Authors: Kathryn Kirkwood
“I shall be happy to do whatever you wish, my lady.” Melissa bobbed another curtsy.
“Thank you, Lissa. It is most gratifying to meet one so young who is both able and willing.”
“Lissa is a gem,” Mrs. Collins spoke up. “Now that she has finished the flowers for the ballroom, I will set her to fashioning centerpieces for the table.”
Lady Beckworth nodded. “Excellent. You are indeed a gem, Lissa. And I declare that if you could only work a miracle with this hair of mine, I would pronounce you a diamond of the first water.”
“I would be happy to attempt it, my lady.” Melissa bobbed her head again. “One of my duties is as Lady Harrington’s dresser.”
Lady Beckworth blinked once in astonishment and then she gave a delighted laugh. “How wonderful! My dresser has also been taken ill and I have need of another. When you have finished with the centerpieces, Mrs. Collins shall send you to my chambers. If you are as talented as I believe you are, I shall be the envy of every woman here tonight!”
Melissa was smiling as the footman escorted her to the servants’ door of the rented house. Lady Beckworth had been most appreciative of her efforts, declaring that her toilette had never been accomplished with such style and fashion and bestowing upon “Lissa” several lovely gowns that she claimed were no longer in mode. Melissa planned to alter them to augment her own sparse wardrobe and she was eagerly looking forward to the task.
“I shall arrive promptly at seven to convey you.” The footman surveyed Melissa with new interest. He had heard that she had been elevated in status and was now quite the apple of Lady Beckworth’s eye. Indeed, Lady Beckworth had ordered him to carry her home in her own conveyance and to fetch her again, without fail, before the party commenced. Any servant his mistress regarded as this indispensable was bound to be worthier than he had originally thought, and he had come to regard Lissa as a girl of no ordinary consequence.
“Thank you.” Melissa dipped her head to the distinguished footman. “I shall be ready when you arrive.”
The house was empty when Melissa entered and she sent a grateful prayer heavenward for this respite. She knew that she would not be alone for long. Her stepmother and stepsisters must arrive in short order for they had not many hours before the ball commenced and they would need time to complete their toilettes. Melissa took a moment to fetch a hot cup of tea to revive herself,
and then she hurried up to her bedchamber with the clothing that Lady Beckworth had given her. She had just hung the new gowns in her wardrobe when a carriage pulled up in front of the house and her stepmother and stepsisters disembarked.
“Lissa! Come and put yourself to good use!”
Jane’s voice was a shrill demand and Melissa fairly flew down the staircase. Her stepmother was standing beside a growing pile of parcels which were being unloaded from the carriage.
“Carry these in and be quick about it. We have no time to waste if we are to look our best tonight.” Jane pointed to a large parcel at the bottom of the heap. “That gown will have to be pressed before Dorothea can wear it.”
The next hour was a whirl of frenzied activity that found Melissa at the hub. She stored away all the items they had purchased, pressed Dorothea’s new gown, removed a spot from the pair of gloves which Jane wished to wear, located a misplaced slipper, brushed the nap of Dorothea’s blue velvet pelisse, and assisted all three women in their toilettes. During this time, the opportunity to tell her stepmother of the ruse she had affected did not present itself. It was not until her stepmother and stepsisters were sitting down to a light refreshment that Melissa had a moment to inform Jane that she had played the role of her servant, Lissa, at the Beckworth Mansion.
“Clever girl!” Jane put down her teacup and favored Melissa with a rare smile. “And you say they were pleased with you?”
Melissa nodded. “I believe so. Lady Beckworth asked that I return to assist her housekeeper at the ball.”
“But how are you to get there?” Jane’s lips tightened. “It would not be proper to permit a mere servant to ride with us in the carriage.”
Melissa stifled a sigh. It was apparent that Jane had no compunction whatsoever about regarding her as a servant. “There is no need to disoblige yourself. Lady Beckworth is sending a carriage to carry me to the mansion.”
“How very odd!” Jane’s eyes widened. “Lady Beckworth is sending a carriage for you?”
“Yes. If there is nothing further you wish of me, I must put on a clean gown so that I am ready when it arrives.”
