Beth and the Mistaken Identity

by Alicia Cameron

  ‘Oh Emmi, how kind you are. And what a beast I am.’ She rose suddenly as the princess called her name. ‘I must go. I will see you at dinner.’

  ‘Back to your fusty old book, I suppose,’ said Emmi, shaken, but determinedly smiling.

  Beth only smiled and left.

  She could not, of course, go to the library, lest she meet Wrexham. At dinner, with Emmi, she looked forward to seeing him, hopeful that with her help they could fall into their usual relations. It was much to hope for, but she treasured it. So, she went to her room, where she found Sophy unexpectedly sewing.

  ‘Beth! Thank goodness. Order some refreshment will you, I’m quite parched, and that tartar of a housekeeper was set on putting me to work if I remained in the kitchen. I was quite wonderfully deceptive... I called myself Sally Brown and tried to make friends with them all. I must say, some of the footmen are rougher in their speech than they are above stairs. But the cook was not kind at all, either. After only some tea, toast and a very old slice of cheese that I was so hungry I ate, she told me that was sufficient. When I told her I was still hungry, she boxed my ears.’ She looked at Beth wide-eyed. ‘Is this the sort of treatment you receive at Foster Hall?’

  Food was not on constant call for the servants, and they received what was left. No cook would let her staff eat at will. And talking back to this high individual was severely punished. Beth knew not to do so, but she said with a quiet satisfaction to Miss Sophy, ‘Yes.’

  ‘How dreadful. Well, anyway, I preserved my rôle and apologised, though I longed to strike her. And then I said I must tend to Miss Beth’s things and left. Do you ring, Beth. Order some bread and some ham perhaps, and cheese — definitely cheese.’ She laughed. ‘They will not serve Miss Sophia Ludgate such stuff as they gave me. And then the old hag of a housekeeper gave me linen to mend and I was so bored when you were gone that I began. But I do not think I set my stitches well.’ Beth looked and could not but agree. It was quite dreadful. ‘Never mind, Beth, you may take the stitches out and finish it, then she will be content with me.’ She thrust the work at Beth, who automatically sat down to do as she was bid.

  ‘Ring first, Beth! I do not know what horrors I shall be served at the servants’ table, so I needs must have something to sustain me. I cannot imagine why servants are not better fed.’

  You cannot imagine a great deal of things, thought Beth, ringing the bell. She looked at her young mistress, she was bright and lively, and sometimes kind, but utterly self-absorbed. ‘Let them eat cake,’ Queen Marie Antoinette had reportedly said, when told that the revolt stemmed from lack of bread for the populace. Not cruel, as some had believed. Just the same as Miss Sophy, utterly unaware of other people’s struggles, excepting in the vaguest way possible. Tomorrow, she, Beth, would be cast off. She still had the remains of the sovereign that Miss Sophy had given her, and the hope of part of her wages at the end of the quarter. With her coins, she could perhaps afford some mean room, so that she had an address to have her box and her wages sent on. When the box arrived, perhaps she could sell some of the gowns that Miss Sophy had been so kind as to give to her, for shillings instead of the pounds they cost. She could walk the streets looking for a position, in fear of violent attack from men, and if she could not get one, perhaps she could take in sewing for fourteen hours a day, as her mother’s friend did, only able to work when she could afford the tallow candles. She would become shabby without the means to wash so often, and hungry. Perhaps she might break down and allow a man to take advantage of her. If she were ever to do so, it might be better to make this decision now, while she still looked respectable, so that that man might just be a gentleman, able to keep her in comfort. That way, the fall would be slower, she knew. But the fall would come. All she wanted was to work, and keep her respectability. And Miss Sophy’s whim for Vauxhall Gardens had taken that from her. She knew she had agreed, but … Don’t excuse yourself, Beth, she thought. It is your fault too. But Miss Sophy now chattering about the shock she was continuing to give to Lady Ernestine, who deserved it — and Beth was glad at least, that her note would spare them more pain this evening. The earl, Lady Ernestine and the two dear Misses Fosdyke, would be beside themselves on the journey, worried about what could occur to Miss Sophy on her own, imagining disasters that Sophy did not conceive of. The girl’s petty revenge was but a game to her, and she did not realise fully what pain she caused.

