Mending the Duke's Heart: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  His rose-coloured glasses had been removed, and he saw the world for what it was now. Nothing more than a game played to trick and fool others for the betterment of self. This was the nature of every single member of the ton, if not all women, and he would never, ever be fooled again.

  Chapter 7

  “I suppose you are Miss Ward,” a sour-faced woman said as she stood in the doorframe of the servant’s entrance.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ella spoke as sure as she could.

  She had barely slept at all the night before. Her mother had scarcely spoken two words to her since their argument over this position.

  It hadn’t taken long for Ella to find three girls, all with exceptional skills, happy to take the position at a dress shop that seemed to be on everyone’s lips. Both Ella and Mrs Ward had watched them and determined they were skilled enough to provide the work needed for the store. It was agreed that Ella’s patterns would still be used, and she would do her best to add several more even while she was away, and the sewing girls would work in the back while Mrs Ward saw to the customers at the front of the store.

  Ella had packed her spare dress saved for church, a nightgown, and a few underthings into a dusty portmanteau that had sat under their shared bed for years. That morning she had risen having not slept at all, made breakfast for herself and her mother, and sat at the small table while they ate in silence.

  Ella had left the only home she really remembered just as the new girls arrived to help with the sewing. Her mother had barely said goodbye before passing through the curtain to the front of the shop to ensure things were tidy and ready for the day.

  The whole walk to the Duke’s house had Ella second-guessing if she genuinely was making the right decision. It was too late now, however, to alter her course.

  The housekeeper had opened the door nearly as soon as Ella had knocked on it, suggesting that she had been waiting for her arrival.

  Mrs Jenkins seemed a very sour woman. Her mouse-brown hair was pulled back so tightly in its bun that it gave her eyes a slight almond shape. She looked down on Ella with a sceptical, judgmental brow.

  Ella instantly felt the need to brush the wrinkles out of the front of her grey work dress or ensure no frizz had escaped the simple brown plait that she had pinned up atop her head. She had never been very good at doing hair, nor her mother. The two of them often wore simple braids down their backs just to keep it out of the way while they worked.

  Despite finding her wanting, the housekeeper stepped to the side to let Ella in. She took a steadying breath before making the final few steps through the threshold and into the new life she was about to experience.

  She found herself standing in a kitchen already ablaze with activity. Servants were rushing in and out from two separate doors while a cook and several helpers busied themselves preparing the morning meal.

  “The house does not rise for several more hours, but, as you can see, it is important for us to be ready when they do wake.”

  Ella nodded her understanding as she watched all the work. Her eyes followed a servant who lifted a large pot of water, just barely steaming, and carried it to a partition in the corner of the room. As she watched, her eyes caught a long wooden table.

  “Do I take my meals here? What time should I be down?” Ella asked.

  Mrs Jenkins scoffed.

  “This area is for the staff to take their meals. You are not staff. In fact, you are nothing but a street urchin that has no right to set foot in this fine house. Why His Grace wishes to pluck a woman with no reputation off the streets to influence Lady Pamala is beyond my judgment…” Mrs Jenkins shook her head, and Ella guessed she wished to say more on the point but held her tongue.

  “I’m no urchin.”

  Ella jutted out her chin a bit, gaining back some of her courage.

  “I am part of a very fine establishment and have been called on for my expertise,” she explained on, though unrequested.

  She did her best to sound just as refined as the housekeeper, using every big word she could think of.

  Mrs Jenkins simply huffed in return in a way very reminiscent of Emma’s mother.

  “If you don’t mind, I would like to set down my belongings and prepare myself for my first day,” Ella continued, narrowing her gaze at the housekeeper.

  Ella was a product of London. She walked the streets daily and fought off ruffians in the market; no well-dressed housekeeper was going to scare her.

  “Fine,” the housekeeper spoke with a curt nod. “First, you will set your things here.” She motioned to the floor. “I refuse to have anything in the house that hasn’t been properly cleaned.”

  “Excuse me?” Ella spat out in shock.

  “Hurry up. Put your things down and get behind the partition,” Mrs Jenkins said with a shooing motion. “Do you not know what a proper cleaning is, or something?” she finished when Ella didn’t move.

  It was a challenge, and Ella’s stubbornness refused to let her back down.

  Setting down her portmanteau and walking to the partition, she saw what the pot of water was for. There was a larger wooden bucket that reached nearly to her knees. The maid who had poured the water was standing waiting. Mrs Jenkins followed her to the mostly concealed corner of the kitchen.

