Cinders & Sapphires (5 page)

Rose hurried after Stella, up the winding stairs toward Lady Ada’s room. Stella had been here only a few days and yet she already seemed to know her way around better than Rose did. But all this was new to Rose. She had never before been allowed to walk freely through the family’s part of the house. She had always been a downstairs maid. It was Annie who lit the fires in the family’s bedrooms in the morning. It was like finding herself in a whole new Somerton.

There was something in Stella’s assured smile as she pushed open Lady Ada’s door that made Rose nervous. She told herself she was being silly. Stella and she were equals, Stella had said so herself. Rose just needed to believe it. She looked around at the room. It seemed more lived in now. A discarded dress was strewn across the bed, and there were books lying open on the windowsill.

“Now, it’s true that there’s a lot to learn and you are in no way prepared, but you mustn’t feel daunted,” Stella said. “We all had to start somewhere.”

“I’m very grateful,” Rose said, and she meant it. Looking at this room through the eyes of someone who had seen how London ladies live, she felt the full responsibility of what lay ahead.

Stella wrinkled her nose as she looked around the room. “I’m not sure if the fact that these girls are truly countrified makes your job easier or more difficult, Rose. You will certainly have trouble turning them out stylishly. You’ll have to convince them to buy some more gowns—those drab old muslins are no good to anyone. I wouldn’t wear them myself.”

Rose found herself wanting to defend Lady Ada.

“I think Lady Ada always looks nice. I know her dresses aren’t as”—she searched for a word—“fashionable as Miss Charlotte’s, but they seem to suit her.”

“I hope you’re not comparing Miss Charlotte to Lady Ada!” Stella sounded quite scandalized. “Everyone knows Miss Charlotte is one of the most elegant debutantes in London. Now…” She looked thoughtful. Rose waited, listening carefully. Stella would be able to teach her so much—if she wanted to.

“I expect you have previous experience of dressing ladies?” Stella went on. As she spoke, she moved around the room, picking up a kid glove here, a silk stocking here, and placing them into drawers or setting them on one side for mending or washing.

Rose followed her, trying to take note of everything that she did. “I’ve done my mother’s hair and dresses for years.” But as Rose looked at the huge wardrobes in front of her, she had to admit that it was much like comparing sailing a dinghy to captaining an ocean liner.

“Oh dear, that’s hardly the same thing.” Stella smoothed a glove into a drawer. “Let me explain. Your main duty is to make sure the young ladies look their best. You must prepare their clothes and do their hair.” She plucked a stray hair from the pillow. “Keep the dressing table in order, make sure they have cologne and cosmetics—” She arranged the items on the dressing table as she spoke, placing a silver-and-amber brooch into the jewel case, and folding a fan and putting it away.

“Dressing table, cologne, cosmetics…” Rose repeated, wondering how on earth she would remember all this.

“That’s not all there is to the job, of course.…Miss Charlotte often doesn’t finish a ball until three in the morning. Lady Ada seems a bit quiet for that, but you must always wait up until she comes home, to undress her. There will be plenty to wash and mend while you wait.”

“I can wash and mend,” Rose said eagerly. “But how shall I know what to give her to wear?”

“She will tell you what she intends to do that day, and you make your selection accordingly, of course. From her wardrobe.” Stella threw open the wardrobe doors.

Rose looked in horror at the rails of clothes. They had seemed sparse when she compared them to Miss Charlotte’s, but now that she was in charge of them, they seemed overwhelming.

“But I don’t know which are right for riding and walking and visiting….”

Stella looked at Rose pityingly. “You have more to learn than I thought. Just concentrate on well-cut tweeds and some really presentable evening dresses, a number of tea gowns, and so on.”

“Tea gowns,” Rose repeated, wondering again in panic how she would remember.

“But the most important thing is not to forget your new status. You are a ladies’ maid. This means you won’t eat in the servants’ hall. One of the housemaids will bring you a tray. It’s very important that you set yourself apart.”

Rose had always eaten in the warm servants’ hall. She felt a lump in her throat at the thought of Annie bringing her a tray. She was aware of Stella’s eyes on her.

“How on earth
did
you get this post, Rose? I am dying to know who you impressed.”

Rose, taken aback by the abrupt question, answered automatically: “It was Lord Westlake who suggested it. I think he must be a very kind man.”

“He must be,” said Miss Ward lightly, “to have taken your mother in.”

Rose looked at her in surprise.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, only that few households of this consequence would take on a maid with a child,” said Miss Ward. Her blue eyes glinted with an expression Rose couldn’t decipher. “Let alone promote her to housekeeper.”