  Dinner in the kitchen would be good, Beth knew. The old cheese had merely been to put the new girl in her place. As Aggie entered, looking astonished at Sophy, sitting while her mistress stood, Beth shoved her sewing back in her old mistress’s hand. ‘That is quite alright, Sally, continue.’ She turned to Aggie with a smile. ‘I’m afraid I made little of breakfast today, and find myself still hungry. Please find something from the kitchen for me. Some bread, some ham perhaps, and of course some cheese.’ Aggie looked a little surprised, but bobbed a curtsy, ‘Oh and some lemonade, if cook has some by.’

  ‘To be sure she does, miss.’

  ‘Good then.’ Aggie turned to leave and Beth opened her mouth and did a saintly thing. ‘Oh and have Dobson send up a truckle bed, I wish my maid to sleep in my chamber this evening.’ It might have given her the lowest sort of pleasure to let Miss Sophy experience the servants’ garret. Rough cold sheets, hard beds, and perhaps a single blanket, especially if the housekeeper was displeased with the pert new maid. But she could not do it.

  ‘Oh Beth, that was inspired!’ said Miss Sophy. ‘I am very sleepy, and that bed is the finest I have ever seen. Much more elegant than my bed in Horescombe House, or even Foster Hall.’ She looked at Beth, smiling. I suppose your comfort will suffer a little, but you do not mind, do you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Beth truthfully, ‘But we have to exchange before Aggie comes in in the morning to light the fire.’

  ‘An honoured guest! And you have adopted my manner perfectly! How amusing. Now you must tell me all about the marquis and the princess. What are their characters? I declare they are a handsome pair. His face is a trifle harsh perhaps, but so masculine, and his dress is elegant. And she! What style she has. I could actually die to wear that dress she was wearing. Has it been awkward? Do they look at you down their noses and pucker up? They must have felt burdened by an unwanted guest, but perhaps were too polite to show it.’

  Beth’s eyes filled.

  ‘Oh, Beth, don’t be so tender. You have been very naughty and I suppose they will be disgusted when once they hear, but we could just run away tomorrow and they might never even know!’

  Beth regarded her with amazement. ‘And have them worry about me, or believe me so lost in all feeling as to fail to thank them for their kindness?’

  ‘You may leave a note. And then you will not see their rage!’

  Beth was almost tempted by this idea. This was Miss Sophy’s devilish genius. She persuaded one to ignore their own conscience, for she had none herself. Beth had her honest plan and she would stick to it. But she let Miss Sophy’s remarks go, perhaps appearing to agree. It was best Miss Sophy did not guess.

  So when the food arrived, she let her prattle on, and answered her questions about the household without truly confiding in her. It was time then to dress for dinner, and Beth changed, wrestling with the tiny buttons at her back. Miss Sophy, eventually noticing, sprang up to help. ‘Oh, Beth, fancy me dressing you.’ Beth smiled at this. Her mistress was really not unkind, just heedless. ‘Your hair needs attending to, I think.’

  ‘I’ll see to it,’ said Beth, rather regretting the deft hand of Aggie.

  ‘I have no idea what to do until the servants’ dinner, so late.’

  ‘Whatever you do,’ said Beth in a commanding tone, ‘Do not touch that sewing.’

  ‘I shall not,’ Miss Sophy laughed, ‘Mistress.’

  ‘There is a book on the nightstand,’ she offered before she left.

  ‘Oh, I think I will just lie down, it has been such an exciting day.’

  �
��Do not be late for the servants’ table,’ Beth warned, ‘or Mrs Fitch will punish you and cook may not feed you at all.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Miss Sophy, already settled on the coverlet, ‘miss.’ She shut her eyes.

  As Beth went downstairs, she saw Dobson at the foot, and moved to talk to him.

  ‘I think you know I am to leave tomorrow, Dobson. I wish to thank you for all you have done for me, and to ask one other service.’

  ‘Anything in my power, Miss Ludgate.’

  Beth shivered a little at the name, but continued.

  ‘Tomorrow, the family and I will go to Horescombe House in the carriage after breakfast. My maid will accompany us.’

  Dobson bowed. ‘You must keep the destination from the staff, in case my maid hears of it. She will not wish to go.’ Beth knew Miss Sophy well enough to understand she would hatch a plan to stay if she could.

