by agreeing to spy on her uncle.
Julia glanced over at her desk and saw the letter she had been writing to Sarah. Quickly, she pulled her blotter paper over it so that Phoebe wouldn’t see. Would Phoebe betray her to Mrs. Wilhern? Probably not, but she didn’t want to put her cousin in a position where she might be tempted to lie to her own mother.
“Julia?”
“Yes, Phoebe. This is a lesson for us both. We cannot be too careful. We must . . .” Julia recognized that she was on the verge of either saying things she didn’t mean or saying what she really thought—the former would be hypocritical and the latter would be unwise. Phoebe looked aghast. “Julia, neither you nor I would ever do something like that! But Sarah . . . Sarah always did wish she were not a governess. You are not so poor as Sarah, and we are both sure to get eligible proposals, maybe this very Season. I shall marry Mr. Langdon, and you shall marry . . . I don’t know who, but someone worthy, I am certain. Perhaps Mr. Edgerton.” Phoebe looked at Julia out of the corner of her eye, rather slyly.
Had her father influenced Phoebe to try to persuade Julia to marry Mr. Edgerton? Julia stared at Phoebe. “You know I have no wish to marry Mr. Edgerton. And I will have but two hundred thirty pounds if I marry, and there is certainly no guarantee anyone will—”
Julia stopped herself and turned away, taking a deep breath and attempting to force down the anger that was creeping into her voice. “Perhaps everything will work out the way we both hope.” She forced a small smile.
“I was just speaking to Father. You must know that Mr. Langdon is coming to dinner on Thursday.” Phoebe became more animated as she spoke, her eyes growing rounder with each word. “Father shall ask him to come to Wilhern Manor when we go back to the country when the Season is over.”
Julia suddenly remembered the other important matter she needed to turn her attention to. “Phoebe, where is your father now?”
“Father? I believe he was about to leave to go to his club.” Her smile stretched across her face again. “I must go speak with Molly about how to arrange my hair for Thursday.” She took a few steps toward the door and then turned and smiled at Julia. “Don’t worry. Once Nicholas and I are married, one of his friends will do for you, Julia, I am sure of it!” Then Phoebe rushed out of the room.
Julia shook her head and turned her mind back to her more immediate concerns. She would wait a few more minutes until she was sure her uncle had left to go to his club.
Her mind went back to Sarah and her dilemma. Julia sat back down at her desk and stared at her letter. She must speak with Mr. Wilson at the Children’s Aid Mission. Julia might have spoken to Nicholas Langdon about Sarah’s situation, but it seemed an awkward subject to broach with him. Mr. Wilson, however, must be accustomed to seeing such problems, and therefore he was her best hope of finding a safe place for Sarah. She could write him a letter, but when he replied to her, what would her aunt think of Julia receiving a letter from a strange man? Mr. or Mrs. Wilhern might even open it and read it.
No, she must speak with him in person. Tomorrow she would take the risk.
Julia went into the hall and listened for her uncle’s voice or footsteps. Not hearing either, she walked downstairs to the small room where her uncle kept his riding crop, walking stick, and the hat he wore when he rode his horse. All three were missing.
Julia went back up the stairs, hoping not to encounter anyone who might ask her what she was doing there.
She hurried back toward her uncle’s study. Voices came from behind her, two of the servants talking, so Julia kept walking until she reached a sitting room. She went inside and then waited for the servants to pass.
Her heart was hammering in her throat as she stepped back out into the corridor and walked as soundlessly as possible to the door of her uncle’s study. She tried the doorknob. It was locked.
What could she do now? Would the key that fit her own room also fit her uncle’s study? Probably not. If he would take the time to lock his door, and if there were incriminating documents in his study, then he would take care that the lock and key were unique from others in the house.
Where did he keep the key?
His valet, Rogers, would probably have it on his person. But since Mr. Wilhern was away, might the valet leave his key ring in his room while taking his leisure elsewhere?
Julia hurried up the stairs to the top floor. She vaguely remembered someone saying that the male servants’ rooms were at the west end, while the female servants slept at the east end. What would she say if someone saw her here? What excuse could she possibly give? She would say she was searching for Betsy, the upstairs maid, because she had misplaced something and thought Betsy might know where it was.