  “Let’s go, strip your things. We don’t have all day. Much to do, you know,” Mrs Jenkins pressed on.

  Ella couldn’t believe that the woman wanted her to strip down and wash right here in a room with men and women running in and out. Yes, there was a wooden partition, but that was hardly a significant amount of privacy.

  “Dear, do you not know what to do?” the maid said with scoffing pity.

  “She certainly smells like she doesn’t know what to do,” Mrs Jenkins responded.

  Ella gritted her teeth and started to undress before the two ladies. Satisfied, the housekeeper turned to leave, but it seemed the maid had no plans to leave her to her work alone.

  Ella certainly did bathe regularly, and though they had no tub, she did well to clean her body and hair regularly with the small lavender soap that was treated akin to precious gold in the Ward home. She didn’t believe for one second she smelled. They were just trying to intimidate her, and she wouldn’t have it.

  Standing in the tub, she found it to be nearly freezing. Clearly, the water’s warming had just been for a show, as it felt as if it had only been over the fire long enough to melt winter snow. Taking a bucket, the maid promptly and without ceremony dumped it over Ella’s head.

  Ella gasped at the shock of it. This bucket had not even passed over the fire. She gritted her teeth harder and refused to show her discomfort. The maid took up a large chunk of lye soap and began to rub it across a stiff bristle brushed. Ella recognized it as one that might be used for laundry.

  “I am capable of washing myself,” Ella did her best to say without shivering.

  “Yes, well, I’m instructed to see the job done right,” the maid said with an evil glint in her eyes.

  Ella didn’t make a sound as the rough brush was scrubbed against every inch of her body. She wasn’t sure if the burning was from the bristles or the strong lye smell that came from the soap the maid continually massaged into the brush, but either way, Ella was determined to show no discomfort.

  A second bucket was passed to the maid and dumped over Ella’s body before lye suds were scrubbed into her long dark hair. She was sure the maid was purposefully pulling and twisting her now unbraided hair, making the excuse of knots. Ella had painstakingly brushed her hair that morning before styling it, however, and knew that all the ‘knots’ were fabrications to cause more pain.

  Finally, she was done. She was instructed to dress without even a cloth to dry her dripping hair. She managed to dress and pin her hair back up as best as possible without a mirror, all while the maid glared her down.

  She came out from behind the partition to find the housekeeper studying the timepiece attached to her bodice.

  “I suppos
e this will do?” Ella asked.

  The housekeeper looked her up and down, with the same disdain, before huffing her satisfaction.

  “Follow me,” she stated and turned to leave the room.

  Ella grabbed her belongings off the floor and did her best to exit the room without making eye contact with any of the other servants. She could feel all their eyes follow her and even heard the distinct sound of two girls snickering.

  “You will arise every morning at five o’clock,” Mrs Jenkins spoke as they wound their way through the servants’ quarters and up the stairs to the main level of the house.

  Ella could barely notice anything of the fine home as she hurried to keep up with the housekeeper as she ascended the second flight of stairs.

  “You will have a room for your use, and the nursery has been converted into a sewing area. I see no reason for you to venture out of these two areas unless accompanied. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” Ella spoke smoothly, doing her best to hide her disdain.

  “Breakfast and a basin of water will be delivered to your room every morning at five-thirty. You will need to return your own tray and take out your own filthy water. You are required to wash daily,” she added as if Ella had never been taught this.

  They stopped at the door, and it was opened for her entrance. It was a beautiful room that took her breath away almost as much as the cold burst of air. No fire was lit in the small grate, and a window had been left open to air it out for use.

  “You will tend your own fires; ashes go here.” Mrs Jenkins motioned to a bucket. “And don’t expect that we will do your laundry. You can use the washbasin outside near the coal bin. When Lady Pamala is present, you may take your meals with the family, but otherwise, you will take them here,” she ordered. “Is any of this unclear?”

  Ella wished to say that Mrs Jenkins was perfectly clear. She was no more wanted in this house than a rat and would not be treated any better than the vermin. Instead, she simply nodded her head curtly.

  Mrs Jenkins turned quickly and left the room. Ella studied her surroundings for only a few minutes. She walked to the one window with a view over the back of the house where a small walking garden had paths laid out for a leisurely stroll.

  The room itself was nearly as big as the whole back half of the shop. Along with the small hearth, there was a large four-poster bed with a chest at its end. A wardrobe was adjacent to the window. She opened its creaking wooden doors it to find it empty. No doubt, it was for the room’s occupant to place all their gowns.

