by Lynn Morris
“You may,” Mr. Chalmers said, and both boys took off.
Valeria called, “St. John, tell Trueman we’ll have tea in the glade by the weeping ash tree.” Her brother turned and gave a cheerful wave.
Chapter Three
AFTER A VERY PLEASANT TEA with Mr. Chalmers, St. John, and Niall, Valeria reluctantly returned to the house. Her conscience hurt her a bit for not being with her mother in the drawing room to entertain their guests; but she thought she had a good excuse for it, after the scene in the kitchen garden. It had taken her the last three hours to gain full control of her simmering anger with her stepfather and Lady Jex-Blake. Only now did she think she could face them with a semblance of equanimity.
As it happened, it wasn’t necessary for her to face them just yet. Only Mrs. Purefoy and Miss Shadwell were in the drawing room with her mother. Valeria joined them, and she didn’t ask where the others were. She didn’t really care. Her mother was doing her needlework, and Valeria attempted to read, but the twitterings of Mrs. Purefoy and Miss Shadwell distracted her. They were busily writing letters. The earl had his stationery specially printed on the highest-quality parchment, with the heading “Bellegarde Hall” in gold block lettering, and the Maledon coat of arms as a watermark. The sealing wax was the signature slate blue of the Maledon livery, and the seal, which was also the coat of arms, was large and ostentatious.
“Such fine parchment, I declare I have never seen such quality,” Miss Shadwell gushed. “I’m writing to my dear friend Miss Whicker, and you simply must allow me to read it to you, Lady Maledon, as I wish to convey my appreciation of your ladyship’s exquisite hospitality.” Then she proceeded to read: “‘Bellegarde Hall is quite grand, and the gardens are quite the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Lady Maledon is a quite wonderful hostess, so affable and welcoming…’”
Valeria tried to keep her expression neutral, but something of her weariness of the ladies’ fawning must have shown, because by the very slightest sidelong glance Regina signaled a warning to her. Quickly Valeria assumed a look of polite interest.
The men came in at six thirty, talking loudly and smelling of horses and spirits. After greeting the ladies, they settled down to drinking Madeira—and Lord Maledon his port wine—and talking politics. As ladies were considered too delicate to interest themselves in the rough-and-tumble world of governance, the women took no part in the conversation.
Valeria did now wonder where Lady Jex-Blake was. It wasn’t really unusual for guests to keep their own schedules, for Regina Maledon was a most obliging hostess. She took great pains to make all her guests feel comfortable, and made it clear that they were perfectly free to pass the time as they wished. The ultimate betrayal, Valeria thought bitterly. My mother is so careful to make our guests feel at home…how does a woman like that dare hold her head up and look my mother in the eye? How can my stepfather?
It was a vast relief to Valeria when the gong rang at seven o’clock, signaling them it was time to dress for dinner. They all went upstairs to their bedchambers.
Valeria’s beautiful bedroom was another gift from her stepfather. All the other bedrooms at Bellegarde Hall had dark walnut wainscoting, dreary wallpaper, and old oak full tester beds with heavy velvet hangings. Lord Maledon had allowed Valeria and Regina to redecorate Valeria’s bedroom in the French style. Regina had bought a full-size bed with headboard and footboard painted a cream color, with ornate carvings and a half tester canopy. The armoire, the dressing table, the chairs, and the side tables were all painted to match. For her linens and draperies Valeria chose a light green with pink trim. Regina had found a beautiful cream-colored damask wallpaper with a small green fleur-de-lis design. The carpet was the same soft ecru as the furnishings, with a green ivy design. The final touch, which delighted Valeria, was a recamier upholstered with the same green-and-pink damask as her bed hangings and comforter. Imported from France, it was almost as big as a bed, and luxuriously soft. As soon as she entered her bedroom, she threw herself onto it, laid her head back, and closed her eyes. She must, she must compose herself for the ordeal of dinner.
In just a few minutes Joan, the first housemaid, came to dress Valeria. She was the same age as Valeria, an attractive young woman, tall and strongly built, with handsome features and bright brown eyes. She was now wearing the evening livery of the maidservants, a dark-blue dress with a white lace-trimmed bib apron and cap. She was quite burdened down, for she carried a kettle of hot water, Valeria’s freshly ironed clothes, and Valeria’s watercolor box.
