by Olga Daniels
Richard greeted Nancy in his customary friendly manner. “You see Lady Margaret is already starting to acquire social skills, as his lordship wishes,” he said.
“And pleased I am to see it, Richard.” Nancy smiled, but there was an edge to her voice as she added, “Just be sure you confine your instruction only to those achievements and nothing else!”
“I assure you, mistress, no other thought has ever entered my mind,” Richard answered easily. He deliberately changed the tone of the conversation by turning to Meg. “Nancy is one of the most accomplished women with the bow,” he said. “She is also more skilled in the hunt than many a man.”
Meg bobbed a curtsey. “I fear I have much to learn, Mistress Nancy,” she said. “For I have never taken part in either sport.”
“It’s not necessary for you to become expert; for that you have to be born to it, and even then it takes years of practice,” Nancy said. “Anyway ’tis not of the greatest importance. Come with me now, Meg. My dressmaker and her sewing maids are awaiting you in my chamber.”
“I was about to take Lady Margaret riding in the woods. It’s such a fine morning,” said Richard.
“Indeed it is, and I’m sure you’d enjoy that wholeheartedly, Richard,” Nancy said. “However, I fear you’ll have to take the exercise alone. There is a great deal of work to be done, and only a short time in which to have a whole new wardrobe cut and stitched and ready to wear.”
“A formidable task,” Richard agreed. “For how long will you require Lady Margaret?”
“A couple of hours, perhaps.”
“And after that she will be free to join me again?”
“Certainly.”
“I’ve arranged for the musicians to play for us,” he told Meg. “Then it will be my pleasure to instruct you in the dance. I am sure Mistress Nancy will agree that to dance well and gracefully is one of the most important accomplishments for a young lady of quality?”
“I cannot argue with that,” Nancy agreed. “She shall be returned to you when the dressmakers have finished.”
“Then for the moment, adieu.” Richard bowed.
Allowing Meg time for only a brief word of thanks to Richard for his tuition, Nancy hurried her into the castle.
“I’ve arranged for your maid to attend,” she said, hustling Meg up the winding stone stairs and into her private chamber.
The dressmaker, a middle-aged woman, was introduced as Mrs Goodley. She and her two assistants curtsied as Nancy and Meg entered.
The large room was sumptuous, dominated by a huge four-poster bed, made up with down-filled pillows and a damask quilt. The sides were hung with tapestries, now looped back, worked in shades of brown, gold and green threads. Similar rich tapestries decorated the high walls of the chamber. Sweet-smelling herbs and rushes were strewn on the floor. There were chests, chairs and a court-cupboard. The whole effect was of wealth and comfort. Bolts of taffeta, velvet, silk, satin and damask were lying on the bed.
Sarah assisted Meg to strip down to her kirtle while Nancy poured out a list of instructions regarding the garments that would be required. The women looked her over. They turned her this way and that, and discussed how she should be clothed as if she was deaf, blind and entirely without feeling.
“Good complexion,” said one.
“Neat figure,” commented another.
“Pale colours will complement that innocent look she has.”
“Good teeth—she should smile more.”
“Just what his lordship said last night!” commented Nancy.
They unrolled a purple silk and held it against her.
“Too harsh,” said Nancy.
Meg glanced at Sarah and raised her eyebrows. Sarah smiled and nodded. She seemed to understand exactly how her mistress was feeling, and indeed Meg was fuming. But, since there was nothing she could do or say to improve her position, she accepted their pushing and prodding in silence. They measured, and spoke of darts and pleats, trimming, frilling and cut-work, slashing and embroidery till Meg’s head was spinning. Their expertise was impressive, and she could not help but admire their skill, for they worked with the deftness of experts.
“It’s a beautiful shade of purple, my lady,” said Mistress Goodley.
“Not for Lady Margaret,” said Nancy. “It takes away some of her youth and innocence. Try the apple-green.”