Melissa was almost at the door when her stepmother called her back. “There is one other thing, Melissa. If we should meet by chance at the ball this evening, you must needs remember to treat us with the proper deference.”
“Yes, my lady.” Melissa bobbed her head in the manner of a servant and was gratified to see that both Regina and Dorothea were stifling their amusement at her parody. “I shall be certain to do so.”
This reply seemed to satisfy Jane for she waved her dismissal. “Off with you then. It would be very bad
ton
to keep Lady Beckworth’s coachman cooling his heels in her carriage.”
Robert Whiting, Duke of Oakwood, was not enjoying a pleasant afternoon. His day had begun at half past noon when he had awakened blurry-eyed and with a frightful pain in his head. His valet had hurried to fetch a vile potion that he guaranteed would put his grace to rights again and Robert had choked it down. Either the libations at Boodle’s were not up to scratch, or his person was rebelling against several consecutive nights spent gaming at that gentlemen’s club. If he were not careful, he should turn into a tosspot in his effort to avoid the other, more genteel amusements of the current London Season.
The message from his mother had come shortly before tea time and it had not been the usual polite request to join her, his elder sister and her husband, and his uncle for refreshment and social converse in the Drawing Room. It had been a summons, pure and simple, and by the particular words the duchess had chosen, Robert knew that his presence was not only required but also demanded.
Robert sighed, approaching the Drawing Room door with heavy steps. He surmised he knew precisely what turn this meeting would take and he did not like it. There had been enough gentle hints, over the past two years, and Robert was no fool.
It was true that it was past time for him to marry. Most of his friends had married long ago, and only the most hardened bachelor could resist much longer. He was two-and-thirty, still unmarried, and quite the most eligible catch of the past six Seasons. There was no doubt whatsoever, in Robert’s mind, that the members of his family had gathered together for one sole purpose, to apprise him once again of his ducal obligations and to urge him to take a wife before the year was out and to set up his nursery in short order.
Robert squared his shoulders, wiped the scowl off his handsome face, and ran his fingers through his wheat-colored hair. He prayed his eyes were not as bloodshot as they felt and took a deep breath for courage. His mother undoubtedly had some young lady in mind for him. He had met the previous three, very nice girls if the truth were told, and had neatly arranged to discourage their interest without causing them any pain. How much longer he could continue to perform such a feat, Robert wasn’t certain. The last young lady had been most persistent and only by making a spectacle of himself at a gaming hell her brother was wont to frequent, had he managed to thwart her desire to marry him.
Robert had searched his heart and found it empty of love for anyone other than his family. He could honestly claim that he had never been pierced by cupid’s arrow or found himself drawn inexorably to a particular young lady. That he liked the young ladies was well evident, and he enjoyed himself greatly in their company. But as far as settling down with one in particular, he had never found himself inclined of the slightest desire to do so.
There was no help for it. He was obliged to listen to his family’s concerns. Robert approached the door to the Drawing Room with a heavy heart and wondered in what manner he could extricate himself from their well-meaning advice. He had duly met a bevy of young ladies and had found them wanting. To blatantly say so would be cruel and Robert was never cruel. He preferred to discourage the hopefuls in other ways, by pretending
to be a gamester, or a rake, or whatever would cause them to lose interest in him.
“Robert, dear.” His mother spied him in the doorway and motioned for him to come in. “How kind in you to have come at last. Sit here beside me. We have something we wish to discuss with you.”
“Mother.” Robert dropped a kiss on her cheek and took the proffered seat. He had been correct in thinking that the whole family would be here. His sister, Lucinda, was seated on the sofa with her husband, and his uncle Lawrence, the Marquis of Pembrook, was resting his heavy bulk in the oversized chair in front of the window.
Social pleasantries were exchanged for several minutes. Yes, Robert was aware that this was a lovely day. No, he had not as yet sampled cook’s strawberry tarts. And yes, he had noticed the new team of matched bays that his uncle had purchased at Tattersol’s, high-steppers to be certain and not a penny too dear for such remarkable cattle. When the political news of the day had been discussed and the Regent’s newest escapades had been cited, the conversation had turned to the entertainments of the current Season and Robert sensed that the true subject of this gathering was about to be broached.
