Opal sat down heavily on the nearest chair and gulped. Surely Cook was joking? But no, one glance at her face told Opal that she was deadly serious.
‘Think on it,’ the cook rambled on as she expertly transferred the pastry to a prepared pie dish. ‘He’s been comin’ more an’ more regular these last few months, an’ I doubt it’s been to see his mother.’
‘B-but I don’t want to be the next Mrs King . . . I don’t want to marry anyone, if it comes to that. I’m only just eighteen.’
‘Huh! I was married wi’ two little ’uns by the time I were your age,’ Cook informed her. ‘But don’t get worryin’ about it. He can’t make yer marry him if you’ve no wish to. Though what I’ll say is this – he might not be a young, dashin’ blade, but yer could do a lot worse. Married to him yer’d have servants to wait on yer an’ yer’d never want fer nothin’. It beats bein’ married to a drunkard an’ bein’ knocked from pillar to post, never knowin’ where the next penny were comin’ from. Think on it, me girl.’
But Opal didn’t want to think on it and, rising, she quietly left the room. Thankfully Mrs King was having her afternoon nap, so once in the privacy of her room she crossed to the window and stared down on to the lawns below. The sky was heavy and grey, and she wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they had snow before the day was out. It had been threatening for days. With tears in her eyes, her thoughts turned, as they so often did, to her parents. They had never had much but they had been content with each other and she had always hoped that one day she would meet someone she could love as much as they had loved each other.
Her eyes strayed to the small desk beside the window, where a half-written letter to Charlie lay unfinished. She had written a number of letters to him, as Henry had told her that he’d made enquiries and believed that her brother had been shipped to the convict colony in Tasmania. But not one of her letters had been answered, and now she was wondering if they had ever even reached him, for perhaps the convicts were not allowed to have any correspondence from loved ones while they were serving their sentence.
Henry was trying to track down Susie for her too, and she was forced to admit that he had been more than kind to her. Without him, she had no idea what might have happened to her. She supposed that in a way she had grown fond of him, but she had never in her wildest dreams considered him to be a suitor! Cook must be wrong, she told herself, and she would go on as before. Nothing had changed, not really. Feeling better, she tapped on her mistress’s door to see if she was awake yet. Mrs King liked a cup of hot chocolate when she woke from her nap each afternoon.
‘Ah, there you are,’ Mrs King said, when Opal stepped into the room. ‘I forgot to mention that Henry will be joining us for dinner again this evening. His cook is in bed with a bad case of influenza, so I dare say we’ll see a lot of him until she’s up and about again. But now go and get my drink and then I’ll decide what I’m going to wear to dinner. I thought perhaps you could put that nice new dress on that you got a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t seen you wear it yet and that bronze colour suits you.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Opal slipped away to fetch the chocolate, and for the rest of the afternoon she was too busy seeing to her mistress’s needs to think of much else.
That evening, Mrs King chose to wear one of her favourite gowns in a deep-purple colour, and with it she wore her amethysts, which sparkled in the light of the oil lamp as Opal fastened the necklace about her neck. To go with the necklace she had a matching ring, bracelet and earrings, and when she was ready she looked quite regal.
‘I’m afraid jewellery is my weakness.’ She chuckled as she stroked the gleaming gems about her neck and Opal didn’t doubt it. Her mistress had jewels in all the colours of the rainbow: emeralds, sapphires, amethysts, diamonds and rubies, to name but a few. When she had first gone to work for her Opal had been almost afraid to touch anything so valuable, for she guessed that one single stone alone would probably be worth more than a whole of her year’s wages. But now she was used to handling them and was even entrusted with cleaning them when the old lady thought they needed it.
‘Right, m’dear, you’d better go and get yourself ready. Henry will be here any minute, but first you can help me downstairs and get me a glass of sherry.’
Opal did as she was told, before hurrying back upstairs to put on the newest dress Mrs King had bought her. She now had four very nice day gowns, but as yet there had still been no occasion to wear the lovely blue silk one, and secretly Opal doubted there ever would be. Even so, she gazed at it longingly as she lifted her newest dress from the armoire.
