Cinders & Sapphires (At Somerton)

by Rasheed, Leila

  Georgiana shrugged with some defiance.

  “You simply have to get to know him….”

  “Well, from what his mother says, there’s no school left that will have him, so you may get your wish.”

  “Oh yes, I know it looks bad to be expelled, but it sounds like Rugby was so stuffy and boring. I can’t believe they made all that fuss about a mere fire. It didn’t even spread. And it was a dare, after all. Of course he had to do it if it was a dare.” She craned to see through the crowd. There was a look on her face, and her lips were parted in a way that frightened Ada. She saw something in the look that she had felt herself—and what kind of example was she to her younger sister?

  “Georgie, please don’t make a fool of yourself over that boy.” The words were out before Ada had thought them through. As soon as she saw the hurt on Georgiana’s face, she wished them unsaid.

  “I don’t see why you have to be so cruel. I might not be making a fool of myself. People can love people even if they’re not beautiful.”

  Then she was gone, threading through the crowd. Ada started after her, but the Duke of Brentford blocked her way, offering her congratulations on her new family.

  “Delighted to see so many here,” he went on, surveying the room.

  Ada nodded and smiled. The meaning of his words hit her only after he had walked away, and Lady Fairfax had replaced him. She was less tactful.

  “I was so sorry to hear of your father’s trouble,” she said, her eyes flashing with eagerness for gossip. “But it doesn’t seem to have affected the attendance, does it?”

  Of course, Ada realized. Half the conversations in the room were likely revolving around her father’s resignation.

  “He has done nothing to be ashamed of,” she said firmly.

  “Certainly not! But it is dreadful, isn’t it, how rumors spread? We heard he had simply gone native, assisted the rebels in Bengal…?” She trailed off hopefully, but Ada was not prepared to give anything away.

  “I must find my sister,” she said, excusing herself.

  But as she made her way through the crowd, only half her mind was on Georgiana. The rest was given to listening to the conversations around her. The words shocking and shameful and resignation buzzed around her like mosquitoes. And a number of people fell hastily silent as she passed by.

  Ada held her head high and continued across the room. She had nothing to be ashamed of and she would not let them make her blush—and then she saw William, part of a group of men that included Ravi and Douglas Varley. He was talking loudly, red-faced, gesturing with his glass of sherry so the liquid spilled out.

  “I know the old fox has been up to something,” he went on. “And then he comes here to moralize at me. Well, we’ll see about that.”

  Ada closed her eyes in horrified embarrassment. The expression of contempt on Ravi’s face burned into her mind. What a fool William was! Couldn’t he see he was exposing not only her father but himself? She opened them again just as Douglas Varley cleared his throat and interrupted William.

  “I think Lord Westlake has been badly misrepresented,” he said.

  A rush of gratitude overwhelmed Ada, and she smiled at Varley as he looked up and caught her eye. She wanted to go up and join the conversation, but at the next moment the dressing gong sounded.

  Ada ran up the stairs, her dress flying around her like a cloud, and out of breath, put her back against the door and ripped off her gloves. She unfolded the note and read it as it trembled before her eyes.

  I have to see you. I looked for you everywhere on the Moldavia. I don’t wish to embarrass you but I must see you.

  And then, in a passionate, almost angry scrawl—

  Nothing in my life has meant more to me than that evening.

  R.S.

  She read the note over and over again before it sank in. She pressed it to her chest. He didn’t despise her. It was quite the opposite. A smile spread over her face. The note clasped in her two hands, she moved across the room. “‘Nothing in my life has meant more to me than that evening.’” She whispered the words to herself, gazing into her mirror. He wanted to see her…and her smile faded. But it was impossible.

  It had been unforgiveable of her to let herself go so far with a stranger, a foreigner no less. Meeting him again would only compound the offense. What could they say to each other, anyway? This was not the Moldavia; this was Somerton, the heart of respectability, of her family. His patron had proposed to her. If they were caught meeting clandestinely it would be catastrophic for them both. The proper thing to do was to burn the note and pretend it had never existed.