  The butler’s mobile brows lifted. It was not a maid’s place to have preferences.

  She touched his sleeve. ‘George,’ she said in a more intimate voice, ‘you are intelligent enough to know all is not as it seems. I cannot tell you everything, but I must ask this service. Have two footmen near the carriage for the moment that my maid hears the destination. She must go, but she’s a bolter!’

  She moved away then, and felt Dobson’s questioning eyes on her back.

  The marquis and his sister were seated, and he stood as she joined him, her seat set by a footman, whom she acknowledged by a smile. She looked at Emmi, smiling but worried, she could see, and then at him. He was avoiding her eye and her heart contracted. Please give me this! she thought. It amazed her that she could hurt him so, that she could move him at all. Her gaze took in his dear, strong face, and she wished she could help him. He would be in more pain tomorrow, but the disclosure of her dire secret would ensure his quicker recovery. He could not mourn for a maid.

  Chapter 13

  When she came into the room, the marquis followed Beth with his eyes, but only while she was turned away. The footman seated her on his left, and he saw the brief smile she gave the man in gratitude. Everything fine about her. She gave dignity to that simple gown he had seen so often, her hair was casually arranged, her sweet face and lovely eyes his sheer delight. She was natural and unaffected when she smiled at Emmi, as she had been for most of the time after the first day of her visit. When she stopped being stiff and afraid, she had blossomed into a teasing beauty, the width of her glowing smile had caught at his heart. The more he admired her, the more she angered him. Why could she not show her trust in him by confiding?

  Emmi had reproached him this afternoon, reminding him that as it was Beth’s last night, she was to be indulged and he must stop looking like a brooding poet and oppressing everyone. Her last night. Why did both he and Emmi talk of this as though it were their last ever meeting, as though they were mourning her already? Horescombe House was only some six squares away. Visits, for Emmi at least, were entirely possible. But somehow, it did not feel this way, it felt that she was to be torn from their little group forever. Emmi had any number of friends, but none like Beth. With them, she was as confiding of her personal life as he was, which was to say, not at all. Emmi, trying now to smile to cover the grief in her eyes, made his heart contract in pity. She turned to him, and he gave his attention to the first course.

  Beth’s voice broke through Emmi’s chatter. ‘You know how thankful to both of you I am for all you have—’

  ‘Now Beth, you know I have had enough of your thanks and you know it has been a pleasure.’ The princess dashed a tear away. ‘Now you said you wanted a normal dinner for tonight, and that is what we shall have. No talk of tomorrow. And you, Wrexham,’ she said to her stiff brother, ‘shall comport yourself.’

  Wrexham sighed, playing with the stem of his glass, ‘Very well,’ he drawled. He looked at Beth and she smiled nervously, an almost pleading look in her eye. ‘I will!’ he conceded, ‘I promise!’ She gave a twisted smile in return and he was satisfied. Oh, my Beth. Trust me.

  There was then a silence of about three minutes, which was so pregnant that they all broke it with a laugh. ‘Oh dear,’ said the princess, ‘I’m afraid I cannot think what a normal dinner consists of!’

  Beth laughed shakily and said, ‘Well, you talk of your day’s purchases, and the latest on dits from the friends you met in town,’ instructed Beth.

  ‘And I?’ asked he.

  ‘She looked at him shyly, ‘Well, you laugh at Emmi and tease her for being a gossip and express no interest in her purchases, and then she chides you as a mere man. But then you talk gossip too,’ he raised his brows, ‘about the club, or horses, or gambling losses.’ His brows were still up. ‘Just because it is not from the mouth of a female, it still remains gossip.’ She was teasing him a little and she saw the answering warmth in his eyes.

  ‘I sound a very boring kind of fellow,’ he remarked.

  ‘Oh no, you also talk of your estate, and your tenants, and I find that very interesting.

  ‘You are a very strange creature, Beth, to be interested in that. And also the servants and the old books,’ Emmi remarked.

  He saw Beth look around her at the servants when they were mentioned. No doubt in case they reacted. But they all stood upright in their positions, ready to whisk away their plates and serve the next course. He supposed it was rather bad form to talk of them in their presence, but he could not say he had given it any thought before.