“You were right! That is quite delightful!” Mistress Goodley clapped her hands together approvingly. “It’s not everyone who can wear green, but that colour is perfect for the young lady. It should be cut with a close-fitted bodice, worn over tight stays to lift the bosom. And a wide, square neckline—quite low.”
“A narrow frilling, decorated with tiny pearls,” suggested one of the sewing maids timidly.
“The skirt full, open at the front, revealing a decorative petticoat and a glimpse of ankle,” insisted Nancy.
“Certainly, mistress. Perhaps it should be gored from the waist, fitting neatly over the young lady’s hips rather than gathered. It’s the newest look—more alluring, I think.”
Meg was delighted with the beautiful materials that were held up to her. There were to be other garments too, and silken underwear such as she had never imagined even in her wildest dreams.
“Surely that is wasteful, for nobody will see it,” she said.
Her protest was greeted with a scream of delighted laughter from the dressmakers.
“You never know what may happen when we go to Court,” said Nancy, a statement that provoked more chuckles and brought hot colour to Meg’s face.
“To court?” Meg questioned. She was becoming more and more uneasy as the session continued. “Is it at Court that I shall meet the gentleman I am to marry?”
“Indeed that is so.”
“But will he want me, when I have no dowry?”
“It will be your duty to charm him. That is why you are being robed so elegantly and Sir Richard is teaching you so many accomplishments.”
“Mistress Nancy, I cannot understand why I am not to be told the name, or indeed anything of this gentleman,”
“You’ll find that out soon enough. Just do as you are told and don’t make a fuss.”
“But it would be so much easier for me if I knew—”
“Easier? What could be easier than having beautiful garments made for you? You should be grateful that his lordship is willing to spend so much money to make you look presentable.”
“But why is he doing all this for me? He has never done anything for me before, and he drove my poor mama—”
“I don’t know anything about that, nor do I wish to hear,” snapped Nancy. “Not another word.”
Meg sighed. She was becoming more and more alarmed at this secrecy. Despite Nancy’s assertion that she did not know about the terrible way Lord Thurton had treated her mama, Meg didn’t believe her. She could read in the other woman’s face that she knew, but was not prepared to admit it. Nancy was too young to have played any part in the cruel and evil event when the Earl drove Lady Elizabeth from Bixholm. She knew about it, but made it clear that she had closed her mind to it.
Nancy clapped her hands commandingly. “Come on, Mistress Goodley. Don’t stand there gawping. Get back to work on these gowns. And I don’t want any more interruptions from you, Meg.”
Again Meg was turned this way and that. The dressmakers took measurements. They discussed other garments that would be necessary. Riding clothes, capes with and without collars, stockings with garters tied just above the knee, and shoes of velvet, silk and leather.
Meg was dazzled by the speed at which the dressmakers made decisions, and amazed at the points of fashion which were discussed at length. She could scarcely believe the ease with which Nancy ordered gowns, even in the very expensive cloth of gold. What a different world this was from the nunnery, with its emphasis on poverty and chastity, and from the streets of Norwich, thronging with the poor and disadvantaged. The women talked of hooks and pins and cut-work, of gird
les and sashes, ribbons for her hair, purses and pomanders which would be ordered from the goldsmith. Despite her reservations she could not help a mounting excitement at the prospect of so many beautiful clothes being made just for her.
She began to wonder how she would look when all was finished. The image of Richard leapt into her mind. What would he think? Would he find her attractive in all this expensive finery?
It was a far cry from the way she had looked when he had first encountered her in the street. In that bespattered state, dressed in old rough clothes, she had seen a spark of interest in his dark, unfathomable eyes. She recalled that she had, quite shamefully, found the way he had looked at her then both exciting and threatening. However, his attitude since their formal introduction in the parlour of the Prioress had been different, distant. At times he seemed to be almost aloof, and yet surely he had not needed to touch her quite so intimately as he had that morning, when he’d guided her at archery! Always at the back of her mind were her uncle’s words, “He is not the one for you,” and loneliness squeezed her heart.