  The fire crackled behind its guard. Ada folded and refolded the note in her hands. She gazed into the mirror but she didn’t see her own reflection, her intense dark eyes or the heightened color in her cheeks.

  She ought not to meet him. But wasn’t it her duty to explain to him exactly how impossible things were? Somerton was a big house; no one could watch every corner of it all the time. It might be possible, but she would need help. But who would help her? Georgiana could not know, she could never drag her sister into something this shameful. Charlotte Templeton—everything about her revolted from the idea of Charlotte knowing her secrets. She did not even consider her stepmother. But she had to decide soon. Rose would be here in a moment to help her dress, and… She hesitated.

  Rose. A lot had changed since they had been little girls playing in the gardens, but perhaps she could trust her. But that meant telling her—telling her what was going on. Ada felt sick with fear at the thought.

  It was a huge risk. Did she dare to take it?

  There was a knock at the door. Ada started. But of course, it was time to dress for dinner.

  She folded the note from Ravi in her fingers, but instead of putting it on the fire, she slid it into her jewel case.

  “Come in,” she called, her voice trembling.

  Rose paused to catch her breath and smooth her hair before pushing open Lady Ada’s door. The evening light was flooding in through the sash window, and for a moment she thought that one of the pink-and-gold clouds had come in through the window and was lying across the chair. Then her eyes grew used to the light and she saw it was Lady Ada’s evening dress.

  Lady Ada herself stood before the long mirror, twisting her sash over and over in her hands. The silk tightened and pulled between her slim fingers, but she didn’t seem to notice it.

  Wordlessly, Rose began undressing her. Her heart thumped with nervousness. This was the first time she had dressed a lady in an evening gown, and she was afraid in case she did it wrong. But Lady Ada didn’t seem to be paying much attention, and that relaxed her. She deftly unlaced the corset strings and settled the petticoat correctly around Lady Ada’s waist and hips. She smoothed the fabric down, kneeling to arrange it correctly, and looked up to see her reaction. But the question “Are you comfortable, my lady?” died on her lips as she caught Lady Ada’s eye. It was filled with pleading.

  Rose dropped her gaze instinctively and went on smoothing the petticoat. Her hands trembled slightly. She did not know what to say. Lady Ada’s expression had been so desperate. As if Rose—of all people—were her last hope.

  I must act as if I haven’t noticed anything, she thought. It would be an unpardonable liberty to ask her what the matter was. Servants did not comment on what ladies and gentlemen felt or said. They developed eyes, ears, and speech only when instructed to do so.

  But Lady Ada was different from the other ladies and gentlemen. They’d been friends once, long ago.

  She looked up. Lady Ada’s lips were pressed hard together as if she were trying not to cry.

  Rose dropped the hem of the petticoat, stood up quickly, and placed a hand on Lady Ada’s shoulder. She found herself saying, “My lady, can I—can I help?”

  Ada visibly swallowed and Rose could see her forcing herself to breathe calmly. Whatever Lady Ada was about to say, it was important.

  Ada blushed and could not m
eet Rose’s gaze as she said, “If I were to—” she began. “If we were—If I needed to meet someone, Rose, and no one was to know, and he was in this house, and…”

  “He?” It escaped before Rose could stop it. Lady Ada wanted to meet a man?

  The startled expression on Ada’s face made Rose realize that she had never before interrupted a lady. It was a terrible breach of etiquette. But Lady Ada did not seem to take offense, instead she pressed on. “I wondered if you could tell me, how I could meet Mr. Sundaresan—privately?” Ada’s voice curled up at the end of the sentence.

  Rose was speechless for a second.

  Oh dear, she realized. Lady Ada was in love—and with, of all people, that Indian gentleman. She could not help feeling sorry for her. It was so clearly impossible and improper.

  “You see, I—we—” Lady Ada stumbled.

  Rose realized that her mistress was about to blurt out her feelings. Instinct told her that, for her own sake, she could not be allowed to do that. If she did, she would regret forever that she had allowed her maid to know her vulnerability, and the consciousness of it would come between them. No, they would have to play charades.