“You are aware that Lady Beckworth’s ball is this evening?” His mother looked up at him with guileless eyes.
“Yes, Mother.” Robert nodded. There had been talk of nothing else for several days. It was the reason his sister and her husband had journeyed to London from Trelane Manor, their country estate. Lady Beckworth had been his mother’s bosom bow and attending “Aunt Sarah’s” ball
en masse
had become an annual family event. Robert had begged off this year, much to his mother’s distress, but he had held firm in his wish to avoid the first big event of the Season. On the day following Lady Sarah’s ball, Robert’s mother, his sister and her husband, and his twin nephews would depart for Oakwood Castle where they would stay the summer months.
“Unfortunately, your uncle is unable to attend the ball.”
Robert’s mother sighed deeply. “Since he has already tendered his acceptance, it will be an awkward situation, I fear. Dear Sarah has planned the seating to perfection and she will be quite overset to have a lady without a partner. I suppose I must forgo the pleasure of attending so that her numbers will be even.”
Four pairs of eyes turned to gaze at him and Robert sighed. He knew exactly what was expected of him, but the last thing he wished to do was to attend Aunt Sarah’s ball.
“And I had been so looking forward to this evening!”
His mother sighed quite convincingly and Robert found himself the object of close scrutiny again. To refuse to escort his mother would be churlish.
“You win, madame.” Robert grinned down at her. “I’ll partner you. But if you try to introduce me to one more young hopeful, I’ll—”
“Why, Robert! I had no intention of doing any such thing!” His mother interrupted, assuming an expression of outraged innocence.
Robert smiled down at her and tweaked her nose. “Of course not, Mother. I have no reason in the world to suspect you. It’s not as if you’ve attempted to accomplish similar introductions in the past.”
His mother burst into laughter and his sister followed suit. Soon everyone in the room was laughing and while they were all merry, Robert took his leave. It was not until he was back in his bedchamber, considering which attire to don for Aunt Sarah’s ball, that he realized he had played very neatly into his mother’s hand. Though he had vowed to take no part in the current Season, he had willingly agreed to attend the Season’s first entertainment and by doing so, everyone of consequence would assume that he was once again in the petticoat line.
When Melissa had arrived at the Beckworth Mansion, Mrs. Collins had put her to work immediately, stationing Lissa at a position near the ladies’ withdrawing room. The trusted servant who regularly assumed this position had taken ill and the other servants were needed elsewhere. Mrs. Collins had also confided, in an undertone that none of her staff could hear, that Lady Beckworth, herself, had suggested Melissa for this sensitive duty. Lissa was in charge of assisting the ladies in repairing their toilettes and taking charge of their outer garments.
The position in which she found herself was much to Melissa’s liking. Her vantage point enabled her to view the guests as they arrived in all their finery and afforded her the opportunity to see with her own eyes precisely which styles were in the first stare of fashion.
Melissa had been rushing to and fro for the better part of an hour when her stepmother and her stepsisters arrived. Regina was wearing her new cloak and Melissa thought it suited her very well indeed. It was made of a particularly beautiful embroidered silk and Jane had purchased it for her eldest daughter at the shop of the fashionable modiste they had patronized earlier in the day.
Both Dorothea and Regina smiled at Melissa in a friendly manner, but Jane quickly gave them a warning glance. Both girls immediately assumed neutral expressions and nodded slightly, the proper greeting from a lady of quality to a servant.
After Melissa had taken charge of her stepmother’s evening cloak, Jane took a moment to speak with her.
“I have need of you, Lissa.” Jane’s manner was condescending and her voice had the tone she assumed to direct their servants. “A passing coach has splattered the hem of my daughter’s cloak. See that it is cleaned before the stain becomes set.”
“Yes, my lady. I should be happy to do so.” Melissa bobbed a quick curtsy, but inwardly she was fuming. There had been no others nearby to hear their converse and provide a reason for Jane’s curt treatment of her. This incident caused Melissa to suspect that Jane took perverse enjoyment in regarding her as merely a servant. As such, Jane would have no reason to feel the slightest amount of guilt for squandering the funds that had been allocated for Melissa’s Season.