Rose felt herself turning pink. She knew her father was dead. She didn’t remember him, and her mother didn’t speak of him, but that didn’t mean…“My mother’s a widow,” she said as calmly as she could. “You surely don’t mean to imply—”

Miss Ward’s eyes grew round. “Of course not! I simply meant to say that it is unusual, isn’t it, to take on a servant with a child in tow.”

“My mother gives very good satisfaction, and I hope I do too,” Rose said, her voice trembling slightly.

“I can see that is the case. It’s not me you have to convince. And indeed, it needn’t make the slightest bit of difference,” Miss Ward said warmly. “What will matter is how well you perform your work. The first thing is to make sure Lady Ada has something suitable for dinner tonight.” She ran a critical hand over the dresses. “This eau de nile tulle may do, if she has some pearls to wear with it. Just a strand or two… Have you quite considered whether you’re right to accept this post, Rose? I wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed, you see. I’m only thinking of your own good.”

Are you?
thought Rose. Out loud, she said, “You’re very kind. But I think it’s my duty to give it a try.”

Stella smiled tightly. “Well, if you’re determined, I’m glad. We must be very good friends, then, mustn’t we?”

“I suppose we must,” said Rose.

Stella turned back to the wardrobe, running a thoughtful finger down a satin dress. “I’ll give you a word of advice,” she said in a voice as smooth as the cloth. “There are a lot of opportunities for a ladies’ maid, if you’re wise enough to know how to take them.”

Rose stayed silent. Stella clearly meant much more than she was saying.

“The trick is to find ways inside your mistress’ defenses,” Stella went on.
“
Once you know what she’s afraid of, you can wrap her round your little finger.” She looked at Rose and when Rose did not answer, scowled. She left the wardrobe and moved closer to Rose. “Do you think they’re in charge, just because they pay your wages? They
need
us. They couldn’t live a day without us. It is up to us to show them how indispensable we are—how much they need our loyalty. After all, a ladies’ maid often hears and sees things that have a certain…value to them.”

Rose stared at her, speechless. She could hardly believe what Stella was implying.

“I think I understand you,” she said, her face hot, her voice tense. “And you’ve made a mistake. That is not me.”

Stella stepped away from her as if she had burned herself.

“You never know what you’ll do until you have to,
Miss Cliffe
.” Her voice was icy, but there was color in her cheeks, and Rose noticed something like fear in her eyes. “Those who ride on high horses have a long way to fall.”

Dinner was served, and the candlelight was reflected in the crystal and the silver, a shimmering, glimmering display of ice and fire. The shadowy Old Masters looked down from the walls, and in the center of the table a carved ice swan melted slowly into a silver tray.

Ada, not used to such luxury, felt all fingers and thumbs. The Templetons seemed more at home. Michael tore pieces of bread and rolled them into balls, his face set in a moody reverie. He was certainly handsome, like his older brother, Ada thought, but too sulky to be likeable. Georgiana was making a fine attempt of talking to him, but he answered in monosyllables.

“Fine motor, that, Mrs. Templeton. We’ve ordered a Rolls,” William said at the other end of the table. “Chauffeur, though—wouldn’t want to drive it myself.”

“Ordered a motorcar?” Lord Westlake raised his eyebrows. “How much did that cost?”

“Everyone has them nowadays,” William said, raising his glass for the footman.

“So I’m told.” Lord Westlake watched the wine filling William’s glass. “The chauffeur will cost more than he’s worth—they’re not good servants.”

William took a generous swig and wiped his mouth.

“So, Uncle, why the hurry to return? India lose its charm?”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming,” Lord Westlake said dryly.

“We’re obviously delighted to see you back,” William said gruffly. “I’m sure you understand that we found the sudden homecoming and subsequent marriage announcement a bit jarring, that’s all.”

“Did you?” Lord Westlake laid down his knife and fork. “Because I found what happened with the fields above Redlands Copse a bit jarring as well, William.”

“They were going to rot. I saw opportunity in the sale. No need for them, so we sold them at a profit.”

“Those fields had been in the estate since the seventeen hundreds. I left you here as steward, not to try and turn a profit to your own account.”

“I think you’re very hard on a fellow,” said William. He buried his nose in his wineglass, his eyes darting here and there as if looking for an escape. “And it’s not as if I’m the only sinner in the room, either.”

Ada’s food had turned to a lump in her throat. William had always been pigheaded, but he surely couldn’t be foolish and rude enough to bring up the matter of Papa’s resignation over dinner. Not with the Templetons listening avidly. Sebastian’s eyes were dancing with curiosity.

