Rags to Romance
Page 6
The dowager snorted. “Improving oneself yes, but attempting to be something you are not is pathetic and everyone is polite society will see through your ridiculous ruse.”
The words stung Finny’s pride. Was the dowager right? Would other rich people see through her? Would they all treat her as horribly as the dowager did? Maybe she was better off in the hells of Whitechapel….
The parlor door opened and Lady Swanson breezed in. “Good day, Adele, Finny. I have a few appointments this afternoon and wondered if Finny should like to come along. She must be getting terribly bored cooped up in the house this last month.”
“If you want to be seen in public with the girl, then by all means take her with you, Lord knows I could use the break from her rattling tongue,” the dowager snipped.
Lady Swanson’s lips formed a thin line of disapproval. “I am sure it is poor Finny who needs a break from your scathing tongue, Adele.”
The dowager’s eyes widened. “Of all the gall, insulting me in my own home? Why it seems this coarse girl’s lack of manners has worn off on you, Katherine. I have half a mind to tell your husband when he returns just how rude you are becoming.”
“First of all, dear stepmother, this is Devon’s home, not yours, and second of all, my dear husband would surely say it is about time someone around here dished your venomous bite back at you.” With an upright tilt of her nose she headed for the door. “Come along, Finny.”
One look at the dowager’s thunderous expression and Finny didn’t need to be asked twice. With less grace than she entered the room she exited and hurried after Lady Swanson. She caught up to her mentor on the stairs. “You sure tol’ her, Lady Swanson.”
Lady Swanson’s stiff expression softened. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?”
“Oh, to be sure.” Finny giggled. “I ain’t seen eyes that big since Willy Benjamin swallowed a frog’s egg and his mama tol’ him tadpoles would grow in his belly.”
A delicate tinkle of laughter bubbled from Lady Swanson. “I can believe that, Finny.”
Once in Finny’s room she selected a soft royal blue velvet walking dress from the wardrobe. “Here, change into this, Finny, and we shall be on our way.”
Finny took the dress and set it on the bed. “I want to wear the pretty pink one with all the shiny silver beads on it.”
“You cannot wear a ball gown shopping.”
“Why not?” Finny pouted. “’Tis my dress ain’t—isn’t it?”
“Of course it is, Finny, but it is only for wearing to a fancy party.”
“Like the ones the funny little man is teachin’ me to dance for?”
Lady Swanson nodded. “Yes, like the ones the dancing instructor is teaching you to dance for.”
Turning around, Finny allowed Lady Swanson to undo the tiny buttons down the back of her pale yellow morning dress. “When am I going to get to go to one of those?”
“Well, you should wait until my brother returns from his voyage. It is only proper he escort his new bride, but, since he is going to be gone for a few months yet I suppose it might be all right if you were to go with me to one.”
“Tonight?” Finny asked, trembling with excitement.
“No, not tonight, but perhaps you might come with me and my husband to a gathering at Lady Rattan’s later this month. She is throwing a small get-together to introduce her young niece into polite society. I hear the girl is quite shy and it is to be her first ball.”
“Good, I’ll go then.”
Laying a gentle hand on Finny’s shoulder, Lady Swanson smiled. “I shall have to ask my husband to go and to see if he can have you included on the guest list first.”
“Oh.” Finny grinned. Lady Swanson hadn’t said no. She shed the morning dress and threw the walking dress over her head. “So, where we going today?”
“We are going to the milliner’s to order a new hat and then I have an appointment with Doctor Becker.”
A pang of fear made Finny look up from buckling her half boots. “You dying?”
“No, I am not dying. I am only going for a checkup.”
Finny puzzled the idea of spending precious coins just to have a doctor look at you for no reason. “Seems like a silly thing to do, if ye ask me.”
Lady Swanson fixed the collar on Finny’s dress and then handed her a shawl. “Why? Have you never seen a doctor before?”
“Uh uh. I’m not sick.”
“Well, then I shall see if Doctor Becker has time to see you as well.”
