By the King's Design (10 page)

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Authors: Christine Trent

BOOK: By the King's Design
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Belle's mind raced over her cloth inventory. She had nothing suitable on hand. She would probably seek out some of the new copper-roller printed fabrics. She imagined something in Turkey red, or perhaps chrome yellow, colors dramatic enough to do justice to such a palace.
The wallpaper finisher next door to her could probably create an appropriate design, given the right instruction. How she envied Mr. Nash's good fortune to not only work for the man who would eventually be king but work on such a project!
“That is an understatement, sir. You are fortunate indeed to have such an opportunity.”
“But it is an opportunity I am willing to share.” Nash rolled this second drawing back up and inserted it back into the crate. “How would you like to work under the Pavilion's artist-designer, Mr. Crace, as an assistant, if you will, to provide all of the drapery and upholstery fabrics for the project?”
Had she just heard aright? Was she, an unrefined girl from Yorkshire, being offered a prospect that the most respected members of the Company of Drapers could only dream of? Why was Nash presenting it to her on a silver salver?
“I don't understand, sir. I'm just a draper recently arrived from the north. You hardly know me. And surely the prince wouldn't risk money and time on someone as untried and inexperienced as I am?”
“Ah, but you're not just a draper. You're a woman of mettle and spirit. You've got innate talent that could be easily developed. More importantly, the prince is impressed with you.”
Impressed with her? How could this be? He'd stopped short of mocking her out loud, and then dismissed her without any assurance that he would give her petition any consideration.
But so what? Would the opportunity of working at the Pavilion not only be a great coup for her, would it also give her a chance to urge the prince once again to take action against the wild Luddites?
She had to admit, though, that the idea of working on a royal residence was the most tantalizing consideration. Her mind turned to more practical considerations.
“How often would you—or Mr. Crace—expect me at the Pavilion? I have a new shop and I'm trying to build up business there. What will I do with it?”
“Surely you have a trusted servant. Did you close your shop to come here today? Can he not manage your shop when you need to be in Brighton?”
Hmm. Could he? She'd forgiven Wesley, but did she trust him yet?
If I want to take advantage of this project, there's no help for it. I have to leave the shop in his hands.
“Yes, I suppose he can. How long do you estimate the project to last, Mr. Nash?”
He spread his hands and shrugged. “The prince is a man of many, er, changing opinions. My design could expand, contract, and change many times before the project is complete. Assume a few years, although your visits would be infrequent. Mr. Crace handles much of the design, but he'll confer with you over complementary fabrics to his designs. You'll still have a firm hand in your shop.”
The project could last for years.
What a reputation she could establish if she didn't fail at the work. Although failure was a distinct possibility, if the prince was as finicky as Nash implied him to be.
“Sir, you yourself say I only have an unrefined talent. I'm not sure I'm ready to be an advisor to the prince's artist-designer.”
“I think that will be easily enough done, Miss Stirling. I'll engage you as sort of an associate, giving you a wage for working with me on the project, although in many ways you'll be more of an apprentice to Mr. Crace. I'll give you colored plates to study, texts to read, and will tour you past some of my own completed projects, so that you can understand things beyond the perspective of a mere draper. I'm sure Mr. Crace will also want to tutor you, much as I did with my current associate, James Morgan, who is staying behind to manage the Regent Street project, but whom I expect you will meet in due course. And so, what say you to my offer?”
She was light-headed by what the man was suggesting. And was there really any doubt she'd do it?
“Mr. Nash, I would be honored to be your draper.”
“Splendid. I'll give you some materials to examine and expect you to join Mrs. Nash and me in Brighton in a month.”
Belle left Dover Street with her arms piled high with leather-bound books and sheaves of watercolor plates tied together with twine.
She could hardly believe her own good fortune.
 
