The Dressmaker’s Secret

by Charlotte Betts

  Sitting opposite me at the table, she ate in silence and rarely engaged me in conversation. She had rejected my tentative advances of friendship ever since I’d arrived. I sighed. Still, she wouldn’t be troubled by my presence for a great deal longer. Every day I expected Lady Hamilton to send me a note to say she was travelling to France. And soon after that I’d be back with Alessandro. My thoughts drifted to that summer evening when we’d watched the fireflies dancing in the avenue of cypresses. In the circle of his arms I’d known with absolute certainty that we were meant for each other. But now…

  ‘Emilia?’

  ‘Sorry, Father,’ I said. ‘I was daydreaming.’ Alessandro and I would make it all right between us again. We had to.

  He smiled indulgently and patted my hand. ‘And what were you thinking?’

  ‘That I haven’t heard from Lady Hamilton.’

  ‘You don’t still have it in mind to return to Lyons with her, do you?’ The smile had gone from his face. ‘I cannot like the thought of you returning to Caroline of Brunswick’s household. There’s so much still for us to talk about and I haven’t yet taken you to see the London sights. And there’s a play on at the Adelphi I thought might amuse you.’

  I didn’t answer him directly. ‘Father, have you heard whether Mr Brougham has left for Lyons?’ I asked. ‘He promised to meet the Princess there before she travelled to England.’

  He looked at me sharply. ‘Is she definitely coming then?’

  I shrugged. ‘Mr Brougham led her to believe the divorce case would come to trial this month but soon it will be Christmas. The Princess wants the whole business settled so that she can return to live a quiet life in Pesaro.’

  ‘She wouldn’t bring that raggle-taggle band of Italians with her, surely?’ Father’s expression was incredulous. ‘She’d be hounded back across the sea. Especially if she was accompanied by that blackguard Pergami.’

  ‘That’s why she wants Lady Hamilton to join her, so that she has an English courtier with her when she arrives.’

  ‘Brougham was in the House of Commons the other day,’ said Father, sipping his claret. ‘Emilia, if Caroline of Brunswick intends to come to London soon, why the rush for you to return to her side? Will you then return to London with her?’

  I shook my head and made a show of cutting up my meat to avoid looking at him. ‘I’m no courtier and I have friends in Pesaro,’ I said, assailed by a sharp longing for Alessandro. It hurt to remember how we’d parted.

  ‘A special friend?’ said Father. When I didn’t answer, he said, ‘Emilia, we said we wouldn’t have secrets from each other. Is there a young man I should know about?’

  Reluctantly, I nodded.

  ‘Tell me about him.’ He spoke gently.

  ‘His name is Alessandro Fiorelli,’ I said, needing little encouragement. ‘He’s a tutor to the Baron’s daughter, Victorine.’

  ‘Tutor?’ Father sighed. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised… you’ve been working as a dressmaker. It won’t have been easy for you to meet suitors appropriate to your birth. What of his family?’

  ‘Alessandro’s father is a doctor.’ I bristled at the implication that his family wasn’t good enough for me.

  ‘Alessandro? Is there a formal understanding between you that you refer to him in such familiar terms?’

  ‘He proposed to me,’ I said, ‘but we had a disagreement about my coming to London to look for you. Now I don’t know…’ Reliving the hard words between us before I left Lyons, I knew I couldn’t say any more without breaking down.

  ‘Dearest girl, all I want is your happiness,’ said Father. ‘If this Alessandro Fiorelli is the right husband for you, he’ll wait a while and then you can spend the rest of your lives together. But you’ve only just returned to me and I hope you won’t think me selfish if I say how terribly sad I would be to lose you again so soon. Why, I haven’t even had time to show you Langdon Hall yet.’ He stroked my hand, which was curled into a fist on the tablecloth. ‘Are you not happy here?’ His tone was imploring.

  ‘How could I not be happy, when you have taken me in and welcomed me?’ I said, my thoughts confused. I wanted to return to Alessandro.

  ‘Could you not write to this young man,’ said Father, ‘and tell him you wish to stay with your newfound family for a few months? Is that too much to ask?’

  I rubbed my temples, the quandary making my head ache.

  ‘You’ll have to decide soon,’ said Father, ‘if Lady Hamilton is leaving shortly.’

  ‘I know,’ I said, pushing my unfinished food away.

  ‘Shall we take our tea in the drawing room?’ said Aunt Maude. She stood up and I had no choice but to follow her lead.

  ‘I shall join you ladies as soon as I’ve finished my brandy,’ said Father.

  Aunt Maude and I retired to the drawing room, where the tea tray awaited us. As usual she poured the tea and handed me a cup.

  We sat in uneasy silence while I wondered if Alessandro would wait for me if I delayed my return.

  ‘Emilia,’ said Aunt Maude, putting down her cup.

  I looked at her, surprised. She barely spoke to me except out of necessity.

  ‘Your father can be very persuasive,’ she continued. ‘But, if you love this young man of yours, you mustn’t allow Frederick to keep you apart.’

