Beneath the Mask

by Margaret McGaffey Fisk

  “Come over here, Daphne. Bernadette needs to take your measurements.” Lady Scarborough waved Daphne over, showing no sign she’d noticed the inappropriate conversation.

  They moved into the back room where Daphne stripped to her underdress, again sparking tuts from the dressmaker at her muscled limbs. Daphne suffered the treatment without comment, shifting when she had to and holding still otherwise. She felt a moment of sympathy with the girl in the main room, having become little more than a dressmaker’s dummy.

  “That’s all I need. It will take some time, but I think I can manage the first we discussed by midweek if the situation is as desperate as you said.”

  Pulled back out of her thoughts, Daphne asked, “What’s so desperate?” before thinking.

  “Your clothing situation, my dear. Every day over at Penelope’s and a wardrobe falling to pieces. What could be more desperate?”

  Daphne looked at the dressmaker, expecting humor at her mother’s melodrama, but Bernadette’s expression only mirrored her mother’s concern. She shrugged. “You know best, Mother.”

  Lady Scarborough smiled at Daphne. “Of course I do, dear. Now let’s go take a stroll down to the hatmaker. Bernadette says they have just the thing to go with your new dress.”

  The dressmaker cooed over the hats she’d seen, recommending ribbons over feathers while helping Daphne back into her dress. “Never feathers. They’re only suited for an older, mature woman. A girl needs something to twirl in her fingers when a young man smiles in her direction.”

  Again, Lady Scarborough took the lead, approving of Bernadette’s advice or shaking it off with a gentle laugh. Daphne trembled inside, imagining her life after coming out as a brightly colored nightmare filled with dressmakers, hatmakers, and who knew what else when all she truly wanted was to dance.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Daphne drew in a deep breath as they stepped through the door, relieved with the oppressive atmosphere behind her. She glanced around for their carriage and waved to Willem when she saw him waiting in an out-of-the-way spot.

  Lady Scarborough placed a hand on Daphne’s arm and pulled it down. “Have you forgotten already? We’re going to the hatmaker next. Surely you don’t need a carriage to take you such a short distance.” She tucked her arm through Daphne’s and tugged until they started walking. “I don’t know how you stay so slender when you don’t get the least bit of exercise. I imagine you sit and talk with your friends all day and all you do at home is sleep.”

  Daphne avoided an answer, laughing inwardly at the picture her mother presented. It could not be farther from the truth—a truth her mother must never know.

  The bitter scent of thick glue announced their arrival even before Lady Scarborough pushed open the door. If the dressmaker’s shop had felt like understated elegance, this one dazzled Daphne with its brilliant mix of colors and objects. Hats with feathers hung from dark walnut hat racks while bonnets decorated cloth-covered wire shapes.

  She took a step toward the bonnets, their colorful yet simple forms appealing to her.

  “Oh no, Daphne. You need something special for your new dress. You’ve outgrown bonnets for all but carriage rides.” Her mother took Daphne’s hand and pulled her toward the back, thankfully passing up the more garish, feathered structures near the entrance.

  “Ribbons. We need ribbons,” Lady Scarborough muttered under her breath as she scanned a row of hats. “Your dresses will be white of course, suiting someone of your age, but with emerald green highlights. Look for ribbons in that color, dear.”

  Daphne scanned the area they stood in, trying to distinguish one hat from another in explosion of fashion. She gasped, startled, when her gaze found another young woman in the shop. She’d thought they had the curious place to themselves.

  “What’s that?” her mother asked, turning toward the other woman. “Did you find something?”

  Lady Scarborough also froze at the sight, but recovered almost instantly. “Meredith Smythson? Little Merry, is that really you?”

  Daphne cringed at her mother’s tone and recognized a similar reluctance as the other woman nodded.

  “What brings you here?” Lady Scarborough asked, seemingly unaware of the tension. “Why, to get a hat, I suppose.” She answered her own question with a laugh.

  Meredith smiled slightly and turned to stare toward a small door, presumably where the proprietor had gone.