“My watercolors!” Valeria said, bounding up from the recamier to take it from Joan. “How wonderful, I thought my cakes must be leaching out completely in the…” Her voice trailed off and she said in a low voice, “Thank you, Joan. Did you retrieve it for me?”
“No, miss,” she answered. “Miss Platt went to the kitchen garden herself to get it for you.”
Valeria had to make a mental shift, as she always did, when she heard the servants refer to Craigie as “Miss Platt.” The servants had rules for titles that were quite as rigid as the nobility’s. Any lady’s maid was referred to by her last name by the family, while the servants always called her “Miss,” regardless of her marital status. The housekeeper and cook were always called “Mrs.” by both the family and the other servants, whether they were married or not. The family called the butler by his surname, while the servants called him “Mr. Trueman,” and the same rule applied to the valet. All the lower servants were called by their first names only.
Joan laid out Valeria’s clothes on the bed, then poured out her hot water. It steamed gently, and she added some lavender to the bowl, stirred it with a silver spoon she had placed in the washstand for the purpose, then added some tepid water from the pitcher to make it lukewarm, which was how Valeria liked it in summertime.
Valeria turned her back to Joan so Joan could undo her buttons. “Did Mary Louise get into trouble?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, miss,” Joan answered, her tone light and amused. “But then someone’s always in trouble with Mrs. Banyard, she couldn’t be happy unless she was grumbling.”
“It wasn’t over the basket, was it? Craigie returned the basket too, didn’t she?”
“Yes, miss. Mrs. Banyard did go on about that basket until Miss Platt came in with it. Then Mrs. Banyard started telling Mary Louise that she was getting above herself, telling you she had two names.” Joan imitated Mrs. Banyard’s cross voice: “‘And why would you be a-telling Miss that your name was Mary Louise?’ And poor little Mary Louise said, ‘’Cause of t’other girl, Mary Jane, Mrs. Banyard, so Miss Segrave wouldn’t confuse us.’” Again in Mrs. Banyard’s growl, “‘And why do you think Miss would care if we was all named Mary? Next time one of Them asks your name, you don’t be a-tellin’ what every servant on the place is called!’”
Both Joan and Valeria giggled. Now Valeria was undressed, and she went to wash with the refreshing spice-scented lavender water. “Poor Mary Louise,” she said. “She is not having a very good day.” Under her breath she said, “And she isn’t the only one.”
Joan gave her a compassionate look but said nothing. She went to Valeria’s dressing table and began to dry and cut the stems of the flowers in the bouquet that would go in Valeria’s hair.
When Valeria turned seventeen, she had officially “come out”; that is, she was no longer considered “in the schoolroom” and was able to join adult society. Now when there were guests at Bellegarde, she was able to have dinner with them. She also accompanied her mother when she made calls. But the most important sign was that she now wore her hair up, instead of down with the big girlish bows in the back. Her mother had also bought her a new wardrobe, of more mature styles. This meant that now Valeria needed more assistance to dress, and also to do her hair. Up until she came out, Craigie had helped her and had done her simple hairstyles. But a year ago Regina had directed that Joan attend Valeria.
At first Joan had been so proper and correct in her manner w
ith Valeria that she said nothing except to answer questions. But slowly, over the past year, she and Valeria had begun to form a relationship that was closer to friendship than that of mistress and servant. Valeria was glad; she found Joan intelligent and amusing.
She finished washing, toweled dry, and began the ordeal of dressing for a formal dinner. Joan held up her chemise, a plain white knee-length shift. Valeria stopped to look more closely at it. On the neckline and the hem was a very small border of eyelet-embroidered lace. “Joan, what lovely white work! You added this to my chemise? Did you work it?”
“Yes, miss. Miss Platt is teaching me white work and tambour. That’s my first attempt, I know it’s not fine enough to trim a dress, but I thought it would do nicely for a chemise, them being so plain and all.”