“I’m going to pretend, William, that you did not say that.”

William, eyeing the dangerous expression on his uncle’s face, muttered, “Right, sir.”

Georgiana clattered her fork, and all eyes turned to her.

“I’m so looking forward to our first season—I mean, Ada’s first season,” she said, looking at her sister pleadingly. The message was clear:
Change the subject!

“Yes—yes, I can’t wait!” Ada forgave herself for lying. It was in a good cause. “I can hardly believe there are only six months to go.”

“Neither can I,” Charlotte said, looking Ada up and down. “But don’t worry, I’m sure we shall get you ready somehow.”

Ada and Georgiana looked at each other. Ada had never considered that she might not be ready. The “season” was a round of social visits, balls, parties. She had imagined enduring it, laughing at its frivolity under her breath. She had never imagined that she might not live up to its standards.

“It really was a little much for your father to expect you to go directly from the jungle to the ballroom,” Charlotte went on in a lower voice. Ada glanced up toward Lord Westlake, but he was scowling at William and did not hear them. “I do pity you. I suppose you have never been at a really smart gathering before.”

“There is society in India too, you know,” Georgiana said.

“People, no doubt. But not society.” Charlotte smiled sweetly.

Fiona raised her lorgnette and examined Ada across the table.

“Yes, there isn’t much time to prepare you,” she said. “Our first goal must be to secure a sponsor for your presentations at court this spring. Unfortunately I myself cannot perform that duty. I never had the honor of being presented to the monarch. However, I hope to persuade Mrs. Verulam to be kind enough.”

“That will be such an awful bore,” said Charlotte. “It’s so strange that we have to wear plain white dresses, and no jewels at all.”

“I thought debutantes were allowed a string of pearls?” Sebastian said.

“I don’t call pearls
jewels
,” said Charlotte scornfully.

Ada, who was wearing her mother’s pearls, blushed and looked at the table. Charlotte could not have meant it unkindly, she told herself.

“It was an absolute shame to ruin your complexion by exposing it to the sun,” Mrs. Templeton announced, examining Ada through her lorgnette. “And your clothes are quite out of style, but then what can one expect from India? A visit to Worth before the season begins is in order, don’t you think, dear?”

Charlotte pouted. “Not Worth, Mama, he’s
démodé
. Poiret is the place to be dressed now. And it isn’t just Ada. I shall need a whole new wardrobe. My ball dresses are very much last season.”

“Right as always, my dear.” Fiona examined Ada again. “I have been observing you move, and it really will not do. You shall have to have dancing lessons.”

Ada colored even more. “I can dance,” she protested.

“Not to the standard required for a state ball. Your movement shows that—there is a certain lack of grace, an energy that men find very unattractive.”

“Nothing worse than an energetic woman,” murmured Sebastian, giving Ada a sympathetic glance. Ada smiled gratefully. She was beginning to appreciate Sebastian’s presence very much.

“Oh dear, then I don’t think I shall ever manage to find a husband,” said Georgiana in horror.

Ada couldn’t help but laugh. “Nonsense, of course you will,” she said.

“Yes,
someone
will be prepared to take you off Lord Westlake’s hands eventually,” said Charlotte.

Ada’s laugh disappeared, and she was suddenly furious. No one should talk to her beloved sister like that!

“As it happens, I have always thought a cultivated mind more important than a cultivated wardrobe,” she retorted.

“Oh goodness, you don’t mean to tell me you’re one of those suffragettes?” Charlotte recoiled.

“I believe in women’s right to vote, if that’s what you mean.” Ada looked firmly back at her.

Fiona looked down her nose at Ada. “Well, may I beg you not to admit to anything so vulgar when we are in company, my dear?” she said. “No man likes a bluestocking.”

“Bluestocking, you say?” William brayed from the other end of the table. He was swaying slightly and he had spilled red wine on the tablecloth. “I remember that of you, Ada. Always with your beak in a book.”

Ada did not know where to look—not because she was embarrassed about being a reader, but because she was ashamed of William’s obvious drunkenness. He did not seem to have noticed her father’s expression of anger and contempt or Sebastian’s sarcastic smile. Ada cringed. Whatever William’s faults, he was an Averley, and his behavior reflected badly on her and Georgiana also.

Lady Edith did not seem to feel the embarrassment. She had lifted her pug dog onto her lap and was cooing over it. She glanced up to say, “I don’t read myself. It tires the brain.”