  Lady Scarborough remained oblivious to the other woman’s disinterest as she moved closer, one hand pulling Daphne along. A quick jerk put Daphne out in front just as they reached the other woman. Daphne looked up to share a commiserating look, only to be met by disdain.

  “You must know my daughter. She’s Penelope’s friend, and from what I’ve heard, you’ve spent a good bit of time at that house yourself.”

  A fever flush heated Daphne’s face as her worst fears came true. She stared at the other woman, hoping horror didn’t show on her face. She’d thought to have much longer before her world came crashing down.

  Meredith stared at Daphne, her expression unchanged. After a long moment in which Daphne felt examined and found wanting, the other woman laughed. “She’s just a girl. Not even out yet. Why would I waste my attention on someone like that?”

  Daphne gaped, aware of her mother’s swiftly drawn in breath, but unable to react to such a complete dismissal.

  “Enrique,” Meredith called to the closed door. “I’ll come back some other time when you are less busy.”

  Ignoring both of them, she pushed past and headed for the door.

  “But Mistress Smythson?” the shopkeeper called, racing out of the door. “Your hat—”

  He stopped as soon as he saw them, bowing low over the beribboned crown he held in his hand. “Lady Scarborough. How delighted I am to see you here,” he said, the other woman forgotten.

  Daphne glanced toward the door in time to see Meredith stiffen at the sound of her mother’s title. When the other woman continued on her way, her step had little of the earlier arrogance.

  With a smile, Daphne turned back to listen to her mother describe the dress. Little Merry had obviously not seen Lady Scarborough recently enough to recognize her, or to know whom she had married. Whatever their current circumstances, a countess was not one to annoy. The thought gave Daphne pause as she realized she ran the same risk, but her heart wouldn’t let her give up her dreams. Whatever the consequences, when they eventually came, she’d face them knowing she’d had her moment on the stage. Far better than never having had one.

  DAPHNE TOOK THE HATBOX FROM her mother, worried its stiff cardboard would fail to protect the bonnet inside.

  “The nerve of that chit,” Lady Scarborough said, continuing the low-voiced rant she’d begun as soon as they left the hat shop.

  The shopkeeper, perhaps recognizing something had happened in his shop, went out of his way to help them, even offering a bonnet for Daphne to wear while he made a chapeau, as he called the hats, for her specially. Only his care had kept her mother silent that long.

  Willem drew up beside them, leaping down to help first Lady Scarborough then Daphne into the carriage. He didn’t offer her a wink this time, moving quickly and efficiently.

  “If she thinks this is the last of it,” Daphne’s mother said, as if nothing had happened to disrupt her tirade, “she’s got another think coming. No up and comer like that girl should dare dismiss my daughter, much less dismiss me.”

  “She didn’t recognize either of us,” Daphne said, attempting to soothe her mother.

  “And more fault to her. In my day, we knew all of those we’d hope to impress by description if we hadn’t been lucky enough to be introduced. And she should be ever more careful than the rest, being what she is.”

  Lady Scarborough stared at Daphne as if she should understand this cryptic pronouncement, but Daphne only shook her head, bewildered.

  Her mother’s lips compressed in disappointment, then she shook her head. “I don’t know why I sh
ould be surprised. Thank goodness we finally cut your ties to that dance instructor. You need to be educated on the real world more than gaining worthless skills and reading books.”

  Daphne held back her anger at this dismissal of her dream, knowing better than to refocus her mother’s upset. As if understanding whatever foolishness this Meredith had done would make her a better person.

  Lady Scarborough leaned forward, whispering in a confiding tone. “Her mother married beneath her, Daphne. It was a scandalous affair. A lieutenant in the Navy, youngest son of a mere knight. We’d been friends as girls and I tried to keep relations, to give her someone to talk to when her lieutenant sailed off to sea. It became so difficult. Your father never said a word, but I knew people talked. When you were born, with both Grace and you to take care of, I just decided the effort was too much.”

  “You stopped seeing a friend because she didn’t match your station?” The question slipped out before Daphne could censor it, seeing her mother in a different light.

  Lady Scarborough laughed. “It was never that simple. I should have broken off the relationship much earlier, but you get half your stubbornness from me. Thank goodness Grace never gave me a moment of trouble.”

