The Duchess of Rosemary Lane: A NovelFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
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The Duchess of Rosemary Lane: A Novel
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
English fiction -- 19th century
Mrs. Lenoir raised her veil, and disclosed a face inexpressibly sad,
and which in years gone by had been surpassingly beautiful. Deathly
pale as she was--but this may have been produced by a recent
emotion--traces of rare beauty still remained, and signs of refinement
and delicacy were clearly depicted upon the face revealed to the two
men in the dingy office. Even Mr. Williams, who had worked at a desk
for forty years, and was not given to sentiment, was ready to admit
that this was an interesting experience.
"Without husband, children, friends or money," said the contractor,
betraying in his slightly altered tone some newly-born feeling of
deference for the applicant. "I will give you employment. Mr.
Williams, I will take the responsibility of this case upon myself.
Mrs. Lenoir can sign the book."
He watched the tremulous signing of the name, Louise Lenoir, and noted
the whiteness of the hand that wrote it, with undisguised curiosity,
and then Mrs. Lenoir, receiving her order for so many yards of
material, took her departure. From that day it became in some way an
understanding that whatever changes were made from time to time in the
number of workpeople on the establishment, Mrs. Lenoir's services were
always to be retained. For twelve years had she been employed by the
firm, and had been found faithful and attentive to her duties, the
performance of which provided her with the barest subsistence. The
contractor, during those years, never omitted to address a few words
to her if he happened to see her in Mr. Williams's dingy office. Once
she was sick, and unable to work, and this coming to his ears, he sent
her provisions and a small sum of money. What sympathetic chord in his
nature Mrs. Lenoir had touched was a mystery which he did not, perhaps
could not, reveal. It may have pleased him that she, a lady, as he was
satisfied in his mind she was, should be dependent upon him for
subsistence. He made use of her occasionally at his dinner-parties at
Lancaster Gate--for this once common man entertained the magnates of
the land--when some phase of social politics was being discussed,
referring to the circumstance that among his workpeople was a lady who
earned probably twelve shillings a week, and whose beauty and
education would in her earlier days have fitted her for a duke's
establishment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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