“Enough for today.” Nancy brought the session to an abrupt end. “Get on with making up as quickly as you can,” she instructed the dressmaker. “Take on as many sewing maidens as you require. We must have a really good wardrobe ready to wear within three weeks.” With that she swept out of the room.
Sarah assisted Meg to dress again, in the plain garments that were such a contrast to the magnificent materials that had been draped over and around her.
“Bossy woman, that!” commented Sarah when Nancy and the dressmakers had left. “Wouldn’t do to get on the wrong side of her. You’d best be careful, my lady.”
“I know, Sarah. I just wish I knew why they’re doing it.”
“I reckon they’re hopin’ you’ll marry some bigwig who’s got even more money than they have, an’ no doubt they expect to get their hands on some of it.”
“I expect you’re right,” Meg said, with a sigh. “And all I can do is wait and hope that my intended husband will be honourable and kindly.” Even as she said it the thought jumped into her mind that, whoever it was, it was unlikely she’d find him as attractive as Sir Richard.
“Whoever he is, he won’t be good enough for you,” Sarah said.
Meg gave her a hug. “Thank goodness I’ve got you!”
“I’m rather glad of that myself,” Sarah said. To Meg’s astonishment she blushed and hung her head. “Now turn around, do, and let me finish fastening this gown.”
“My next lesson is to be dancing,” Meg said.
“You’ll enjoy that, my lady,” said Sarah.
Meg was not so sure. Impulsively she said, “You must come with me, Sarah.”
She felt a need for the familiar loyalty of her maid. With so much happening, and for reasons she could not fully understand, she felt a desperate sense of unease.
Chapter Five
The musicians had assembled in a room of moderate size, situated close to the Great Hall. The sweet sounds of their lutes, virginals, flutes and tabors met Meg’s ears as she and Sarah approached.
A broad smile lit Sarah’s face. “Remember that tune?” she said. “The travelling musicians used to play it in the streets of Norwich at fair time.”
Meg smiled. “What fun we had!”
“Didn’t we just! Remember when we managed to escape from the nunnery?”
Dear Sarah, who so loved life and fun, yet had such a practical streak to her nature.
There was no time for further comment for they had reached the Music Room. Richard had been lolling on a settle, but leapt to his feet immediately they entered. He greeted Meg with a smile, warm and welcoming. If he was surprised to see her maid accompanying her, he gave no sign of it. Again she felt a sensation of pleasure which lifted her spirits. Even though their behaviour towards each other was strictly formal, just to be in his company brought happiness—although she assured herself it was simply relief at seeing a friendly face.
Sarah slipped away, quiet and self-effacing, to sit on a bench by the wall. Richard bowed and took Meg’s hand as the musicians continued to play. He led her towards them, his steps keeping time with the music. Side by side they moved forward, at a walking pace. Instinctively she fell into step with him and picked up the rhythm of the movement. With her hand cupped lightly in his, she followed his lead, forward and back. He turned her to face him, then released her hand.
“Set and turn single,” he said.
She watched him and mirrored the movement.
“Again,” he commanded. Then, “Up a double, and back.”
Next it was “siding”.
Even though she had not heard the call before, as he walked towards her she knew what to do, and passed by him, turned and swept back again. His head was held proudly high, his eyes fixed on hers, half shielded, and with that same expression that she had found so disturbing when she had first encountered him in the street. His body, too, had been part of the sensuality of the movement, almost touching hers before turning away.
“Arming.”
That too was simple to understand, for he swaggered towards her with his right elbow crooked and she slipped her arm into it. They turned, then repeated the movement with the left arm. Stepping back from her, he swept an elegant bow, then looked up, smiling, obviously delighted.
“After that you can’t pretend you haven’t danced before.”
“Only as a child, out in the street,” she told him shyly. “Just simple country dancing.”
