The Dressmaker’s Secret

by Charlotte Betts

  Aunt Maude was blocking the carriage door as she descended one painful step at a time and I couldn’t pass without knocking her over.

  ‘Alessandro!’ I shouted. Excitement and impatience to be with him again made me fidget as I waited behind Aunt Maude.

  She turned to look at me, her mouth pursed reproachfully at my unladylike shout.

  I peered between the plumes on her hat and saw Father rush out of the house and barge Alessandro with his shoulder. I gasped as Alessandro teetered on the steps, overbalanced and fell backwards. He landed hard, sprawling on the pavement.

  Father threw a small bundle after him and then went inside, slamming the door.

  ‘What a disgraceful scene!’ said Aunt Maude.

  ‘Why did Father do that?’ I said. Shocked, I watched as Alessandro sprang to his feet, shook his fist at the front door and strode off down the street.

  I wriggled past Aunt Maude and hurried after him but he was already a considerable way ahead. Dodging around strolling pedestrians, I ran along the pavement.

  Hands tugged at my sleeve and a beggar in a tattered army uniform implored me for alms.

  I prised his fingers from my arm. ‘Alessandro, wait!’ I shouted, but he was too far ahead to hear. I dashed after him, my pulse racing.

  At the end of the street I stopped at the junction with Bond Street. Shoppers crowded the pavement and carriages and horses swished past. Frantically, I looked both ways but there was no sign of him. My shoulders drooped and I swallowed bitter disappointment. He’d been so close, almost within touching distance, and I’d lost him! I could only take comfort from the belief that he’d return.

  I was nearly home when Father came marching towards me, a scowl on his face. ‘Emilia!’ He took my arm in a fierce grip. ‘Don’t ever go running off alone in the street like that again! What will people think?’

  ‘You threw Alessandro down the steps!’

  ‘I certainly did,’ he said, his voice cold. ‘He’s a most objectionable young man.’

  ‘Alessandro is never objectionable!’

  ‘He came marching into my house demanding to see you. He didn’t believe me when I said you weren’t there. He bellowed your name and had the impudence to start opening doors, looking for you.’ He tightened his grasp on my arm.

  ‘You’re hurting me!’

  ‘Don’t embarrass us both in the street, Emilia.’ He spoke through gritted teeth. ‘I thought you had acquired a little sophistication but I can see now it’s only a thin veneer over your lowly upbringing.’

  A red tide of rage rose up in me. ‘To treat me so violently clearly demonstrates your lack of breeding!’ I wrenched myself free from his grip and picked up from the pavement the bundle Father had thrown after Alessandro. A clean napkin tied with silk ribbon enclosed something soft. Untying the bow, I caught my breath when I saw the rag doll. Alessandro had returned my beloved Peggy.

  Scarlet-faced with rage, Father snatched the doll from me and dragged me by my wrist until we were inside the front door. He shoved the doll into the footman’s hands. ‘Get rid of this,’ he barked.

  ‘No!’ I shouted. I grabbed Peggy and held her tightly to my chest. ‘You shan’t take her from me. Peggy has been with me on all my travels ever since I was a little girl.’ Alessandro knew how much my old doll meant to me and had brought her all this way to return her. I buried my face in Peggy’s woollen hair, willing myself not to burst into tears.

  Aunt Maude hovered in the entrance hall, her lower lip quivering. ‘Thank goodness you’re safe, Emilia!’

  ‘No thanks to you,’ snarled Father. ‘Get out of my sight, old woman!’

  Outraged, I stared at him open-mouthed.

  Aunt Maude didn’t say a word but went upstairs, leaning heavily on her stick.

  ‘How could you be so cruel?’ I asked.

  Father made a visible effort to control himself. ‘You were in her care and she failed in her duty. Who knows what might have happened to you had I not intervened?’

  I took a calming breath. I wanted to go home to Italy with Alessandro but it would be awful to leave England on bad terms with my father. ‘What did Alessandro say?’ I asked.

  Father rubbed his palm over his face. ‘He’s in London for a few days.’

  ‘Where is he staying?’

  ‘I didn’t ask. He said he wanted to say goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye?’

  Father shrugged. ‘I’m going to my study and don’t wish to be disturbed.’

  I watched his retreating back and heard the study door slam. I didn’t understand why Alessandro wanted to say goodbye. My certainty that he must have come to apologise to me suddenly wavered.

  I withdrew to my bedroom and placed Peggy on the pillow next to Annabelle. Her embroidered smile looked coarse by comparison to Annabelle’s exquisitely painted face but no less precious. Melancholy gripped me. Sarah had taken the trouble to make Peggy for me, no doubt to soothe my tears after my previous doll had been left behind, and I regretted the times I’d been impatient with her.

  Meanwhile, poor Aunt Maude, distressed by my father’s cruel words, had been banished to her room as a result of my actions.

  A few moments later I tapped on her door.

  She sat by the window, her knuckles white on the silver handle of her stick.

  ‘I’m sorry for what Father said.’ I wrapped my arms around her thin shoulders, upset to see how diminished she looked. ‘I’ve seen a side of him today that I don’t like.’

