by Linda Finlay
‘And there’ll be pain aplenty if we don’t get to our rooms before Bertram locks the door.’
‘Why …?’ Eliza began, but everyone was too busy clearing the table to take any notice of her. Seeing someone had already taken her dish away, she made her way to her room.
Eliza lay in bed, thoughts going round her head faster than the wheels on a carriage. Had Monsieur really taken money from Fay under false pretences? Perhaps she should ask him. But then if she did, and Mrs Symms had got it wrong, he might send Eliza home. The housekeeper might be in trouble for letting out his secret. And why did everyone have to be in their rooms by eight o’clock? Stranger still, why was the door to the main house locked at night? This was certainly a weird place.
‘You’ve made a splendid job of that floor, Eliza,’ Amos greeted her cheerily the next morning.
She grinned, pleased to see his friendly face. ‘Monsieur Farrant not here yet?’ she asked, peering around as though the man might be hiding under one of the counters.
‘To be honest, he rarely appears until late morning.’
‘Ah, but this morning he appears like the lark, non?’ Monsieur Farrant said, standing in the doorway and wagging his finger at Amos, who quickly turned his attention to his work. ‘Now Eliza, did you remember to smell those samples yesterday?’
‘Indeed I did, Monsieur.’
‘And did you detect any difference between them?’
‘Oh yes, yours was definitely more sophisticated,’ she enthused.
‘Bon,’ he said, his delighted smile shinier than her floor. ‘It is about the alchemy, non? The marrying of the constituents.’ Eliza smiled, realizing that ‘alchemy’ was the word Mimi had been trying to remember at supper the previous evening. ‘You think that is funny?’ Monsieur Farrant frowned.
‘No, Monsieur, I was just thinking that it’s like preparing a good meal. All the ingredients need to go together.’
‘That is a good analogy, Eliza. Well done. Now we shall step outside to the perfume garden.’
‘You have a garden that grows perfume?’ she asked, her eyes widening. As a vision of rows of little amber bottles sprouting up out of the soil flashed in front of her, she had to stop herself from laughing.
‘In a way, yes,’ he agreed. ‘We have to grow the ingredients for the perfume as we do our meals.’
Proudly he strutted around the garden, pointing out the names of flowers that were planted in neat rows and swaying in the early autumn breeze like colourful ribbons. Their heady bouquet was intoxicating. Never before had Eliza seen so many different flowers and herbs growing in one place. She must be sure to bring Fay’s little black bottle out here one day. Surely one of their scents would match?
‘It is beautiful, so vibrant, so fragrant, Monsieur,’ she enthused. ‘Oh, bunny rabbits’ ears,’ she cried, seeing the brightly coloured flowers they’d had fun popping as children.
‘Non.’ He shook his head emphatically. ‘We have no rabbits here. It would spoil the garden, non?’ He shuddered and Eliza knew it would be useless to try to explain. Then she spotted a glasshouse nearby. ‘What is that?’
‘That is our hothouse. In there, we cultivate plants for use when the frosts kill off those out here.’ Never having heard of such a thing, Eliza was amazed.
‘Oh, and what’s in that building there?’ she asked, pointing down to the far end of the long garden. His eyes darkened.
‘That is forbidden territory, Eliza. You are never, ever to venture in there. Understand?’
21
‘Of course, Monsieur,’ Eliza answered quickly, puzzled by his sharp tone. Then he was smiling again.
‘Now, you walk around by yourself and really smell the flowers. Take the aroma right up each nostril, oui? Then, I want you to select six that you think will work together in harmony. Can you manage to do that?’
‘Of course,’ she said, delighted at the prospect of spending time alone in this wondrous garden.
‘When you have made your selection, bring them to me and I will see what your nose has told you, oui?’
She nodded and watched as he strode back to the house. This was certainly much better than being cooped up indoors, she thought as she wandered from flower to flower, sniffing their bouquet.
The fragrance and peacefulness of the garden lifted her spirits. For the first time since she’d arrived, she felt happy and could have lingered all morning, but mindful of her instructions, she carefully made her choices. Then, as she was strolling back towards the house, she noticed the lavender bushes lining the path and plucked a stem to add to her posy.
Back inside, she placed her specimens on the worktop then held out the rose and lavender.
‘That is a curious mix, Mademoiselle,’ Monsieur Farrant said. ‘And before we start assessing them, I will show you something interesting, non?’ He reached up and selected two little amber bottles from the shelves.
‘Now we dip a tester strip in each, hold them up together and what do we find? That they do not blend harmoniously, non?’ He waved both samples in front of her nose before handing them to her.
Eliza inhaled deeply. ‘They don’t go well together like that,’ she agreed.
Monsieur’s eyes glittered. ‘So you think we cannot make a perfume with the lavender and rose?’ he asked.
Eliza frowned, remembering what she’d read in Fay’s book and also something the woman had told her.
‘Yes, actually, I believe you can,’ she informed him. But she was talking to his retreating back. Astounded by Monsieur’s abrupt departure, Eliza stared after him. Then she heard Amos chuckling.
‘What did I say?’ she asked, turning to face him.