Business in the shop picked up almost instantly, once she had Wesley letting out word that the proprietress was to be providing fabrics for the redesign of the Royal Pavilion. They adjusted their hours to stay open longer, and were even visited by the master of the Drapers' Company, who was curious to meet the city's newcomer who had already garnered royal recognition.
More interesting to Belle than honorific visits, though, was the increased contact with society women. She and Wesley quickly adapted their manners and speech to that of their clients. In Leeds, much of her custom was done through letters and via agents. Her personal contact with customers was generally limited to the ordinary residents of Leeds. Now, she never knew when a lady of rank might wish to see her goods. It was a heady experience.
And these more important customers required far better service, which frequently meant visiting them at their homes with samples. Belle was glad that Wesley was throwing himself into their new circumstances with enthusiasm, always happy to stay behind, tending to walk-in patrons while Belle was out meeting customers of distinction.
When Belle wasn't working with customers, her nose was buried inside the materials Nash had provided her. She'd no idea there was so much to learn. Most interesting to her was the extent to which the reigning monarch impacted home fashions. What a king found fashionable, so did everyone in the country, from fabric color to the primary woods used for every stick of furniture in the house.
Her initial reading was of the classical architectural orders: Doric, Ionic, and Corinthian. The differences among the styles bored her, and she knew that Nash wasn't one to slavishly adhere to any particular architectural style, anyway, hence his popularity with an extravagant, unrestrained patron.
She learned that interiors of the Tudor period reflected the heavy ornate dress of its courtiers: heavy fringes and braids against green, red, and yellow fabrics. The wood of choice was oak, plentiful in England's forests. Fabrics were frequently shot through with gold or silver thread, a sewing effort Belle could not fathom.
Green was the most popular interior color during the Stuart reign of the seventeenth century, and it was accompanied by the heaviest furniture designs she'd ever laid eyes on, carved mostly in walnut, a dark wood. The Stuarts also popularized single color schemes in each room. The great tester beds and Jacobean sideboards were downright colossal.
Furniture design lightened up considerably in the early eighteenth century with the ascent of Queen Anne and the King Georges I, II, and III, although the penchant for single-color rooms remained. The beauty of mahogany was appreciated, and furniture in this sturdy wood began filling the best homes. Belle recognized some of the famous, more modern names associated with the period: Adam, Hepplewhite, Sheraton, and even Thomas Chippendale, who practiced his trade in the then-colonies, were all well-known even to a neophyte such as her.
Even more interesting were the names of artist-designers, such as Frederick Crace and Robert Jones. Mr. Crace she would soon meet. Would she maybe one day meet Mr. Jones, as well?
According to Nash's notes, the wealthier families were discarding the Georgian décor of the last hundred years, creating great opportunities for architects and artist-designers. Aristocratic and affluent merchant families were today remaking their homes to reflect the emerging style dictated by the man who would become George IV but was now merely titled the Prince Regent.
Nash offered his opinion of the impact the Prince Regent would have on interior style. The prince had eclectic tastes, and loved nothing more than mixing them together in a chaotic blend of color and style. Straight, neo-classical lines could be happily combined with chinoiserie wallpaper and French over-gilding, making the prince giddy with joy.
No wonder Belle thought the Circular Room at Carlton House looked ridiculous.
And now she understood Nash's outrageous ideas for the Pavilion.
For further study, Belle even paraded about London, seeking out the designs of architects Nash had listed as noteworthy. The Drury Theatre façade improvements by Robert Adam; Henry Holland's East India House, home to the British East India Company; and Nash's multitude of terraced homes, as well as the beginnings of his planned Regent's Canal, opened Belle's eyes to the magnificent world of London architecture.
She also spent time near Carlton House, walking the length of the street improvements Nash planned between the residence and Marylebone Park. She grasped now why there was such animated discussion in Parliament, given the extraordinary scope of it, and the number of existing homes and buildings to be torn down in the process of creating this straightened thoroughfare. An impressive and ambitious project, she decided.
Inside Marylebone Park was a sign describing a canal that had just been approved by Parliament as part of the redevelopment of the area. The canal would begin from the River Thames at Limehouse, running under bridges, through locks, and past basins on its way to the Paddington Basin. The sign boasted that upon the project's completion, London's shipping efficiency would be unparalleled. The project was being financed by the Regents' Canal Company. She ran a finger across the list of company leaders. John Nash was a director.
Was there anything in London he wasn't involved in?
Belle hardly slept during these few weeks, instead transforming herself into a sea sponge, absorbing information then lying down to dry out before absorbing even more. Between studying and visiting customers in their homes to opine on their décor based on her newfound knowledge, she was exhausted.
A Lady Derby sent a note summoning Belle to her residence at 23 Grosvenor Square. Belle arrived there with a bundle of samples, unsure whether Lady Derby was shopping for dress material or draperies. She soon realized that the countess really just wanted to see who Belle was.
“Surely you've heard of me, Miss Stirling.”
No, she hadn't.
It seemed a peculiar habit of the aristocrats she was meeting to assume that everyone knew of them and their great accomplishments.
“I'm afraid I am at a loss... ,” Belle said helplessly.
Lady Derby, a tall, slender woman of probably fifty years, who was nevertheless still quite beautiful, played the coquette with an increasingly uncomfortable Belle. “As notorious as I am, and you've never heard mention of me?”
“I'm afraid I'm quite new to London. I've been many years in Yorkshire, madam.”
“I started my own life from humble beginnings, too, in Liverpool. But I came to London and became the darling of Drury Lane. Are you sure you've never heard of me? I was Berinthia in Sheridan's
Trip to Scarborough,
and Miss Tittup in Garrick's
Bon Ton
. No? I married Lord Derby after leaving the stage, oh, fifteen years ago.”
Something the woman said struck a memory in Belle's mind. “Sheridan? Do you perchance mean the member of Parliament?”
“Yes, he's held posts in the government for years. It's all he has since his theatre burned down three years ago. He and the prince are famous carousing partners. Have you met him?”
“Not exactly. I saw him speak in Parliament when I went there to complain about the Luddites.”
“You went to Parliament? And spoke during session?” Lady Derby looked at her thoughtfully. “How very remarkable.”
Belle was uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Yes, madam. About the fabric you wished to inspect?”
Lady Derby cast a bored eye over her samples. “Yes, these all look adequate. I understand you were quite frank with the prince's architect when you visited Carlton House. They say the prince was quite taken with you and has talked of little else. I had to meet you for myself. Tell me, Miss Stirling, what do you think of our townhome? What changes would you make to this drawing room, for instance?” She swept a hand around her parlor.
Was this a test? Was she expecting an honest assessment or was she intending to mock Belle? Best to be politic.
“Well, if I may, Lady Derby, I'm guessing by the curved niches and the curves in the vaulted ceiling, as well as the rounded mantelpieces, that this home was designed by Robert Adam. And if this is so, then I would not change a single thing.”
“Ah, well done, Miss Stirling, well done!” Lady Derby laughed, revealing teeth that were still white and perfect, despite her advancing age. “You would do well at court intrigue. As for me, I am more comfortable with rehearsed lines than with spontaneous witticisms. I wish Lord Derby were home. He would enjoy a look at you.”

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