“It would, in your case,” Ada said, under her breath. Sebastian subtly raised his glass to her across the table, a smile creasing the corner of his eyes. But Ada could not smile back. Suddenly the season seemed a daunting prospect. The possibility of letting her family down glared at her. How could she not have known her clothes were out of style, her complexion not quite the thing, and her movements as elegant as a cart horse’s?

As they rose from the table, Charlotte spoke to Ada. “You must be feeling terribly homesick for India,” she said.

Ada wondered if she was trying to make up for her earlier bad temper. They were to be sisters after all—they had to stay on good terms. She decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I am,” she said sincerely. “I miss the sounds and the sights and even the smells—”

“Well, don’t worry.” They were passing through the door now toward the drawing room, while the men lit up cigars behind them. Charlotte dropped her voice as the passageway squeezed them close together. “You may be back there sooner than you think.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why, what do you think girls do when their season fails—when no one wants them? They go to India and see who will have them out there.” She gave Ada one of her dazzling smiles and swept ahead into the drawing room, triumph radiating from her straight back and glimmering in the sequins on her dress. Ada pressed her lips together in a brave effort not to make a very unladylike retort.

As Rose walked down the servants’ passage, she could hear Martha and Tobias gossiping in the kitchen as Martha tidied up.

“So there’s something fishy about the master’s resignation? Who would have thought it? I’ll bear that in mind next time he’s reading prayers,” Martha said.

“Pretty clear from the way they were talking about it, I’d say,” Tobias answered her. “Sounds like he’s done something disgraceful. Wonder if Mrs. Templeton knows?”

Rose quickened her step. Martha had a hard job, but she was spiteful too. Trying not to think about what she had heard, she ran up the servants’ stairs and opened the door onto the second floor. She jumped as she came face to face with an Indian girl dressed in a maid’s uniform. The girl gasped and curtsied.

Rose laughed. “You don’t have to curtsy to me!”

“I’m sorry, miss. I’m not sure—I didn’t know—I’m lost.” The girl was the most dark-skinned person Rose had ever seen, and her eyes gleamed like the polished mahogany furniture in the drawing room. Rose tried not to stare.

“Who are you? Did you come with the family from India?” she asked.

“Yes. My name’s Priya. I’m the nursemaid—only I can’t find the nursery.” She half laughed, and her voice wobbled. “Everything’s so new here. And I don’t know who I’m allowed to talk to.”

“You poor thing. Never mind, I’ll show you the way.” Rose tucked Priya’s hand under her arm and set off toward the nursery. “I’m Rose. You can talk to me, anyway—I’m the young ladies’ maid.”

Priya looked around, awestruck, as they went along the corridor. “I don’t know how I’ll ever find my way around here.… Tell me, is young Augustus always this naughty?”

“Yes! I don’t envy you your job,” Rose said with feeling. “But hasn’t anyone shown you around?”

Priya sighed. “I tried to ask them in the kitchen, but the cook screamed when she saw me, so I thought I had better go away.” She caught Rose’s eye, and they both started giggling.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,” Rose managed. “Only I can just imagine Cook doing that. Did she drop anything?”

“Yes, the chickens!” Priya put a hand to her mouth. “And they went onto the dinner table, I’m sure of it!”

“Oh well, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Rose left Priya at the door to the nursery. The girl smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you. I hope we see each other again.”

“So do I,” said Rose. She wondered if they would. Both of them were going to be so busy, and there was little opportunity to meet and have friends. She missed Annie more than ever.

On a whim, she took the main stairs, down into the east wing. She was allowed to do this now, she reminded herself. She no longer had to scuttle like a mouse behind the wainscot. But she also knew she was not really at home. She had no right to do what she was about to do. And even though she had done it hundreds of times, her heart still skipped a beat as she pushed open the door of the music room.

Now that the young ladies slept in the rooms along this corridor, there would not be another chance to come here. It was not the way it used to be, when the piano was shrouded in a dust sheet and the carpet rolled back. It was not hers anymore.

Sheets of music were scattered across the piano, and a chair was drawn up cozily to a music stand. Someone had adjusted the stool too; it did not fit her anymore. The lid was up. Like her, the room had changed.

She had never had any real right to be here, she knew that, but still it hurt to know that she would never be able to come back. It was only now that she realized what they had meant to her, those stolen moments when she escaped into music, her hesitant fingers searching out half-remembered folk tunes from her childhood on the piano. It felt as if she were weaving a magical web of color and light, an escape ladder from the daily drudgery.

She had only meant to look, but she could not resist pressing one key down, very gently and slowly. Deep inside the piano, she felt an answering thrum.

“Good-bye,” she whispered.