  Her comment surprised me even more. ‘I do want to return to Alessandro,’ I said, ‘but I’ve longed for a family of my own for so long…’

  ‘If you delay your return it may be too late.’ She looked intently at me. ‘Go to your young man while you can, Emilia.’ There was such passion in her voice that I wondered if, in her distant youth perhaps, she’d been parted from a man she loved.

  The drawing-room door opened then and Father entered. ‘Emilia, shall we play a hand of cards?’

  I glanced at Aunt Maude but she was staring at the flickering flames in the hearth, giving no indication that she had spoken to me at all.

  The following afternoon, I set off in Father’s carriage. He’d refused to let me walk by myself, though I’d protested that I often walked alone through the streets in Italy. Aunt Maude, her lips pursed, commented that no young lady of breeding ever ventured abroad without a companion. So it was that my great-aunt sat opposite me in Father’s carriage.

  It was bitterly cold and she sat with the collar of her pelisse turned up and her gloved hands folded in her lap. Her face was resolutely turned away from me so she could look out of the window.

  The noise in the streets was even worse than in Florence and I caught my breath as a curricle raced past with only a couple of inches to spare. The young blood driving the equipage flicked his whip and surged forward, scattering the pedestrians crossing the road. I was happy to look out of the window as we rattled past an endless array of smart shops. The fashions worn by the stylish London ladies were subtly different from those worn in the Italian cities. I made mental notes as to the cut of a pelisse or the drape of a skirt to take back to Italy for my clients, in due course.

  Despite the freezing weather, streams of shoppers ambled along the pavements, girls sold scraps of lace and trinkets from handcarts, here a man juggled oranges and there a beggar in military uniform propped himself up on his wooden leg and proffered his hat for coins. Everything was unfamiliar and therefore interesting to me.

  The carriage came to a halt outside the Hamilton house in Portman Street and Aunt Maude didn’t object when I took her arm to guide her over the cobbles, which were slippery with ice.

  ‘Are you quite sure you’re making the right decision?’ she asked as we waited for the door to open.

  I wasn’t at all sure I was doing the right thing and I’d worried about it most of the previous night, wondering what to do. ‘You and Father are the only relatives I have left,’ I said.

  ‘That’s all very well,’ said Aunt Maude, ‘but you don’t know us at all.’

  ‘But now I have the chance to remedy that,’ I said. And it grieved me to realise
that if Alessandro didn’t understand that I needed time to get to know my father properly, then perhaps he wasn’t the right man for me after all.

  A footman opened the door and we followed him across the hall to the drawing room.

  ‘Miss Weston and Miss Langdon, ma’am.’

  ‘So, you’re not Miss Barton any longer,’ said Lady Hamilton, gesturing to us to sit down.

  I wasn’t sure if I liked being called Miss Langdon. It wasn’t who I was. But then, I admitted, sighing, I wasn’t Miss Barton either. ‘It feels strange,’ I said, with a wry smile. ‘My father, however, is prepared to compromise and my Christian name remains Emilia.’

  ‘How complicated!’

  I didn’t say that it was far more complicated for me than it was for her. ‘I’ve brought a letter for the Princess,’ I said, ‘and should tell you that I’ve decided not to return to her at present. Now that I’m reunited with my family after so long, I intend to stay here for a while.’

  ‘I daresay the Princess can spare you,’ said Lady Hamilton.

  ‘Before I left her, she asked me to ascertain what is happening in London with regard to Mr Brougham’s visit to her,’ I said. ‘It appears he was in the House the other day and not on his way to Lyons as the Princess expected. She believed the matter of a divorce was to come to court this month.’

  ‘I haven’t heard any indications of that,’ said Lady Hamilton. ‘The politicians are far too preoccupied with the massacre at Peterloo.’

  ‘Massacre?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t you read the papers?’ asked Lady Hamilton. ‘There was an assembly of sixty thousand Radicals and Whigs in St Peter’s Field, near Manchester, to demand the reform of parliamentary representation.’

  ‘I don’t see how that influences Mr Brougham’s movements,’ I said, puzzled.

  ‘The Tory government sent in the cavalry with sabres drawn to dispel the assembly,’ said Lady Hamilton. Her expression was grim. ‘Fifteen died and seven hundred were injured. The people call it the Peterloo Massacre, after the Battle of Waterloo.’

  I resolved to read the newspaper every day after Father had finished with it. Perhaps it would help me to glean some information that could be of use to the Princess. ‘That’s appalling,’ I said, ‘but I still don’t understand…’

  ‘Brougham hasn’t time to go gallivanting off to France,’ said Lady Hamilton impatiently, ‘not while emergency legislation is being debated in Parliament. He’s marshalling the rest of the Opposition, Whig and Radical, to argue against the proposed measures.’

  ‘The poor Princess,’ I said, ‘waiting in vain all this time.’