Finny shook her head. “Ain’t no one gonna see me. Nuh-uh. Pa says it’s a sin for a man who ain’t—isn’t—my husband to see me naked.”
“I assure you it is perfectly acceptable for a doctor to see you, Finny. He will not require you to remove your clothing unless there is something terribly wrong anyway.”
Eyes wide she stared at the lady. “What if there’s somethin’ terrible wrong with me then?”
“Oh, Finny,” Lady Swanson laughed. “I am sure there is nothing at all wrong with you. Come along now.”
Wanting to believe that, yet not entirely sure, Finny followed her out the door, downstairs and out to the waiting carriage.
* * *
Finny slouched against the cushions and stared out the window as they pulled away from the doctor’s office. She had to admit it wasn’t as horrible experience as she thought it might be. After asking her a few questions, the gray-haired doctor listened to her heart, her breathing, checked her pulse and looked in her mouth and ears. He pronounced her fit and healthy enough to bear the earl an heir. She glanced at Lady Swanson, who looked like a cat who swallowed a big fat canary. “Did the doctor tell you you are fit to bear your earl an heir too?”
A deep red flushed Lady Swanson’s cheeks. “No.”
A broad grin showed a set of the whitest teeth Finny had ever seen. It was the first time Finny could recall Lady Swanson so happy. “He must have tol’ you something.”
“Can you keep a secret, Finny?”
“Yup, I never tol’ ol’ Frankie down on Apple Row that his cousin Teresa did it with his best friend behind the butcher shop.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops, guess I just told.”
“Well, you did not tell Frankie, so I suppose I can trust you with my secret until Saturday.” She lowered her voice. “The doctor told me I am with child.”
Finny gasped. “Is your husband gonna be mad?”
“Why would he be angry, dear?”
Finny whispered. “Is it his?”
Lady Swanson’s jaw dropped. “Of course, of course it is his child, Finny. Good Lord, why ever would you think it is not?”
“If it’s his then why are you keepin’ it a secret?”
“Oh, Finny.” She giggled. “I just do not want him to hear it from anyone else. He will not be home from his trip until Saturday and you know how gossip spreads like fire in London.”
Finny was sure she didn’t, but she was glad to know the baby was Lady Swanson’s husband’s. “Oh.”
Lady Swanson smothered another giggle behind her fan before they pulled up in front of Devon’s townhouse. “I have an idea, Finny. How about you come and stay with me for a while? I could use the company as the house is so big and empty without my husband home. It would give me more time to help you perfect your social skills before the ball.”
“I’d like that, Lady Swanson.” Finny grinned.
“Please, call me Kat since we are becoming such good friends.” Lady Swanson called to the driver. “Bernard, we are going to my home instead. Would you mind returning later for Lady Dowell’s things?”
Leaning back in the seat Finny smiled. Friends. She never had a friend before and it felt good. Real good. As good as the feeling of being called Lady Dowell. Oh yes, Finny Donelly was moving up in the world. Real fast.
Chapter Ten
The winter snows meant being cooped up in Lady Swanson’s cozy mansion on Hyde Hill not far from the London shopping district. Though most of the elite in society elec
ted to spend the frigid months in the country, Lord Swanson’s many business ventures kept him in the city, and so Kat had decided to stay as well. Finny and Kat filled their days with shopping, at-home teas and card games with a few of the elder ladies who also stayed behind in the city. Each day brought the excitement of a possible letter from Lord Dowell which Finny looked forward to, despite the fact each missive was few and far between. Still ever diligent, she wrote to him each week.
November 14, 1858
Dear Lord Dowell,
I hope you are safe and warm wherever you are. Lady Swanson has been exposing me to many new things. Some of them I like. Some of them I hate. Take this cavi-arie stuff. I’m told it is French. Since dress fashion comes from there you’d think it would be good. It tastes terrible! So bad that I spit it back on my plate the first time I tried it. Kat scolded me. I still can’t understand why someone would eat fish eggs. Now I just scrape off the awful things and eat the biscuit under it. I do like those little hor-dervers things though. Very tasty little bites, too bad they weren’t bigger. I must go, Kat is wanting to go buy a new hat.