  Rose darted behind Lady Ada’s back, to hide the shock on her face, and began lacing up the corset. Lady Ada, the back of her neck still pink with blushes, began to speak again, and Rose quickly jerked the strings of the corset. Lady Ada gasped.

  “Oh—sorry, my lady—if you’ll just breathe in now.” Rose pulled the whalebone tighter, the laces biting into her fingers. Her mind worked rapidly. All she needed to do was prattle on, as Martha did. How hard could it be? If Lady Ada had any sense she would play along.

  “I do the gentlemen’s rooms.” She wished her voice didn’t sound so shrill. She went on, sewing the laces in and out of the eyelets: “I’m in and out of there all day. If anything were to slip out of my pocket, I’m sure someone would—would find it.” Was that too obvious? she wondered.

  There was a brief pause. When Lady Ada spoke again, she was slightly breathless from the pressure of the corset, but she had grasped the game perfectly. “Yes, of course.”

  “I daresay I’ll be popping into the rooms during dinner, to just…tidy some things up.” I’m sure I’ll think of something to tidy, Rose thought. Gentlemen are always needing buttons sewn on and suchlike. She tied the strings in a double bow and stepped back. Lady Ada’s silhouette was perfect.

  Ada’s eyes went to the scented notepaper on the dressing table. Rose turned away, and as she busied herself over arranging the dress, she heard the rustle of petticoats and the scratch of a pen.

  “I’m ready for my dress now, Rose,” she heard Lady Ada say.

  “Yes, miss.” Rose turned around. Lady Ada stood, the silk sash clenched between her hands, her eyes wide and nervous. “Allow me, my lady. You’ll tear it,” Rose said gently. She reached out and took the sash from Lady Ada’s hands and felt the note folded behind it.

  She turned away and slid the note into her pocket. Then she lifted the silky weight of the gown and stepped onto the footstool. For a moment it felt as if she were holding the sky above Lady Ada’s head.

  “Please raise your hands, my lady,” she commanded.

  Lady Ada raised her hands and Rose slipped the gown over her head. Lady Ada vanished, and then emerged like a magician’s trick, her cheeks flushed. The dusky pink and dull gold silk fell obediently into place over the frame of the petticoat and corset, and under Rose’s hands sorted itself into curves as elegant as those of a wildflower. Rose buttoned up the back.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Lady Ada. She sounded startled.

  Rose smiled and knelt to straighten the hem. As soon as she was kneeling, her smile disappeared. You’re a fool, Rose Cliffe, she thought. If Lord Westlake found out, she would get the sack, and so would her mother, perhaps, and there would be no reference to find another place. But what could she do? Lady Ada was distraught, anyone could see that. You would need a heart of stone not to help her if you could.

  She straightened and watched Lady Ada nervously adjusting her dress before the mirror, and as she did so, another thought, unwelcome as a worm in an apple, crept into her mind. Stella’s proudly tilted chin, her cold voice as she said, You never know what you’ll do until you have to.

  She wished Stella had never said anything. Of course she would never use Lady Ada’s secrets against her. But she did not even want the possibility of doing so.

  She turned away, wanting to distract herself, and spotted a rose in the vase on the dressing table, white as the evening star. She plucked it and placed it against Lady Ada’s hair and looked in the mirror to judge the effect.

  Why, we’re the same height, she thought with a sudden, uneasy shock. For a second she wondered what the rose would look like in her own dark hair. She quickly looked away from the mirror and concentrated on positioning the flower and securing it with hairpins.

  “There,” she said, standing back. “Perfect.”

  Lady Ada turned this way and that in front of the mirror, smiling as the silk swished across the floor.

  She backed away softly to the door. As her hand closed on the handle, she heard Lady Ada say softly, “Rose…thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, my lady,” she replied without looking around.

  Rose sat mending Lady Ada’s stockings in her mother’s parlor. Opposite her, Stella was working at the same task for Miss Charlotte. Rose was on edge, listening to the frantic noise echoing down the corridor as the kitchen staff hurried around to serve dinner. It seemed unnatural not to get up and help, but she knew that was no longer her position. They were managing perfectly well without her, she thought rather sadly.