‘Dear Eliza, you were not meant to tell him that they actually can work together. You were supposed to smell the lavender and rose and agree that they did not marry, then let him have the pleasure of magnanimously enlightening you. Remember what I said about his ego? Don’t worry, he’ll be back in a moment and will carry on as though nothing has happened. Of course, he’ll go off on a completely different tack.’
‘But I am right, they can be used together?’ she asked, anxious to get things right.
‘Indeed, but it all depends on the amounts involved. If you are adding only a tenth of one per cent to a complex mixture, you can use a huge range of materials that, in higher proportions, would not harmonize.’
‘You sound very knowledgeable, Amos,’ she said, not liking to admit she’d only understood half of what he’d explained.
‘As I’ve mentioned before, Monsieur Farrant is a highly skilled perfumer. He loves to impart what he knows and as long as you let him think he is brilliant, you can learn a lot.’
‘Don’t you find it annoying having to pander to him?’ she asked.
Amos shrugged. ‘I keep my head down and get on with things, but perhaps I’m not as inquisitive as you, little Eliza,’ he grinned, then quickly turned back to his work as Monsieur reappeared.
‘Now, Mademoiselle, I believe you were wanting to know about the different emotions that lavender and rose invoke?’
‘I was?’ she began, then saw Amos nodding. ‘I mean, that’s right, I was.’
‘Bon. Perfume affects the emotions so it is vital you understand how these things work. Lavender, it has the calming properties, while rose invokes happiness and positivity. All this the perfumer takes into account when he is creating his masterpiece. It is essential to know the effect each fragrance has on a person. If you can tune into their feelings and emotions, you will be able to sell to them. Which, of course, is the whole point, is
it not?’
‘It is?’
‘But of course, it is no good spending time and money creating the finest fragrance if you do not have the client to sell it to. When a client asks me to create a perfume especially for them, I spend time finding out the smells they like, what time of day they wish to wear it, etcetera, etcetera,’ he said, waving his hands flamboyantly in the air.
‘I see,’ Eliza said, thinking that the one smell she did not like was his. ‘So you are saying that you need to really find out what a person is feeling, what they like and when they are going to wear it, then match the fragrance accordingly.’
There was a moment’s silence and Eliza wondered if she’d got it horribly wrong but he clapped his hands delightedly.
‘That is exactly right, Mademoiselle. It is most interesting, non? Of course, you have much to learn but it is good to see you grasping the principles.’
There was a timid tapping on the door and Monsieur Farrant’s mood changed instantly.
‘Amos, find out who dares disturb my work,’ he snapped.
‘Yes, Monsieur,’ Amos answered, only to return a moment later. ‘Mrs Buttons apologizes for intruding but she has finished the first of Eliza’s dresses and wonders if this would be a convenient time for her to try it on. She knows how eager you are to have Eliza suitably attired for her position.’
‘Indeed I am. Fortunately, I have a client due at any moment so, Eliza, you may attend to your fitting. As I shall be busy for the rest of the day, when Mrs Buttons has finished you may remain in your room and study the notes I gave you. We will be sitting a little test soon, non?’
Eliza nodded, then quickly made her escape.
Mrs Buttons was hovering nervously in the hallway, her tape around her neck and sewing basket in her hand as usual.
‘Hope it was all right coming now, only as I’ve finished the first dress and apron I thought it would be sensible to make sure they fit before I start on the others. Course, the master was keen for me to bring his payment demand as well, only Bertram wasn’t keen to take it,’ she chuckled.
‘I can’t believe you’ve managed to sew them already,’ Eliza said, leading the way to her room.
‘Oh, yes, fingers like lightning, I have. I see you managed to put your hair up, ducks. It looks lovely and makes your neck look all long and ladylike. You’re going to look a right stunner in your new things.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Buttons.’ The woman must need a lorgnette, she thought, remembering she’d been called the mousy maid of the moor as a child, and she hadn’t changed since then, had she? ‘Shall I slip into that dress?’ she said, as soon as she’d closed the door behind her.
‘Not so fast, ducks. We got to make sure your corset fits first.’
Eliza looked at her in horror. ‘Corsets? But I don’t wear corsets.’
‘Well, ducks, you do now. Got to have the right shape under your dress, haven’t you? Now slip out of your things. Don’t worry, you ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen before. Course, if you have then we’ll make history together,’ she chortled, shaking out a dress in that mustard-coloured material that was now familiar to Eliza. She was relieved to see that the corset was more of a buff tone and not nearly as bright. Mrs Buttons helped fit her into the flared garment that had spiral stays and ended several inches below her waist. Feeling decidedly restricted, she wrinkled her nose.
‘You’re lucky to have one made by hand to your own measurements. Some poor girls are having to make do with cheaper mass-produced ones. Goodness only knows what sizes they’re trying to squeeze their bodies into.’
‘I can hardly move,’ Eliza moaned.
‘Gawd, ducks. I can remember when we had tight-lacing and believe you me you could hardly breathe, let alone move. Had to have everything pulled in, we did. Not that you’ve anything that needs holding in, of course, you being young and of firm flesh. I see your buds are blossoming nicely,’ she said, glancing at her chest. Automatically, Eliza covered it with her hands and Mrs Buttons clucked her tongue like a mother hen.