She was halfway down the stairs when she heard the front-door bell sound, and almost instantly Belle rushed forward to admit Henry King.
‘Why, Opal, my dear, you look quite charming,’ he remarked admiringly, and after handing his hat and coat to Belle, he offered his arm, which she took self-consciously, allowing him to lead her to the drawing room.
‘Ah, here you are, Henry. Come and sit by the fire to get warm. Would you like a brandy?’
‘No, thank you, Mother, not before dinner.’ He bent to peck her on the cheek and hurried on, ‘I have something rather nice to tell you. My dear friend Peter Dawson-Myres has invited me to a ball. You too, of course, and you, Opal.’
Opal gawped wordlessly. A ball! Surely there must be some mistake; since when were servants invited to attend a ball?
But his mother took it all in her stride. ‘Do shut your mouth, my dear,’ she advised. ‘You look like you are catching flies and it is most unladylike! And yes, of course you must come too. You are my companion and as such it is fitting that you should be invited.’ Then, turning back to her son, she asked, ‘And when is this grand occasion to be?’
‘On Christmas Eve and it looks set to be a very fine affair.’
‘Hm, I shall have to get Opal to check my wardrobe,’ the old woman said thoughtfully. ‘It’s been a while since I last attended such an event. I just hope the moths haven’t got into my gowns.’
‘Order a new one if necessary,’ Henry told her. ‘And allow me to pay for it for your Christmas present.’
His mother scowled at him as she sat forward, leaning heavily on her walking stick. ‘I’m not quite a charity case yet,’ she scolded.
Thankfully Belle appeared in the doorway then to inform them that dinner was ready, and with the ladies on each arm Henry led them to the dining room.
‘Is the ball to be at his place?’ his mother asked as Belle served the first course.
‘Yes, I believe he has hired caterers from London.’ And then realising that Opal had no idea where ‘his place’ was, he told her, ‘Peter has a wonderful home in Caldecote. It’s very grand, so it looks set to be a wonderful evening. I’m sure you will enjoy it. All the local dignitaries will be there, as well as many he knows from London.’
Opal inclined her head and, as the meal progressed, Henry could speak of nothing but the ball ahead. ‘I’ve been to see my tailor today. He’s making me an evening suit,’ he informed his mother.
‘Very nice, dear,’ she answered, only half listening. Then, turning to Opal, she told her, ‘This will be a nice opportunity for you to wear your blue satin gown, dear, and also to show off all the lessons I have taught you on how to conduct yourself as a young lady when in company.’
‘Yes, Mrs King,’ Opal answered, with mixed emotions. As the old lady had said, it would be a wonderful opportunity to wear her beautiful dress – but there was just one problem.
‘The only thing is . . .’ she said hesitantly. ‘I don’t know how to dance. At least, not the sort of dances they will be doing at a ball.’
‘Oh, don’t get worrying about that.’ Henry grinned at her as he laid his napkin across his lap. ‘I shall give you a few lessons here before we go. It’s very easy really, you just follow me and you’ll get the hang of it in no time. In fact, we’ll start this very evening when we’ve finished our meal.’
Opal flushed at the thought of him
holding her, but she could hardly object so she simply smiled.
Once the meal was over, Henry led the ladies back to the drawing room.
‘We’ll start with a waltz,’ he told Opal, and somewhat reluctantly she allowed him to place his arm about her waist, as her mistress looked on. ‘Hold my hand up here like so . . . that’s it, now put your other hand here and just follow me while I hum a tune.’
Opal suddenly got a fit of the giggles, but instead of being annoyed as she had feared, Henry began to laugh with her as he guided her around the room, and she found that she was quite enjoying herself.
‘One two three, one two three,’ he chanted.
Soon Opal felt that she was getting the hang of it. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as she had feared, and Henry was turning out to be a surprisingly patient tutor. Eventually, as she grew more confident, he quickened his steps and before long they were whirling about the room.
‘There, first lesson over. That wasn’t so bad, was it?’ he asked when he finally released her.