  Besides, she had a more important errand. She placed the stockings to one side and stood up.

  “Where are you off to, Rose?” Stella looked up as she went to the door.

  Rose turned back reluctantly. Stella watched her like a snake, and it was hard to lie to her face.

  “Mr. Sundaresan asked me to starch some collars for tomorrow for him.”

  Stella raised her eyebrows. “As if we didn’t have enough work to do. Doesn’t he have a valet?”

  “I don’t mind,” Rose said, perhaps too quickly.

  “Well, you’re very obliging,” Stella said, with meaning, at last releasing her gaze. Rose hurried to the door and went up the stairs, trying her best to keep out of the way of the footmen and Annie, who were ferrying the second course up to the dining room. She pushed open the door to the second floor and froze as she heard voices. It was Lord Westlake and Sebastian Templeton.

  Rose waited, knowing that she couldn’t go out into the hall in front of His Lordship.

  “I say, sir, may I have a word with you in the library, later? About that little matter I mentioned.” Sebastian sounded anxious.

  “You may, Sebastian.” Lord Westlake straightened his cuffs as he strode on. “But I’m not happy about it, I warn you. It may be your mother’s money, but that doesn’t mean you can waste it. You will have whatever is settled on you when you are twenty-five, those are the terms of your father’s will.”

  Rose drew back as they passed her. A whiff of cologne reached her, and she saw Sebastian Templeton’s face up close through the crack of the door. His expression startled her. A few moments ago he had been laughing loudly, debonair and devil-may-care, among the guests. But now he looked almost desperate.

  “I promise you, sir. It’s sure of a good return. It just needs a little time to get going, that’s all.”

  They disappeared down the passage, their voices fading. Rose slipped out of the door and hurried on, clutching the note. She was not going to let Mr. Sebastian Templeton’s money worries bother her. She had enough to think about with one person’s secret in her charge. She went into Mr. Sundaresan’s room, made a show of tidying the fire, placed the note in a marble bowl with his cuff links, and left before she could have second thoughts.

  As the ladies went from the dining room into the draw
ing room, Ada placed a hand on Georgiana’s arm. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean it harshly. Let’s not quarrel.”

  “Oh, Ada, I could never quarrel with you,” Georgiana said instantly, covering her sister’s hand with her own. She sighed. “I expect you’re right, though, and I am making a fool of myself. He’s just so handsome.”

  Ada tactfully did not reply. Instead she looked across the drawing room, searching for Lady Westlake. She was dying to get out into the garden and see if Ravi had received her note. If he wasn’t there…but she did not want to think about that.

  She stood up and made her way through the occasional tables toward Lady Westlake. Augustus had been brought down from the nursery and Lady Edith was parading him before the ladies, while Priya, the Indian nursemaid, stood by, obviously waiting for him to get overexcited and need whisking away. Ada thought she was very beautiful, with her glossy, thick black hair, dark skin, and large, full-lashed eyes. As she drew near to the ladies she heard them questioning Priya.

  “What a curiosity! What is your name, dear?” Lady Blandford demanded, raising her lorgnette to examine the girl.

  “Priya, madam.” Priya kept her eyes modestly cast down.

  “Goodness!” Lady Blandford’s eyes widened.

  “Quite unpronounceable,” Lady Fairfax agreed.

  “Of course I call her Prudence,” Lady Edith announced. “She does have the most extraordinary power over Gussie. But then Indians are a very mystical people, you know.”

  The ladies exclaimed. One eagerly demanded, “But how do you do it? Is it some word of power?”

  Priya hesitated. “It is, my lady.”

  There were gasps all around.

  “How terribly thrilling! Can you let us into the secret? What is the word?”

  “Oh, do tell us what it is!” echoed Lady Edith.

  “It is no, my lady,” said Priya.

  Ada stifled a smile as she bent to speak in Lady Westlake’s ear.

  “I have a headache. I’d like to lie down for a little, if you’ll excuse me,” she said.