‘Like I say, nothing I haven’t seen before, ducks. You not got a mother nearby?’
Talk of her mother gave Eliza a momentary pang but she couldn’t imagine in her wildest dreams ever being able to talk about personal matters like this with her. And as for Fay, well, Eliza bet she’d never even seen a corset in her life, let alone worn one. She shook her head, hoping the woman wouldn’t ask about her family but Mrs Buttons had turned her attentions to the dress.
‘Now let’s see how this fits,’ she said, holding it out for Eliza to step into, then doing up the little bone buttons. ‘Course, it’s an important time in a girl’s life. Got three girls of me own so if there’s anything womanly you want to ask, anything at all, then ask away, girl. Mrs Buttons know how to button it,’ she said, staring at Eliza with shrewd eyes.
‘Well, actually … no, it’s all right,’ Eliza said, quickly looking away.
‘Well, ducks, like I said, I’m a mother meself so if you got anything worrying you …’ She let the rest of her sentence hang in the air and busied herself tying the matching apron in a bow behind Eliza’s back.
‘Well, there is something,’ Eliza whispered, and proceeded to tell the woman what had been bothering her. When she’d finished, Mrs Buttons patted her shoulder.
‘’Tis what happens when you grow up, ducks. Yous probably a bit later ’cos of your circumstances but now your body’s ripening ready for having children. I’ll come back, bring you some rags and things to help, and explain it all then. Just make sure you have them ready every month and you’ll save yourself a lot of laundry. Now let’s have a look at you,’ she said, spinning Eliza round and casting a critical look over her outfit. ‘That longer length covers those boots nicely but you’ll have to remember to lift your skirts when you go outside.’
Relieved she wasn’t suffering from some terrible ailment, Eliza smiled. Then, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she ran over to the mirror and twirled around.
‘Is that really me?’ she exclaimed, gazing at her reflection in amazement. She swished the material from side to side, thinking how lucky she was and how different it felt from her simple cotton skirt.
‘You look just like a young lady, ducks. You’ll have all the lads of Follytown beating a path to your door.’
Eliza frowned. ‘Not much chance of that, Mrs Buttons. The door to the main house is locked at eight o’clock each evening. I really don’t know why, though.’
The woman grunted. ‘There’s talk in the town about the funny goings-on upstairs here.’
‘What kind of things?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ Mrs Buttons said, packing her pins back into her sewing box. ‘’Tis just gossip.’
‘But that’s Monsieur Farrant’s private quarters. Mimi says he has the whole of the upstairs to himself.’
‘He might have the upper floor, but to himself? Well, that’s debatable. Now, I’ll be off to get on with your other dress and the jacket. I’ll drop those other bits and pieces by in the meantime.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Buttons,’ Eliza said, impulsively pecking her on the cheek.
‘Why, ’tis just me job, ducks,’ she said, indicating the dress, clearly pleased. ‘Course, if you have any other questions, well, you knows who to ask.’ She gave Eliza a broad wink.
As the woman hurried away, Eliza saw Mimi walking towards her.
‘Cook thought you might like something to eat as you missed luncheon,’ the little maid said. ‘As it’s the evening she visits her sister, she’s made enough for your supper
, as well.’
‘That’s kind of her,’ Eliza said.
‘It’s that hazelette stuff again. She can’t get rid of it. Bertram says it repeats on him and Dawkins prefers cheese,’ she confided, putting the tray on the table.
‘Well, I quite like it so please thank Cook, won’t you?’
Mimi nodded then stood staring at Eliza.
‘Is something wrong, Mimi?’ she asked.
‘It’s just that you look different. Sort of like a lady, I suppose.’
Eliza laughed. ‘This is my new work outfit.’
‘Well, I like that lovely skirt,’ Mimi said, pointing to Eliza’s old cotton garment on the bed. ‘All those green pieces of material make it look really pretty. I’d love to have something like that to wear when Toby calls on me half day. He’d really take notice then.’
‘Is he your follower?’ Eliza asked.
The little maid blushed as red as the rose she’d picked that morning. ‘He’s a friend of me brother’s, miss, but I catch him staring at me when he thinks I’m not looking. My brother says he only visits when I’m home and … well, he is very nice,’ she said, the last bit coming out in a rush.
‘Then why don’t you borrow it on your next half day?’ Eliza suggested.
‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ Mimi protested, staring at her in surprise.
‘Why ever not? We’re about the same size so it should fit. Mind you, it needs laundering first.’
The girl’s face lit up. ‘I’ll wash it for you right now,’ she said, snatching up the skirt and hurrying away before Eliza could change her mind.
What a busy morning it had been, Eliza thought as she settled in the chair to enjoy her late meal. She’d only just taken the first bite when there was another knock at the door. This time it was Mr Leatherjacket with Mimi dutifully hovering behind, still hugging Eliza’s skirt.
‘Begging your pardon, miss, only Monsieur said yous needed these as soon as I could have them ready,’ he said, holding out a shiny pair of brown leather boots.