  Aunt Maude patted my hand. ‘I’ve endured worse over the years. He’s always had a temper if he doesn’t get his own way.’

  ‘Shall I fetch my book of poetry to read to you?’

  ‘Thank you, dear. That would be soothing.’

  We read and chatted until Aunt Maude’s feathers seemed less ruffled but all the time I was conscious that Alessandro was somewhere nearby and I couldn’t go to him.

  It wasn’t until I woke up in a cold sweat during the night that I wondered if he had come to say goodbye because he’d given up waiting for me and found someone else to love.

  Chapter 23

  Alessandro didn’t try to contact me again and after a month of waiting and hoping, I could only assume he’d returned home. I cried bitter tears into my pillow, whilst nursing resentment against Father for sending him away.

  The summer passed in an interminable round of balls, routs and excursions and I became heartily tired of it all. In July I received a proposal from Mr Perry. In his usual jovial fashion, he didn’t seem to mind when I refused, which inclined me to believe his heart wasn’t deeply engaged. I saw a great deal of Dolly, usually accompanied by Mr Gregory, and was relieved he didn’t pressure me to announce a betrothal between us.

  In August, Queen Caroline was called before the House of Lords to answer a charge of adultery and it was a nasty, undignified affair. The newspapers were full of salacious and shameful accusations, apparently based on events witnessed by her ex-servants. Father gloatingly read some of the articles aloud to me, as if he hoped to shake my own good opinion of the Queen. Surprisingly, the scandalous behaviour of which she was accused didn’t appear to shake the Queenites’ good opinion of her. Day after day, cheering supporters from all walks of life lined the streets as she passed by on her way to and from the House of Lords.

  In September there was a recess and Father took Aunt Maude and me to Langdon Hall for some country air before the case for the defence began in October.

  One morning in early November I knocked on the door of Father’s study.

  ‘Look at this on the front page!’ he said, shaking his newspaper at me. ‘It says, It’s the third anniversary of the death of the late lamented Princess Charlotte, the daughter of our ill-fated Queen. The newspapers only write in these terms to stir up the rabble,’ he commented bitterly. ‘The Whigs and the Radicals are behind it, of course. They’re using the Queen to curry favour with the common people, to whom she has so aptly allied herself, so as to discredit the K
ing and bring down the Tory government.’ He dropped the crumpled newspaper on his desk. ‘Was there something you wanted, Emilia?’

  ‘Aunt Maude has woken up with a putrid sore throat,’ I said, ‘so I must write a note to Millicent Deveraux and cry off from her card party this afternoon. Dolly was to have accompanied us so I must write to him, too. May I send James to deliver the notes?’

  Father pursed his lips. ‘I think it perfectly proper for Dolly to escort you on this occasion. He is family, after all. Send him to see me before you go, will you?’

  ‘Thank you, Father, and since we need not take the carriage for Aunt Maude’s sake, Dolly and I shall be perfectly happy to walk.’

  ‘Absolutely not… I insist you take the carriage!’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to be caught up in all the vulgar commotion on the streets. It’s likely to be worse than ever after the Lords’ final vote on the Queen’s trial this afternoon.’ He picked up the paper again. ‘At least that should see an end to it, though the majority so far has been worryingly small.’

  ‘Fifty-two days now! I can’t believe it’s gone on for so long,’ I said.

  ‘The poor King is completely ground down by worry.’

  I refrained from mentioning that the Queen must be in a state of high anxiety, too. ‘There was another thing I’ve been meaning to ask,’ I said. ‘Have you received any further information on the Infanta’s miniatures?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve written dozens of letters to art dealers in the towns you visited. I haven’t received replies from all of them but nothing has come of my enquiries so far. Perhaps you’ll rack your brains for any other places Sarah might have sold them?’ He sighed heavily. ‘You are the only key to solving this puzzle, Emilia.’

  ‘I’ll think about it again,’ I promised.

  Later that afternoon Dolly arrived, immaculately dressed as usual, and went to speak to Father while I fetched my pelisse and bonnet. When I came downstairs I heard voices in the study, raised in argument. I waited in the hall until Dolly emerged. He took my arm with a tight little smile and hurried me out of the front door.

  I caught my heel in the hem of my skirt as I tried to keep up with his long stride. I gasped as I teetered on the top step and grasped at his arm.

  Dolly caught me and held me tightly against his chest until I regained my equilibrium. But he didn’t release me. I looked up and found his gaze fixed on my face. He stared at me for a long moment with unfathomable dark blue eyes and, despite my discomfort, I found myself unable to look away. Then he swiftly kissed the tip of my nose. ‘One day, Emilia, you’ll make some man very happy,’ he said, releasing his grip on me at last.

  Flushed with embarrassment, I trotted along beside him to the waiting carriage.

  ‘Your father is becoming extremely pressing on the matter of our engagement,’ he said, once we had set off. ‘He’s determined his grandson will eventually inherit the estate. Perhaps we should bite the bullet?’

  I looked at him, aghast. ‘I thought you didn’t want that, any more than I do?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ll have to marry someday and you’re as congenial as any other girl of my acquaintance.’