That admission did not disturb him in the least. “You can dance, Meg!” His voice was enthusiastic.
“I’ve always enjoyed it,” she said. “The lovely melodies and crowds dancing in the streets and open places. Sarah couldn’t bear to stay within the walls of the priory when the fair was on.” She glanced over to where her maid was sitting, in the shadows at the back of the room. Their eyes met and Meg smiled.
“And you went out with her?” Richard prompted.
“I shouldn’t have done so, but it was such fun,” Meg admitted merrily. “Sarah knew most of the dances, and she taught me. We joined in, dancing up and down the street.”
“I wish I could have seen you.”
“I’m sure you’d have been horrified! We just galloped around together. We didn’t even try to be graceful, but we were so happy in those days! Sometimes we danced together in the garden, while the nuns were at prayer.”
“What about music?”
“Sarah knew the tunes, so we sang and hummed them together.”
“And the Prioress permitted this?”
Meg chuckled at the idea. “She didn’t know. She would have been shocked! But the younger nuns saw us and they just smiled; I believe they wished they could join in.”
“I’m sure they did. Correctly performed, the dance is both a pleasure and an art. You will see what I mean when I show you the steps of the galliard and, better still, the lavolta. It’s fast and energetic; I believe you’ll enjoy it.”
He led her towards the musicians and introduced her to their leader. As they talked he kept hold of her hand and gently stroked the back of it with his thumb. It was done without looking at her, in an absent-minded manner. The touch meant nothing, but it was pleasant and friendly. He consulted with the musicians and together they decided on the next tune.
“Listen to the music, Meg.” His enthusiasm was infectious. “The galliard is a running dance in triple time; it has phrases of five steps—like this.”
She watched as he demonstrated, leaping high, capering, deliberately showing off his agility and strength. She began to dance opposite him.
“You’re a natural dancer, Meg,” he encouraged her. “You’ve picked up the steps and movements, but there are one or two points that can be improved.”
The musicians launched into another melody. He took her hand, led her to the middle of the empty floor and they danced again.
“Don’t look down at your feet. Keep your eyes on me.”
&nbs
p; Obediently she looked up, and found herself spellbound by the nimbleness with which he was performing, leaping so high and kicking with great vigour. She was caught also by the sensuality that emanated from him, the same tension as had taken her unaware at their first meeting. She faltered and looked down. Instantly he admonished her.
“Look up, Meg. Head and body erect. Step it boldly. You must always appear self-possessed. Leave the complicated steps for your partner. The man’s part is to flaunt his agility. He will be inspired to even greater feats on the dance floor if his partner shows approval.”
Was he really serious? she wondered. He was teaching her the dance steps but he was flirting with her quite outrageously.
“Sir Richard,” she said, “I do not think you should be looking at me in that manner.”
“Ah, my lady, you must understand that flirting is all part of the dance. Look into my eyes. Relax, Meg, and smile. It is but part of the game of courtly love.”
“What do you mean by that? Surely love is not a game.”
“At Windsor it is, sweet lady. All the gentlemen play it. One does not need to mean anything by it, but it will be expected of you. Be warned, for the gentlemen will take dalliance as far as you are willing to allow them to go.”
He was a master at the game, using tender touches, kissing her fingers, and the palm of her hand. She remembered that her uncle had particularly instructed him to teach such things to her. It seemed strange that such behaviour was only a pastime, but, if that was so, perhaps there was no harm in it.
She stifled her doubts. It wasn’t that she found it difficult to smile, for she had a naturally happy disposition, and as she mastered one new step after another, gaining Richard’s approval, smiles came as naturally to her as breathing. She was surprised at how easily she talked with him, and he encouraged her, as if they were friends.
“The dance that is sweeping the Court at the moment is the lavolta. If you are not weary, would you like to learn that also?”
“I’m not the least bit tired.” She was enjoying herself too much for that.
“This dance originated in Provence,” he explained. “It’s in triple time, with turning movements.”