worked for them long enough to understand that.”
She shrugged. “Perhaps I wouldn’t have done anything differently then, but it doesn’t change the fact that Caleb lied to me. He let me believe he was dead. I thought—well, you know what I thought. He obviously didn’t love me.”
“I think only he can answer that. Did you tell him about his son?”
“No! I have no reason to. I don’t know where James is, and I doubt I’ll ever see Caleb again. I told him he had to move out of the boarding house.”
Valérie laughed. “But of course you did! Will he listen?”
“He’s using another name now, and I doubt he wants to be associated with his former acquaintances. I think he’ll be gone before I move in tomorrow night.”
Valérie’s eyes widened. “Tomorrow night? So soon? What will I do without you?”
“Spread all of your clothing out and sing at the top of your lungs every morning?”
“Nonsense. I will miss your grumpy face in the mornings.”
“You can see it before the first class period, and I don’t hear you complaining about the extra space.”
“My dresses are rather crushed.”
Suddenly, Bridget threw her arms around Valérie. “I’ll miss you too.”
Valérie hugged her back. “I never thought I would hear you say such words. You were adamant you did not want a roommate.”
“After three years in debtor’s prison, you would want privacy too.”
“I hope I gave you that.”
“You did, and you gave me something more important.”
Valérie raised a brow.
“Friendship.”
THE NEXT MORNING, BRIDGET stood before a class of older girls, ages sixteen to eighteen. Most of them had been at the academy for several years and had mastered the skills taught—both conventional and unconventional. A few had become truly exceptional. As she surveyed them, Bridget had every confidence they would go out into the world and succeed. They could defend themselves and had all the skills ladies did and a few more besides.
“I don’t need to remind you that forgery is a hanging offense,” Bridget was saying. “You should not use the skill without weighing the consequences of being caught. Eleanor, would you use the skill to pay a debt?”
Eleanor, whose dark blond hair always seemed to escape her cap, considered. “I think it would depend on the amount, Mrs. Lavery. For a small debt, no. For a larger one, it might be worthwhile to avoid debtor’s prison.”
If these girls thought debtor’s prison was the worst that could happen to them, perhaps she had been hasty in her earlier judgment of their readiness.
“You think death is preferable to debtor’s prison?”
Eleanor looked down. “I’m not certain.”
Beth, one of Eleanor’s friends, raised her hand and spoke when Bridget nodded at her. “When would you counterfeit money, Mrs. Lavery? How did you gain the skills?”
She supposed it was time she told them. Many of them were leaving the academy soon, and the others were old enough to know. “My father taught me,” she said. A few of the girls, those from more sheltered homes, raised their brows. “He was caught by the government and was offered a choice between hanging or working for the Foreign Office. He chose the Foreign Office and was instrumental in devising the plan to counterfeit Continental currency, which undermined the economy and the war efforts of the newly formed United States of America.
“Early in the war against Napoleon, I was recruited by the Foreign Office to do much the same thing for France and its allies. So you see, there are reasons to counterfeit currency.”
Mary, one of the older girls, raised her hand. “Are there any reasons we might risk a charge of treason to counterfeit currency, Miss Lavery?”
“Good question, Mary. Yes. You might find yourself in a situation where your life is at risk and you must flee quickly, but you lack the funds to pay for transport. That might be a situation in which it would be worth risking the creation of counterfeit currency.”
“But not to stay out of debtor’s prison?” Eleanor asked.
Bridget shrugged. “If you are responsible for the debt, then it hardly seems fair to make others pay for your carelessness. And when you give a tradesman a counterfeit bill, he is the one who loses pay for honest work.”
That had certainly been her way of thinking when she and Robbie had found themselves in the position of being sent to debtor’s prison. Robbie had suggested she counterfeit the money necessary to free them from their debt, and Bridget had argued his plan was madness. Not only would the tradesmen easily