  ‘How very flattering!’ I said.

  He gave a wry smile. ‘I apologise, Emilia. That was ungracious. You are a delightfully pretty girl, one whom any man would be delighted to marry. It’s simply that I don’t feel ready to tie myself down yet.’

  ‘I’m not exactly sought after,’ I said, ‘since I’ve received only two proposals. I can’t count Mr Fortescue’s since he was inebriated at the time.’

  ‘You haven’t received more proposals because you don’t flirt and flutter your eyelashes like the girls who are desperate to find a husband. That sends a message to those who are actively looking for a wife, rather than simply bent on enjoying female company.’

  I sighed. ‘Father won’t be happy when I tell him I intend to return to Italy next spring.’

  Millicent Deveraux, the vivacious daughter of a Whig Member of Parliament, had recently become engaged to the second son of an Earl. She was full of bright chatter about her wedding preparations as we drank tea and nibbled slices of cake.

  ‘I simply can’t decide whether to have the wedding next July, before the Coronation, or to wait until August when the fuss is over,’ she said. She glanced at Dolly, who was smiling at a comment her mother had made. ‘What about you? Have there been any interesting developments yet in that quarter? So many girls have tried and failed. He’s very handsome, isn’t he?’

  ‘I’m enjoying the season,’ I said, heat rising in my cheeks.

  ‘It’s nearly at an end,’ said Millicent with a pitying smile. ‘You must make haste to secure him. Though I did hear a rumour that he’s in a little too deep at the gaming tables.’

  I was saved further embarrassment when Millicent’s mother clapped her hands and shepherded us into fours to play cards.

  Two hours passed pleasantly and we were about to leave when Millicent’s father rushed into the room. He hadn’t removed his coat and his hair was windblown. ‘I have an announcement,’ he called out over the hum of conversation. His eyes shone and his smile was triumphant. ‘The Queen is acquitted! She stood firm and has been vindicated!’

  I laughed in relief, delighted that her troubles were at an end. A number of cheers went up and someone called out, ‘Long live Queen Caroline!’ but others were clearly unhappy about the Lords’ decision. Everyone, even the young ladies whose fathers would have tried to divert them from the most sensational reporting as being unfit for their eyes, held vociferous opinions on whether justice had been done.

  ‘Shall we go?’ said Dolly over the commotion. ‘The streets are bound to be crowded with revellers celebrating the Queen’s victory.’

  It was dark as we left the Deveraux’ house but lights blazed in many of the windows and the streets were nearly as bright as day. The carriage was jostled and rocked from side to side as the hordes ran past, shouting until they were hoarse. Men carried banners painted with slogans such as ‘Truth will Prevail’, while others waved flaming torches and bottles of ale. There was an air of wild, feverish excitement. Men threw their hats in the air and couples danced to the discordant music of street musicians gathered into makeshift bands. Cannonfire boomed in the distance, women screamed, dogs barked, and all around was the crash of splintering glass.

  Dolly remained silent but drummed his fingers on his knee as the carriage forced its way homeward through the press.

  The clamour and delight of the crowd exhilarated me and I fervently hoped Queen Caroline was now relieved of her cares and happily celebrating her victory.

  A few days later Aunt Maude still suffered from her throat infection and I, too, remained in bed. At noon I told Daisy that I was ill. ‘Leave me to sleep until I come downstairs, will you?’ I said. ‘I don’t wish to be disturbed. I’ll ring if I need anything.’

  Once the door closed behind her I threw back the bedclothes. Father was at the House of Commons and not expected back until late. I dressed warmly since it was foggy outside and locked the bedroom door behind me, placing the key in my reticule. I crept downstairs, heart thudding, and tip-toed across the deserted hall. Thankfully, the front door hinges were well oiled and I was able to slip outside without being noticed. Head down, I hurried away, knowing that I’d be concealed by the fog before I’d gone more than a few steps. I reached Bond Street and hailed a hackney carriage. Once inside, I was in a little world of my own since the fog didn’t allow me to see any further than a yard or two ahead.

  I’d read in the papers that Queen Caroline was staying in Brandenburgh House in Fulham, lent to her by the Margravine of Ansbach, and very much wished to visit her there to congratulate her on her victory.

  By the time the hackney carriage drew up outside Brandenburgh House the breeze off the nearby Thames had dissipated the fog. From somewhere in the distance I could hear the noisy cries and shouts of merrymakers. ‘Will you wait, please?’ I as
ked the driver. ‘I shan’t be long.’

  He pulled his scarf up over his ears and settled down.

  Brandenburgh House was an elegant, classically styled mansion and a great deal more grand than the narrow-fronted house where I’d visited the Queen on the last occasion. I was pleased to discover she would receive me.

  The drawing room was overheated and smelled unpleasantly foetid, an unwashed, greasy smell I recognised from the Queen’s wardrobe in Pesaro.

  ‘You have not forgotten me then?’ she said, as I rose from my curtsey. Lady Hamilton sat beside the Queen at the fireside but this time there was no sign of the Countess Oldi.