Saturday's Lady

Prologue

"If only" was a useless phrase for useless dreamers- or at least Emma thought so. She planned to work for her dreams, not stand there idling.

Of course, as she leaned against the tree, dreaming of green hills and a chocolate candy, she thought about just how nice dreaming was.

*****

It was a cold March day, and an even colder night as she clutched the letter to her chest. Emma hadn't dared to read it while Anne was still awake- she loved her sister, but Anne liked to know everyone's business, and this letter wasn't the type she wanted Anne to read.

Her heart quickened as she opened it by the light of the dying fire, feeling the stiff, fancy paper beneath her fingers as she read the neatly written words.

She decided, then and there, that she would take the job as a lady's companion and maid. Besides, who knew what else the job may entail?

Emma would take the Monday train. It was too exciting a prospect to give up.

*****

"Thin, yes, to be expected with a girl from your background. Average height, good... and you look taller than you are. A good nose, a slender face, those eyes! There are not many with such vibrant hair, either.. yes, yes, you will do me well."

The lady walked around Emma again, completing the seemingly never ending loops with a bounce on her toes. "You may return to your family every weekend, but the ticket comes from your paycheck- which, if you serve well, will be generous."

"Thank you, ma'am," replied Emma, wondering what on Earth her physical attributes had to do with anything. They'd never mattered to her.

"You don't know what it has to do with anything, do you?" The lady- Mrs. Augusta Remigrant, Emma had to remind herself- had piercingly blue eyes, so sharp and alert that they seemed to see your soul. Emma had a fleeting thought that Mrs. Remigrant could read her mind, and her pulse quickened, though she kept herself as composed as she could.

"Society looks down on us old ladies now. The balls and dances are unofficially for the youth only and we seem to be there simply to spoil their fun. I need another entrance into society. That, my dear, is why I was particularly thrilled when my son- in- law told me you were clever and hard- working." She tipped her chin towards Emma, who cocked her head. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I don't see why you needed me particularly, or what I'm doing here other than to have a way to feed my family."

Mrs. Remigrant laughed, a warm and full sound that made her seem a dozen times more motherly. "He was right. You are clever. How old are you now?"

"Almost fourteen," replied Emma, still bewildered.

"Yes, yes- that's right. If you do well, in two years I'll introduce you to society. You'll attend all of the parties and you'll be my lifeline to the world. And in exchange- you'll be a part of high society and you'll likely marry very, very well. Is that acceptable?"

"How?"

"How what?" It seemed that Mrs. Remigrant could not fathom why Emma hadn't simply accepted the offer.

"How will you get me into high society? I'm a poor girl, ma'am, and Irish besides."

"A story." With a dismissive wave of her hand, the lady swept her bustled skirt across the tiled floor. "I won't come up with it now. Make up a simple, fascinating story and nobody will doubt you, not if it's realistic enough. They're all very gullible."

When Emma, didn't answer, Mrs. Remigrant clapped her hands. "If you'll go through the door on the left of the dining hall-" she pointed towards what Emma supposed was the dining hall- "there's a maid called Hannah who will show you around. Do your best, Emma- this may be the only chance you get to break the cycle of your poverty."

Emma hadn't thought for a second that entrance into Denver's high society would come with the job, but she wasn't going to pass it up. The thought of marrying well and starting anew, away from the past she'd tried to forget... it called for her, and she yearned for it. With a little smile, and a curtsy to her new employer, Emma set off to find Hannah, and begin on her path to a new start.