That portion of my time which was not occupied either in giving or receiving lessons I spent chiefly in attending to the necessities of my wardrobe, loafing about in the parks and streets, and doing whatever sight-seeing was to be had gratuitously. I did not indulge in any amusement costing money, except theatres, to which I allowed myself a few visits as a treat and reward for my self-denial in other respects—theatrical performances being a form of entertainment to which I have always been particularly partial.
Thus three or four weeks passed quickly away, and by the end of that time I had mastered the art of hairdressing sufficiently to enable me to undertake the duties of a lady's-maid; for I was far more industrious in the capacity of pupil than in that of teacher, and laboured a great deal more zealously to profit by M. Candot's instructions than I did to make Fanny Green profit by mine. It is wonderful how much easier it is to take trouble when one wishes to secure value for money spent, than it is when the object of one's exertions is merely to give an equivalent for money received!
Having qualified myself for the calling I meant to adopt, the next thing was to take steps to hear of a situation; and to that end I put an advertisement in the Times, Morning Post, and Guardian, offering C. J.'s services to any lady going abroad who required a thoroughly efficient maid, capable of acting as courier if necessary. This notice bore fruit speedily in the shape of a note addressed to C. J., which I found awaiting me on my return from Mrs. Green's one afternoon, and which ran as follows:—
"2000 EATON SQUARE, Thursday.
"Lady Mervyn writes in answer to C. J.'s advertisement, as she wishes to meet with a good travelling-maid. Lady Mervyn will be glad if C. J. will call at her house to-morrow evening at 5.30 punctually."
How strange that my notice should happen to have been seen and answered by Lady Mervyn—a person between whom and myself there was a remote connection, and whom I had met years ago when I was a child! Would it be safe for me to enter her service? or should I be running too great a risk of recognition? No, I did not think I need be afraid. Kitty was the only one of the family who was at all likely to remember me, as I had been much more in her company than in theirs on the occasion of our previous meeting at Lugano. And that she had no recollection of me I had already proved at Sparkton Station; which forgetfulness on her part, by the by, I did not now feel the least bit inclined to resent, having quite got over the little soreness and irritation which it had caused me at the moment.
Yes; I believed I should be as safe from discovery at Lady Mervyn's as anywhere else, and determined that I would take the situation. I was pleased with the idea of being under the same roof as Kitty Mervyn, on account of the opportunities which I should then have of observing this girl, whose character had interested me and excited my curiosity. And then, too, I might reasonably look forward to discovering some explanation of her having chosen to keep Captain Edward Norroy's photograph hidden away in her purse as she had done. A carte-de-visite is ordinarily stuck into an album, and I wanted to know why she should have treated this particular carte differently to that of any other acquaintance.
These anticipations were checked by the sudden recollection that I was counting my chickens before they were hatched; that I had not yet got the place I was looking forward to; and that perhaps Lady Mervyn might not think fit to engage me after all. When did she say I was to go there? Looking again at the note I saw that it was dated the day before. Yesterday was Thursday, and to-day Friday, so I must wait upon her ladyship this very same afternoon, and had no time to lose in providing myself with that necessary article—a character.
About two months before there had died a certain Lady Brown, who was rather a well-known person on account of her having lived much abroad and published a large number of books containing her experiences of the Riviera, the Dolomites, the Alps, the Rhine, and other foreign places. Her husband, Sir Bartholomew Brown, had gone to the East since her death, and was supposed to be wandering about somewhere in Persia at the present moment. As, therefore, no reference was possible to either the deceased Lady Brown or her husband, and as they had been childless, it occurred to me that if I asserted myself to have been her maid up to the time of her death, there was no one to disprove the statement. Accordingly, I indited a character purporting to be written by Sir Bartholomew, wherein it was set forth that Caroline Jill had been for two years in his late wife's service; had only left on account of that lady's death; had given entire satisfaction during the whole time of her service; was a first-rate traveller; and was a trustworthy, sober, steady, exemplary, and in-all-ways-to-be-recommended-maid.
I wasted several sheets of paper over this composition before I could please myself; and when I had succeeded in getting it to my mind I copied it out in a feigned hand—bold, rather scrawling, legible, and masculine-looking. Of course there was a danger of the forgery being detected, if Lady Mervyn should happen to be acquainted with Sir Bartholomew's handwriting. But then it was quite likely that she was not; and I would try to find out if she knew him before I produced the character; and, even if the worst came to the worst, the chances were that she would not take the trouble to prosecute me, and I should have just as good a prospect as before of obtaining a situation with some one else.