Yours, waiting with excitement for your reply,
Lady Josephine May Donelly
December 1, 1858
Dear Lord Dowell,
I hope you aren’t too lonely by yourself there in heathen lands at Yule time. Kat and I have been busy decorating the house for the festive time. You should see it. We got lots of holly and red ribbon wrapped around the banisters, doors and fireplace mantles. It smells nice. Kat thought it would be nice if I made you a Christmas gift. You’ll find a package of handkerchiefs with your initials on them. I hope you like them. They’re blue. Kat says blue is your favorite color. Today we are going to the museum to see some dead guy in a gold box. He’s some king or something from a place called Egypt. I hope he doesn’t smell too bad. Are there coffins of dead guys where you are? I hope not.
Yours, Lady Josephine May Donelly
December 13th, 1858
Dear Lord Dowell,
I hope you got the rest of my letters. I haven’t got any from you in a long time. Kat says mail often gets lost at sea or just takes a long time to get to you. You know how I said ladies didn’t do nothing entertaining? Well, it seems they play cards. Not the kind of games men like, like Whist and Faro but a game called Bridge. It seems strange to name a game after something you use to cross a river huh? Anyway, I played bridge yesterday with Kat, Lady Chambers and another lady whose name I don’t remember. They were nice. I won most of the hands. I don’t think the other ladies were very happy about that but they didn’t accuse me of cheating. I wouldn’t cheat no how. Anyway, it was nice even though they don’t bet coins on each hand. Maybe when you get back we can play a few games. I’ll even let you win. Where are you now? I like to keep track and trace your trip on the map in your study. It makes me feel like you aren’t so far away. It is almost time for tea and your stepmother gets annoyed when I’m late.
Yours always,
Lady Josephine May Donelly
January 23, 1859.
Dear Lady Dowell,
I hope my letter finds you well and in good cheer. I thank you for your many letters and the lovely silk handkerchiefs. I am cheered by their arrival and find myself very much amused by your thoughts on everyday things. You have a very refreshing way of looking at the world. I too often wonder why we eat some of the things we do. On my travels I stop in many ports and get to see how other countries eat. Trust me, I think you would much prefer fish eggs to some of the things they eat here. I am sorry to have missed the holidays and all the wonderful smells like holly and candied fruit that go along with it. How did you like the Egyptian exhibit? I trust the deceased Pharaoh didn’t smell too offensive. There is some rough weather approaching so I must hurry to reach the next port before it hits.
Awaiting your next letters,
Lord Devon Dowell
February 29, 1859
Dear Lord Dowell,
I am glad my letters arrived and you liked your Christmas present. Lady Swanson and I have been reading the newspaper together. I don’t understand much in the political section but I do enjoy the gossip page. I find the comings and goings of all the lords and ladies quite fascinating. Did you know someone named Lord Whimsy got run over by his own horse and four? The paper said he was foxed at the time. Terrible! Your stepmother caught us reading the political section once and was appalled. Apparently ladies don’t read newspapers. Only fashion catalogues and design books are suitable reading. She did say some ladies like those gothic romances. She called them rubbish. They must be good if she hates them. Kat and I are going to go to the bookshop today and look for some. I must go now before it snows again and the walks are clear.
Yours always,
Lady Josephine May Donelly
May 11, 1859
Dearest Lady Donelly,
I am glad to hear you are well. Once again you have made me laugh out loud. I fear my crew is starting to think I am slightly noddy, for your sweet letters leave me in stitches. I do have to agree with my stepmother that politics are not suitable reading for a nice young lady such as yourself. However you might find the works of Byron much to your liking. I myself am a devoted fan of his writings. I find myself reading each night and thinking of you and wishing I had met you years earlier if only to save myself the drudgery of endless mindless chatter of many debutantes over the years. The days seem to pass too slowly these last few months and I am most eager to return and speak with you on many things in person.