“I think it’s perfectly wonderful,” Valeria declared as she slipped the chemise over her head. “It looks quite as expert as does Craigie’s. The next time you must trim one of my petticoats. Or really, you should trim your own petticoat!”
“Thank you, miss,” Joan said with pleasure.
The fabric felt good against her skin. Commonly chemises were made of cotton, but Regina always ordered the finest of undergarments, so Valeria’s chemises were made of the softest linen. To her gratification, Joan always ironed her chemises, which was rather superfluous since they were never seen, of course. But Valeria had found that it gave her an extra degree of comfort.
Next came Valeria’s short stays, which were actually a very short corset that only came a couple of inches below her breasts. Valeria was grateful the style was for the high-waisted Empire dress, and women no longer had to wear long corsets that pinched in their waists. It took some shifting and pushing and pulling to get the tight stays right, but finally Joan laced them up firmly.
Over this went Valeria’s petticoat. Some petticoats were made of two pieces, a bodice and a skirt, but Valeria had one-piece shifts that were tied tight just under her breasts, following the line of her dresses. For evening dress her petticoats were not embellished at the hem, as they were for afternoon dresses, promenade dresses, and carriage dresses. When one was engaged in the activities for which such dresses were worn, it might be necessary to lift the skirt so as not to get it dirty or muddy, and it was considered acceptable to lift the outer dress only, exposing the hem of the petticoat. But for evening dress this wouldn’t be necessary, so her petticoat was plain linen.
Valeria sat at her dressing table, a fine long table with two drawers on each side and a triple mirror mounted on the top. Joan asked, “Now would you be wanting any jewelry or ribbons in your hair tonight, Miss Segrave?”
Valeria considered the dress laid out on her bed. Made of the finest cambric, so closely woven that it had a slightly glossy finish, it was high-waisted with a low-cut square neck and short puff sleeves. It was white, with a sky-blue stripe and a blue satin ribbon tied at the high waist. White Valenciennes lace trimmed the neckline, the sleeves, and the three flounces at the hem. It was a very pretty dress, but Valeria was always dissatisfied because young ladies were confined to pale pastels, and now, as it happened, white was the most popular color. Valeria’s only resort was to add some color in her accessories, and sometimes she was very daring in her choices, her own small rebellion. “I think, instead of the blue forget-me-nots, I’ll have some of those small orange rosebuds, and my coral jewelry,” she decided.
Joan retrieved Valeria’s jewelry chest from the armoire. She had a sizable collection of jewelry with which her mother had supplied her. After the French Revolution, in the spirit of republicanism it seemed, semiprecious stones had come into vogue, whereas before the nobility had worn only diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls. Valeria had no pieces of precious gemstones yet, though her mother had told her that when she went to London to be presented at court, Regina would see that she had some appropriate jewelry.
Joan’s eyes sparkled. Valeria’s accessorizing was always interesting and unique. She began taking down the tightly braided bun that Valeria wore during the day. “I think that would be lovely. And might I suggest that you wear the peach ribbon for a sash, and your peach-tinted slippers, instead of the blue?”
“Perfect!” Valeria said. “I shall be matched from head to toe.”
Expertly Joan began to arrange Valeria’s hair. After Valeria had worn a tightly braided bun all day, her hair had a deep wave, and Joan could make the most graceful loose chignon, right on the back of Valeria’s head. Fashionable hairstyles were based on the classical Greek and Roman styles. Valeria’s hair was so thick that the chignon precisely mirrored the extended bun on Greek statues. It was necessary for Joan to cleverly secure it with hairpins, but she had learned to do it so that they looked decorative instead of functional.
The prevailing fashion was for wispy tendrils of curls surrounding the face and the back of the neck. Most women added to this classical simplicity by having flat curls frame the face, or wearing long crisp ringlets in the back or over the shoulder. But Valeria disliked wearing the rag-curls at night to effect tight curls and ringlets. Joan had cleverly found a way to dress Valeria’s heavy hair: she had concocted a very light pomade, scented with meadowsweet. She would moisten her fingertips with water, barely touch the pomade, then take small baby-wisps of hair and rub them between her fingers, making them curl sweetly. It gave a softening halo effect to Valeria’s rather strong features.