  Emmi was running on, ‘I sound rather empty-headed in your description, I must say.’

  ‘We-ell…,’ teased Beth. Then she laughed at Emmi’s fallen face. ‘You are very kind about your friends and charitable when you hear of a scandal. So I do not think you empty-headed at all.’

  ‘Beth,’ smiled Emmi warmly, ‘you are a dear. Well, as it seems my duty, I must tell you what happened when I ran into vile old Viscountess Swanson at the silk drapers.’

  They were back on their usual road, and Emmi made them laugh while Beth and he teased her. On more than one occasion, their eyes met, laughing. It was so long ago that he had thought her merely pretty. She was his one beauty, and this could not stop tonight, it must not. This was where she belonged, as his marchioness. But was that even what she wanted? Emmi had told him the deception did not include a husband, but who was to say another liaison did not exist — some other man. He ground his teeth.

  But he, too, was enjoying tonight too much. They had given her last dinner, and when they parted, she clasped both their hands, standing in a circle with them. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, and ran up the stairs.

  He stood looking after her, frozen for a moment. He felt Emmi’s hand on his arm, her body near him comfortingly. ‘Do not, Toby. We will know all tomorrow. She had her reasons for not telling us, but she is young, we must not forget that. She fears consequences that cannot be repaired. But we know that is not so.’

  He put his hand on hers, his eyes still fixated on the stairs, though Beth was no more to be seen. He thought of one problem that could not be repaired: her loving another. But he patted Emmi’s hand and they moved towards the stairs, to make their way to bed.

  The next morning, Beth packed her few belongings and those even more meagre of her erstwhile mistress, and left Miss Sophy drinking the morning chocolate that Aggie had brought for Beth. In Miss Sophy’s bag, she had hardly been surprised to find a heavy purse. Goodness knew where that had come from. For, as much as the general kept his ward liberally supplied with pin money, he would hardly give her this sum. But it did not surprise her. Young and naive Sophy certainly was, but she was certain to make plans to protect herself. She had once confided to Beth that she kept a hat pin on her person at all times, in case of emergencies. That night at Vauxhall had included one such an emergency, when a gentleman had become over-familiar with her during a waltz, and had tried to take her in one of the shady walks. No hat-pin at the ready, Miss Sophy had stamped forcefully on his instep and he had yelped, but made to catch
her again. Beth, observing the start of this from some distance, had run to her and discreetly pushed the gentlemen, still a little unbalanced, to the ground. Beth remembered how they had grasped hands and run off into the trees, Miss Sophy giggling and she herself, from the sheer relief of nerves, had joined her. They had been prostrate with laughter for some time, and this was the charm of Miss Sophy, and the danger. But at least the incident had finally allowed Beth to persuade her to go. For Beth had seen that as the wine flowed the behaviour of some of the revellers was becoming quite shocking. Indeed, since losing her position, that night had haunted Beth’s nightmares: full of leering faces, scantily clad ladies and large grasping, wandering hands. Vauxhall Gardens, for all its glittering evening beauty, was like Sodom to her.

  Sophy had enquired, casually, ‘What time are we to go to the Horescombes’ today, if your marquis so desires?’

  Beth could see that Miss Sophy was considering her options. Her opinion that the Horescombes had not suffered enough, had deeply concerned Beth. If she were not able to play this part of maid and mistress as she desired (and Beth was so tempted to let her really experience the work under a housekeeper’s eagle eye, sleeping in a room that was never heated at all) she was liable to run in some other direction to achieve her aim. So Beth had answered casually, forgiving herself the necessary untruth, ‘Oh, in the afternoon. The princess wants to walk in the park after breakfast. I have not wanted to go since I saw Miss Oaksett on the first day.’

  ‘Jane? Did you really? What did she say to you?’ said Sophy, rapt.

  ‘It is quite alright, she did not recognise me at all.’

  ‘How strange. I suppose she saw you most days for some weeks.’

  Beth was not so surprised at her invisibility, but did not answer. ‘But today, with you, we can walk at will if we keep our heads down. If the princess is greeted by friends, we may walk on a little, and she will not give my name. It will not be wondered at if I walk with my maid. It will give you a chance to play your rôle to perfection.’