  Daphne stayed quiet, ignoring the tease as she waited for more of an answer. She’d always known her mother was acutely aware of social rules, but to go so far?

  With a sigh, her mother settled back against the cushion and stared out the window for a long while until Daphne thought she’d never get an answer.

  “It was a long time ago,” Lady Scarborough started. “Helen always did like men in uniform. Her parents should have been more careful, but they never imagined she’d treat them so poorly. While they arranged a good match with a decent suitor, she slipped out with the lieutenant one night and raced up to Scotland. It caused an uproar, I can tell you. Her parents disowned her, leaving poor Helen to live on a lieutenant’s salary. Sure enough he never did make captain after the disgrace.”

  Daphne shuddered, her motion masked as their carriage went over a hole in the road. Would her parents disown her? She could live on the salary Monsieur Henre held for her—she knew she could as her needs were small—but to never see her family again would be unbearable.

  Lady Scarborough continued talking about how Helen’s sister had taken pity on Meredith and practically adopted the girl, even supporting her coming out. Daphne barely listened, chilled to the bone by her mother’s belief her friend had deserved the treatment. Where was the generosity of spirit she’d always believed Lady Scarborough sheltered? And how would her mother react to Daphne’s deceit?

  Numbly, Daphne stared out the window, unable to give up her dream, but only now really understanding what she risked in pursuing it. As much as she abhorred the artificial life her mother and sister seemed to thrive on, she’d feel its loss bitterly.

  “Come on, dear. We’re home,” Lady Scarborough said, tapping Daphne’s arm. “You look all done in. Why don’t you slip up for a nap before the evening’s entertainment? It’ll do you a world of good.”

  Daphne summoned a smile for her mother and stumbled up to her room, suddenly feeling the exhaustion her mother had seen. She slipped out of her gown and crawled into bed in her shift, hugging her pillow to her chest.

  Sleep provided no protection from her thoughts as the worries pursued her, throwing up images of her mother with frown lines cutting into her face. “We disowned her, of course,” the phantom said, shaking its head with disapproval.

  Chasing after the image, Daphne never managed to catch up as it flitted from group to group, each of which turned their back on Daphne, rejecting her presence. She’d never cared about other opinions before, but her dreams revealed she’d also never considered how she’d feel with her whole world turned against her. Even the image of Grace shook its head back and forth before slipping away.

  DAPHNE JERKED AWAKE, HER HAND aching where it had hit the headboard. She stared around the dim room, unable to remember what day it was. Her gaze fell on the hatbox and memory returned along with frantic energy.

  “Twilight,” she muttered. “How late did I sleep?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer from the silent room, just pulled her dress over her head and struggled with the laces. The bundle holding her mask and plainer dress lay next to her bed ready for her to snatch. She’d packed it in the morning in case she was rushed, but never imagined this.

  Daphne leaned out her window, releasing her breath in a sigh of relief as she saw the carriage already waiting for her. How long had he been down there? she wondered. Shaking her head, she picked up the bag and raced down the staircase with a complete lack of decorous pace. Her hair, loosened during her nap, fell forward to veil her eyes.

  “You are not planning to go out like that, I hope?” her mother’s shocked voice came from the hallway below.

  Daphne brushed her hair back and stared at her mother in horror. Grace, standing next to Lady Scarborough, hid a smile behind her fingers.

  Pushing the bag behind her, Daphne scrambled for an answer, another lie to add to her list of falsehoods. “Actually, I was looking for a maid to help me with my hair.”

  Grace winked at her, obviously seeing through the excuse though she probably assumed Daphne just forgot what she looked like in her rush.

  The front door opened, and Willem stepped inside, his eyes widening when he caught sight of her. He shook his head slightly and turned to her mother. “Lady Scarborough, the carriage is ready.”

  “But—” Daphne silenced herself with an effort, trying to figure out what to do. How would she get to the theater without Willem?

  “Hurry to your room and change into something without enough wrinkles to masquerade as bed sheets. I’ll send one of the girls up to help with your hair.”

  Daphne stared at her mother, her befuddled mind unable to accept the directions.