  Decidedly she opened her portmanteau and added her black church dress and nightgown into the wardrobe. They looked very lonely, but it mattered very little to Ella. She placed the rest of her things in the chest and set her few toiletries on the small table next to the wardrobe below an intricately framed mirror.

  She studied herself in the mirror for just a moment. Her hair was still sopping wet, though the tight bun she had pinned was at least keeping it from dripping, and her skin was still pink from the scrubbing.

  After setting out her things, she found her way to the coal bucket outside and back to her room. After adding the small supply of coal next to the fireplace, she went to find her way to the nursery, as Mrs Jenkins had described.

  She was happy to find that this room already had a warm fire blazing in it. It was clear that it had once been a nursery. However, now there were rolls of various fabrics on tables along with three of the four walls. Near the hearth were two plush chairs with embroidery baskets.

  Ella took a moment to study a long piece of fabric that had a section stretched on a hoop. Beautiful soft pink roses with pearls for their centres were sewn into nearly identical pink satin in a regular pattern.

  She hesitated to look in the basket at the foot of the chair that had several papers in it. At first glance, she could already tell that they were designs for a dress. Her fingers itched to look at it but she didn’t want to pry too much into Lady Pamala’s things.

  “Oh, how wonderful, you’re here, Miss Ward,” a soft voice announced from the doorway.

  Ella turned around to find Lady Pamala excitedly clapping her hands as she entered the room. She curtsied politely to the Lady.

  “I’m grateful for the opportunity to help you again, your ladyship,” Ella said.

  “Oh, I can’t tell you how excited I was when Lord Melvin explained to me that my brother wanted to invite you to stay with us for a time. It will be so nice to have the company. Mother gives me such a hard time for shutting myself up in here for long hours, and for the most part, I pretend I don’t mind it simply to annoy her, but I must admit it does get a bit lonely.”

  Lady Pamala strode across the room and took both of Ella’s hands in an amiable gesture.

  “It will be so nice to have a second opinion on things as well. Mother thinks if I make my own gown for court, it will look a right mess, and now I fear she may be right as I only have my own opinion to work with. But now, with the two of us, and you being so remarkably skilled with designing, I am sure to have something wonderful.”

  “If this is any indication of your abilities,” Ella motioned to the embroidery, “I don’t think I can help to better your skills.”

  Lady Pamala waved off the compliment and walked over to the mentioned garment.

  “This will be the underskirt.”

  She reached down into the basket that Ella had been itching to go through and pulled out the design.

  “I want you to be truthful,” Lady Pamala said, handing over the papers. “Mother is sure that my idea will be simple compared to a real milliner, so whatever you think should be changed or altered, I will listen.”

  Ella found it an extraordinary moment. Even as she showed her own designs to ladies at the dress shop, she would never dream of instructing them on what she thought was best. It was never her place to instruct ladies on anything. She simply offered the plans and then changed them as the lady in question saw fit, even if she thought it was all wrong.

  Ella smiled nervously and then let her eyes go over all the designs. It was a very elaborate dress, as was to be expected for such an event. The inside was coloured in the soft blush pink with the pearl centred roses. The top was cinched blush silk. An ivory white satin overlaid the pink fabric like a coat that pinched at the high waist.

  A triangle of the gathered satin could be visible at the top while a panel of the pink skirt was exposed in a larger triangle at the bottom. The ivory satin was drawn with a peacock feather design that followed the hem of the dress from neckline to floor and followed around the gown’s long train.

  The white fabric itself made up the cap sleeves and opened like a stiff collar with angular points at either side of the wearer’s face. It was a risk as collars weren’t in fashion. It was done so differently than any she had ever seen before. It almost looked like the collar of a man’s jacket but standing up on end. It certainly was unique, and for that reason alone, Ella loved it.

  “I think it looks beautiful,” Ella finally spoke after looking over all the drawings. “Quite a lot of work, though.”

  “But now with two hands, it will go by so quickly,” Lady Pamala encouraged.

  “Could I make only one suggestion?” Ella asked.

  “Oh yes, please,” Lady Pamala spurred on.

  “Why make the undergarment a full dress? Perhaps just a full skirt and panel sewn in at the top?”

  Lady Pamala seemed to jump with excitement at the question.

  “Well,” she said slowly as she pulled out another paper from the basket. “You see, I would like to remove the ivory potion after court and use the pink item as my dress for the ball.”