Although Joan had become adept at arranging Valeria’s hair, it still took a long time. Thoughtfully Valeria asked, “Joan, are you going to be obliged to attend the ladies?”
Joan smiled mischievously. “No, miss, and that is due to her ladyship, and very grateful I am, too. Lady Jex-Blake, now she rang when she finally woke up yesterday morning—or afternoon—and demanded that Miss Platt attend her. Miss Platt did go to her then, but when it came time to dress for dinner Sophie went to her. Then Lady Jex-Blake goes sashaying out to find Mr. Trueman, and dressed him down, she did, for sending her the second housemaid.”
Valeria’s eyes lit up. “Oh, how I wish I could have witnessed that! How did Trueman bear up?”
“Oh, very well, as he always does. When she finished her little tantrum, Mr. Trueman informed her that Miss Platt’s duties took all of her time, and before Lady Jex-Blake could even start in on me, Mr. Trueman told her also that I was obliged to attend you, miss, and that her ladyship had directed that Sophie dress her, and Amelia and Laurie would do the other ladies.”
“My mother seems to be rather too kind and gentle at times,” Valeria said, “but she is very conscious of all of you, and takes your welfare seriously.”
“That she does, miss,” Joan agreed heartily. “That’s one reason why, since her ladyship came to Bellegarde, positions here are so much sought after. Neither her ladyship, nor you, miss, will ever lack for servants.”
“Really? Just lately—in fact, just today—I’ve started wondering about the servants,” Valeria said. “Do you get enough to eat?”
Joan looked incredulous. “Why, of course, miss! Whyever would you think such a thing?”
“It’s just that Mary Louise is so very thin.”
“Oh, yes, she’s a scullery maid and they work harder, and longer than anyone, except the hall boy. I started out as a scullery maid, and I was that scrawny, skin stretched over bones, until I made housemaid. But there again, at Bellegarde, if you do your work well and keep yourself neat and clean and mind your manners, you’ll likely rise in the household. That’s not always true of the great houses. Now, miss, these orange roses do look right nice with your coral pins. I’m thinking, though, that we could add some little bits of this white yarrow, and maybe even one or two of the forget-me-nots?”
“As always, Joan, you have better ideas than I of how to show me off,” Valeria said with a smile. “Why don’t you make it three of the forget-me-nots?”
* * *
Valeria was perfectly dressed and coiffed when she went down to join the others at ten minutes to ei
ght o’clock. The guests were gathered in the drawing room with her stepfather standing in the middle of the group, holding a cut glass tumbler full of port and talking loudly. “You should have seen Prinny’s production at the fête! It was magnificent, I must admit, even for him.”
Poor old King George III had finally gone irretrievably mad the previous year. Finally, after much political wrangling with the Whig-controlled Parliament, the Prince of Wales was named prince regent in February of 1811. With King George so very ill, the prince regent—indulgently called “Prinny”—could make no overt celebration of his rise to power, but he did decree that a grand party should be held June nineteenth, ostensibly in honor of the French royal family. Two thousand invitations were issued. Valeria wasn’t surprised that her stepfather had been invited to the fête, for he was considered part of “Prinny’s set.” Certainly Lady Maledon would have been invited too, and Lord Maledon should have taken her with him, even if he didn’t want her and Valeria in London. He hadn’t, though, and Valeria was irritated that he’d talk about it now in front of them. She glanced at her mother, but her face was set in a polite smile.
Maledon went on, “Two thousand people, what a crush! The dining tables set up in the conservatory were two hundred feet long. At the prince’s table were seated two hundred, and of all things, it had a fountain at the head of it, a stream flowing down it, with green moss and water-flowers, and it had fish swimming in it!”
Lady Jex-Blake, her dark eyes glittering, asked, “And so you were seated at the prince’s table?”
“I was,” he said loftily. “And a fine dinner it was too. Everything was served on silver, even the soup bowls. Never seen anything like it. Perhaps I might stock up on silver plates and bowls and mimic it.”
Miss Shadwell trilled, “Oh, and the fountain and stream and fish too, my lord? Surely you must have that! Such grandeur, such exquisiteness!”