  Lady Scarborough glanced toward the longcase clock in the hallway. “We’re going to be delayed as it is and you’re making us later, Daphne. There is fashionably late and inconsiderate. I’m willing to drop you off as it’s on our way, but not if you take much longer.”

  Meeting her mother’s pointed look, Daphne gave up on any plans she could have hatched given enough time to think them through. She turned around and ran up the stairs, ignoring her mother’s exclamation.

  “How am I going to make this work?” she demanded of the air as she stripped off her dress and grabbed another from the wardrobe.

  “Make what work, my lady?” the maid asked, coming up behind Daphne without warning.

  Daphne jumped and dropped the dress into a crumpled pile on the floor.

  The maid’s lips pulled to one side as she stepped between Daphne and the wardrobe. “That’s not a good style for this late in the year anyway,” she said. “You go sit down, and I’ll choose something that suits you.”

  Following the instructions, Daphne remembered why she’d discouraged the maids from helping her. Even though the girl couldn’t be much older than Daphne herself, she treated Daphne like a child.

  Fighting the urge to sulk, Daphne pulled out the ribbon holding the hair back from her face as she crossed to her dressing table. Steady strokes from the brush calmed her enough to realize she’d have to hire her own hackney on Penelope’s street.

  “Here you go, miss. You’ll look right fine in this one.”

  Daphne stood and let the maid tug the dress over her, realizing too late that it had back laces. “I don’t like this one,” she said, her words panted against the sharp pulls.

  “No time, miss,” the maid said in a matter-of-fact voice. “Lady Scarborough didn’t seem in the best of moods. I wouldn’t delay longer than I had to. There. Now hand me that brush, and I’ll fix your hair.”

  Reluctantly, Daphne handed over the brush, recognizing the truth of the other girl’s statement.

  A few quick strokes and her hair took an elegant form that would be completely out of place where she truly went and p
robably even at Penelope’s house.

  “Good enough,” she said, standing up. “Tell Mother I’ll be right down.”

  “But miss…” the maid protested, a colorful ribbon in her hand.

  Daphne smiled what she hoped was a gentle smile and took the ribbon from the girl’s lax hand, waving toward the door. She waited a moment longer before the maid took her hint and left.

  She almost dropped the ribbon on the dressing table, but at the last minute, Daphne tucked it into her bag. She’d have to redo her hair into a simpler style if her plan would work. A quick glance in her dresser, and Daphne pulled out a plain shawl that her mother would be sure to question, but which might cover her dress enough to support her story. Another drawer offered up a small selection of coin to pay for her adventure.

  Finally prepared, she rushed back to the staircase, slowing only when she would become visible to those waiting below.

  Lady Scarborough bestowed a pained look on her youngest daughter. “Quite late, Daphne, but at least your sense of decorum has been restored along with your attire. Come along. There’s no time to waste.”

  Daphne relaxed when her shawl drew no more than a head shake.

  Willem gave her a regretful look as he ushered her into the carriage before her sister and mother. Daphne only had time to give him a faint smile before tucking into the far corner.

  “I know you like your independence, but you cannot be so inconsiderate. Willem and the carriage are not at your beck and call. When your father has the family coach, this is for all of us. Next time, have one of the maids wake you so you have enough time to prepare.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Daphne said, lowering her gaze to the bag twisted between her hands. “I’m sorry that I didn’t think of your needs as well.”

  “Mother, you must know it was just a mistake. After you took her about all morning, I should have thought to wake Daphne myself,” Grace offered, her soft voice soothing some of Daphne’s tension.

  Lady Scarborough tsked under her breath before heaving a sigh. “I know you don’t mean to harm others, but you really seem to live in your own world. I’d thought after such a trying morning, you’d give up your evening entertainment and so deliberately let you sleep in. It’s just with your sister’s nuptials approaching, it’s very important she doesn’t seem to take on airs. We may be of good blood, but I don’t have to tell you just how tenuous our position really is after that ship sank not two days out of port. We can’t afford to offend Lady Pendleton, not now, and she’s expected to attend, though her son is less likely to do so from what I understand. If we’re unfashionably late, how will that appear to your future mother-in-law?”