Laughing, she shook her head. ‘No, it was quite fun, actually,’ she admitted breathlessly.
‘Good, and by the time the ball rolls around you’ll be good at it. I shall make a point of coming to teach you every chance I get.’
As the old lady looked on, her lips curled into a smile. So, I was right, she thought. Henry has set his sights on her.
She didn’t mind in the least, for in the time Opal had worked for her she had grown very fond of the girl. She could only hope that if Opal did see the merits of becoming Henry’s wife, he would treat her better than he had the last one.
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was Christmas Eve and Mrs King’s house looked resplendent. A tall Christmas tree decorated with candles and glass baubles stood in the entrance hall, and another smaller one stood beside the fireplace in the drawing room. Opal had been out and picked bunches of holly sporting bright-red berries, and had placed them in crystal vases in almost every room.
The kitchen was bustling as Cook prepared an enormous goose for the next day, when Henry and Miss and Mrs Partridge would be coming for lunch. Opal was so excited at the prospect of the evening ahead that she could hardly stop smiling. It had been arranged that she would help Mrs King to dress early, so that she would have time to get herself ready, and Belle had offered to help her with her hair. Henry would be calling for them at seven o’clock promptly, and Mrs King had lent Opal a beautiful velvet cloak with a fur-trimmed hood to go over her gown. She had also bought her a pair of blue satin slippers that matched her dress perfectly as her Christmas gift, and Opal could hardly wait to put them on.
Opal had risen early that morning to bathe and wash her hair, which she had then dried by the fire, and now it fell about her shoulders in shining waves.
When it came to lunchtime, Opal was so nervous that she could barely eat a thing, but Mrs King had told her not to worry as there would be plenty to eat at the ball.
‘Peter and his wife Emma always lay on a grand spread for any guests they have, so you can eat then if you wish to,’ she told Opal kindly. It was nice to see the girl looking so happy.
After lunch, Opal read to her mistress for a time, but her mind was clearly not on it and eventually Mrs King told her to stop. ‘I’m going up for my lie-down,’ she informed her. ‘And if you’ve any sense you should do the same. It’s going to be a very late night, so rest while you can so that you enjoy it.’
Opal did try to do as she was told, but as she lay on her bed watching the snow gently falling outside the window, her eyes kept straying to the beautiful gown and the dainty slippers she would be wearing that evening.
When it was time to start getting Mrs King ready, Opal was glad of the distraction; the snow was still falling and she had begun to worry. What if Henry’s carriage couldn’t get through it? What if the roads became impassable? She voiced her concerns to Mrs King, who snorted. ‘Huh! Henry will be here, never you fear. I think he is looking forward to it almost as much as we are.’
Opal helped her to dress, this time in a burgundy satin gown that she had never seen her in before. ‘I think I shall wear my rubies tonight,’ Mrs King said thoughtfully as Opal dressed her hair.
Eventually, she was ready.
‘Will I do?’ Mrs King asked, as she stared at herself in the looking glass on her dressing table.
Opal smiled broadly. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, ma’am, you look quite . . . quite’ – she searched her mind for the word she was looking for – ‘majestic!’
‘That’ll do nicely.’ Mrs King chuckled. ‘I don’t scrub up bad for an old lady, even if I do say so myself. But now help me downstairs, girl, and settle me by the fire with a glass of sherry. Then go and get ready. I don’t want you showing us up.’
Belle was already waiting in Opal’s room when she there, stroking the blue dress enviously.
‘Eeh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a lovelier gown,’ she sighed. ‘You’re going to look grand in this.’
‘I hope so,’ Opal told her, as she wiggled out of her dress and petticoats. Belle helped her into the petticoats that went with the dress and finally it was time to slip the gown on.
Belle lifted it over her head, then began the task of doing up the many tiny, satin-covered buttons at the back of it. ‘Ooh, I’m all fingers an’ thumbs,’ she groaned, but at last it was done and she guided Opal to her dressing table. ‘I thought we might pile all your hair on the top o’ yer head like so,’ she demonstrated. ‘Then I’m goin’ to tease it into little ringlets that fall all down the back. I’ve bought some o’ me own clips cos I don’t think you have any. What do yer think?’