  ‘She needs careful guidance since she’s so prone to impetuousness,’ said Lady Hamilton. ‘Now is not a good time for her to arrive in London. Much better to wait until next year.’

  ‘I see.’ I opened my reticule and took out the letters I’d written that morning. ‘This is for the Princess.’

  She took the missive from me.

  ‘And then there is another letter for a member of her household,’ I said. ‘I would be extremely grateful if you would arrange for this to be handed to Signor Fiorelli.’

  Lady Hamilton took my letter for Alessandro between the tips of her fingers as if it were something distasteful. ‘I am not in the habit of acting as a postman to servants,’ she said, ‘but I will take your communication this time. Or, if I decide not to travel now, I’ll send them on to her.’

  My cheeks burned. ‘Thank you, Lady Hamilton,’ I said. I’d toiled over the letter to Alessandro, writing and rewriting it three times, explaining that I’d decided to stay in England longer than I’d expected. I’d told him I loved him and begged him again to understand and to write to me.

  The clock in the hall struck a quarter past three and Lady Hamilton rang the bell on the side table. Our visit was at an end.

  ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘since your father is acquainted with the Prince Regent, you may hear of developments the Princess should know about. In such a case you may write to me. Deliver any such letters here and my servants will forward them in my absence.’

  I hesitated. ‘Would you send a brief note to me now and again when you do return to the Princess? I have no way of knowing how she fares or if there is any small service I can render to her.’

  I glanced at Aunt Maude but she sat straight-backed, her gaze fixed on her hands folded in her lap.

  Lady Hamilton sighed. ‘I will communicate to you any news of particular note. I shall send such letters here to Portman Street and one of my servants will deliver them to you at Grosvenor Street.’

  ‘Then there is nothing for me to say except to wish you a safe journey, Lady Hamilton,’ I said.

  In the carriage on the way back to Grosvenor Street Aunt Maude sighed. ‘Well, you’ve burned your bridges now, haven’t you?’

  ‘I know you don’t want me to stay in your home…’

  ‘Believe me, it isn’t my home,’ she retorted.

  I clasped my hands tightly together. It upset me that she had taken against me. ‘I shan’t let you stop me forging bonds with my father.’

  ‘I can see that.’ She glanced at me, an odd half-smile on her mouth.

  I capitulated and asked the question that had troubled me since the first day we met. ‘Why do you dislike me so?’

  Aunt Maude shook her head. ‘I don’t dislike you,’ she said. ‘You were an adorable child. ‘You used to call me Auntie Maudie and bring all your little treasures to show me.’ She looked out of the carriage window and sighed. ‘But that was so long ago. We cannot go back to the past and do things differently with the benefit of hindsight.’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  Aunt Maude shrugged. ‘I didn’t want you to have regrets about not returning to your young man, that’s all.’ She faced me, her pale eyes glittering. ‘Once I was considered pretty. I never imagined I’d end up as a spinster, living on my nephew’s reluctant charity.’

  I studied her fine bone structure and could see that she might have been lovely once. ‘I hope I haven’t lost my chance with Alessandro,’ I said. ‘But I need time with my father or I’ll always wonder what it would have been like to know him properly.’

  ‘Sometimes the things we want aren’t the things that finally bring us happiness,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘Very well then, since despite my best efforts I haven’t managed to frighten you away, we shall make the best of it, my dear. And I sincerely hope we shall regain our earlier friendship.’

  Then, to my utmost astonishment, she patted my hand.

  Chapter 15

  Christmas 1819

  Langdon Hall

  I started awake as Father touched my knee.

  ‘We’re here,’ he said.

  He, Aunt Maude and I had set off early. We’d sought refreshment at the Feathers Inn in Hartley Wintney and afterwards the heavy pastry of the chicken pie had rested uneasily on my stomach. I’d watched the endless countryside roll past the carriage windows until my head began to nod. Aunt Maude dozed and before long I’d succumbed to sleep, too.

  ‘Emilia?’ said Father. ‘Come and look!’ He took my hand as I clambered down, stiff-legged, from the carriage.

  We’d come to a halt at the end of a long carriage drive that led through parkland studded with ancient oaks. In the distance was a substantial house built of mellow red brick, with pointed gables and twisted chimneys.

  ‘Langdon Hall,’ said Father, unable to keep the note of pride from his voice.

  I caught my breath in shocked surprise. ‘It’s beautiful!’ Welcoming lights glimmered behind some of the stone-mullioned windows.

  ‘It was built in the early sixteenth century,’ Father said, ‘by a Roger Fforbes. It’s been in the Langdons’ possession for the last two hundred years.’

  Although I’d realised Father was wealthy, I’d had no idea that his country house would be so impressive.

  Father looked at me intently. ‘You have no memories of the Hall?’

  I shook my he
ad.

  ‘I can’t give you back those years,’ he said, echoing my own thoughts. ‘If that wretched maid hadn’t stolen you away you wouldn’t have been deprived of the life you should have had; all the fine dresses, music and dancing lessons, a pony…’ He sighed. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’