Until we meet on land, yours with bated breath,
Lord Dowell
Chapter Eleven
London, England, May 13th 1860
Devon clutched the bundle of letters and rubbed a hand across his salt-crusted eyes as the captain gave orders to prepare to dock. Home at last. The English coastline shimmered in greenish hues, a welcome sight to his eyes. A year was a long time to be away from his homeland; however a hold full of silks and spices would set him up financially for years to come. There was more than enough to return Candlewick to its state of former glory. Once he was independently wealthy, his stepmother would no longer be able to meddle in his affairs. His affairs…. He had almost forgotten the little baggage he left behind. What happened to Finny Donelly? Most likely his stepmother had found a way to annul the marriage; after all, it had not even been consummated. He hoped she had at the very least seen Finny with a means to support herself, if not a small amount to aid her survival. A fond grin rode his lips. Probably not, but his beloved sister Katherine would have.
His mind wandered to the elusive Lady Dowell. She sent him dozens of letters over the last year, and little by little he warmed to her humor and wit as she described each mundane event of her days with a fresh view. Before he knew it he found himself opening to her and responding to her letters with genuine enthusiasm. She was quite unlike any woman he had ever met. Her words seemed uncensored and even naïve sometimes, something he found both intriguing and refreshing. It seemed his dream woman had been found, and quite by accident, ironically.
He turned his attention to the sailors scurrying around him preparing to dock at the wharf ahead. His crew would be glad to be home as well. Each one would be well rewarded, as the trip had been an especially profitable one. They would go home to their families financially secure for the winter, of that he would make sure. He wanted his men loyal and awaiting another trip next spring, and the best way to do that was to see they had no need to sail with another merchant.
The ship drifted to the dock, bumping alongside as shore-men hurried to secure it. Smiles broke out among his crew as they prepared to disembark. He wished he shared their sentiment. Unfortunately, business dictated he spend a few days in London before he could return to Candlewick. He was eager to see the progress the workmen had made in the estate’s reconstruction. His thoughts wandered to the crates in the hold filled with fine furnishings, tapestries, carpets and curios. Candlewick was going to be the talk of
England by the time he was done with it. A tour of the Orient exposed him to many inventions and finery London had yet to experience. Why, the sunken bathing tubs alone he planned to build were reminiscent of Bath, Rome, and Egypt’s Cyprian civilizations.
Devon stayed aboard until all but the captain and a few armed watchmen disembarked before he strolled down the deck and summoned a hackney. Tomorrow would be time enough to unload the hold. For now all would be safe under the watchful eyes of the watchmen. It was wise to let his crew have a night of rivalry with their friends and family before making them unload the treasures. Although, after being away for a year, he might have to reconsider a mere night off, he mused, as a group of young sailors trooped by, mugs of ale and a couple buxom street girls in their embraces.
Heaving a sigh, he climbed aboard the hackney and gave the driver the address of his stepmother’s townhouse. One could only hope he would be welcomed after the way things were left on their last encounter. His gaze drifted out the window. London had changed little, though it certainly had grown. It was easy to spy the new buildings here and there squeezed between the older architecture of years gone by. Yes, it was good to be back.
Before long the hackney drew up before the three-story townhouse that used to belong to his father and now was his since his sire’s death a mere three years ago. He stepped from the conveyance, flipped the driver a shilling and stood there as it rolled away. He didn’t hate his stepmother. After all, he couldn’t blame her for being fixated on wealth and her uncertain future. Her own father had gone bankrupt shortly after her birth and then was killed in a tragic accident. As a result she and her mother had lived off the charity of various family members. The woman had been beautiful in her younger days, before the cruel lights of the stage and late night hours of the theater had taken their toll, not before she set her claws into his recently widowed father, however. Her desire to leave behind the stage and become a greatly respected lady fueled her decision to marry, even though she had no desire for children or to be a mother to the earl’s young son and daughter.