‘It sounds lovely, if you think you could manage it,’ Opal said uncertainly as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
‘Oh, I’m good at dressin’ hair; I used to practise on me mam,’ Belle assured her as she began.
Finally, Belle finished to her satisfaction. ‘Yer can look now. Come on over to the cheval mirror.’
When Opal went and stood in front of the looking glass, she gasped. Her hair looked lovely and the dress, which was off the shoulder and a little lower cut than anything she had ever dared to wear before, made her feel like a princess. It was tight into the waist, making it look tiny, and then it flared into shimmering folds that rustled with every movement.
‘You look really beautiful,’ Belle told her with a catch in her voice. ‘An’ I don’t mind bettin’ me next quarter’s wages every bloke at the ball will want to dance wi’ you.’
‘Oh!’ Opal was momentarily speechless. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined owning a gown so fine or looking like this and in her excitement she did a little twirl.
‘Right, missie. It’s time you were getting’ yourself downstairs.’ Belle giggled. ‘An’ you just be sure to enjoy yourself. I only wish I were comin’ with you.’
‘I wish you were too,’ Opal told her earnestly, as she turned to face her. ‘And thank you so much for doing my hair.’
‘It were my pleasure.’ Belle ushered her out of the room and lifting her skirts, Opal raised her chin and floated down the stairs. She had just reached the bottom when Henry appeared out of the drawing room and at the sight of Opal, his mouth dropped open.
‘Why, my dear girl, you look . . .’ He shook his head as if he was seeing her for the first time. ‘Absolutely splendid.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Opal dipped her knee and blushed as he gently took her arm and led her into the drawing room where Mrs King was waiting for her.
She too told her how lovely she looked, before beckoning her over. She was holding a black velvet box and holding it towards Opal, she told her, ‘I thought you might like to wear these tonight. My dear husband bought them for me on our first wedding anniversary many years ago and I thought how well they would complement your gown.’
Opal gasped as Mrs King snapped open the box to reveal a string of perfectly matched pearls. ‘O-Oh, that’s very kind o
f you,’ she stuttered. ‘But I’m afraid they must be worth a great deal of money and I would be too afraid to wear them.’
‘Oh, fiddlesticks! Henry, come and fasten them about her neck for her.’
Henry did as he was told, enjoying the feeling of her creamy skin as he fiddled with the clasp.
‘You were right, Mother,’ he said approvingly. ‘They match her gown beautifully. But now it’s time we were leaving, ladies, if we wish to arrive on time.’
Lifting the velvet cloak, he slipped it across Opal’s slender shoulders and then, after helping his mother into a long mink coat, they made for the door. Belle was waiting in the hallway to open the front door for them, and she gave Opal a little wink as she passed.
In the carriage, Opal sank back against the leather squabs, her face glowing with excitement. The snow was still falling and beyond the carriage windows the world looked as if it had been coated in fairy dust, which only added to her happy mood.
The carriage rattled through Weddington and once they were in Caldecote it turned through some enormous iron gates that led on to a winding, tree-lined, gravel drive that was lit by lanterns strung from the branches. When they arrived at the large forecourt, people were descending from their carriages and the horses were being led away to the stables by smartly dressed grooms. Lights spilled from every window, and a footman in livery stood beside the open front doors welcoming the guests.
Opal began to feel as if she were caught up in a fairy tale as the carriage door was opened and she was helped down. After climbing the steps, they walked into the most enormous hallway that Opal had ever seen; it was as if she had stepped into another world.
‘Your cloak, miss.’ A fresh-faced maid in a navy dress and a mop cap and apron trimmed with broderie anglaise took Opal’s cloak and pointed down the hallway. ‘The ladies’ powder room is down there, miss, if you wish to tidy yourself.’
‘Go on,’ Mrs King urged her. ‘I want a word with Emma, Peter’s wife; it’s some time since we have seen each other. I shall wait here for you.’
The Winter Promise Page 16