Page 29 of Lady for a Season
“I can undress myself,” said Maggie, drawing back.
“All ladies have help to dress and undress.”
“I am not a lady, as you know.”
“You are a lady while you remain in this house, Her Grace has decreed it so. Come.”
In the dressing room more items had been added, including a boot brush, a pretty lace fan, lavender soap for washing and a small bottle of rose perfume.
“We can buy something else in London,” said Celine. “My mother was very fond of rose perfume and taught me to make it. I made it from the roses that grow here at Atherton, but Her Grace does not wear it. She likes perfumes from the grand shops, from Paris especially.”
Maggie unstopped the tiny bottle and breathed in the sweet fragrance of the rose garden. “It is lovely,” she said, with real feeling and Celine smiled.
Celine undressed Maggie, who, despite feeling uncomfortable, complied. Celine, however, knew her business, for as soon as she was down to her shift she tried two of the dresses on Maggie, pinning and tucking and making little notes to herself, before giving her a clean shift.
“There. This one is my own, I will take your shift to be washed and it will be dry by the morning if I hang it before the fire.” She grew brisk. “I will send to Mrs Brooks in Atherton for underclothes, she can have them ready in under a week.” She took a measuring tape out of her pocket and measured Maggie’s waist, bust and hips, as well as her calves, then sat down at the dressing table and drew out a sheet of paper and a quill and began to write, murmuring under her breath. “Four caps, three chemisettes, two nightgowns, three petticoats, twelve shifts…”
“Twelve?”Maggie stared.
“…three short stays and two longline corsets.” Celine thought for a moment. “From the milliner, we will order three pairs of silk stockings and six of cotton for now. And ribbons to tie them.”
Silk stockings? Maggie could not even imagine such luxury.
“You will not be much in company while the house is in mourning. Later, when we travel to London, we can buy better silk stockings.” She gave a shrug, “The ones available locally are good enough, but not the finest. Her Grace will not wear them.”
“I have never worn silk,” Maggie said.
“Ah? Then you will find them well enough for now. Now for your shoes.” She glanced at Maggie’s worn boots and clearly found them wanting. “I will order slippers and a new pair of boots from the cobblers. They will do for now. In London, we will find what we require.”
Maggie could not imagine what Celine had in mind: what more could she possibly require?
“I will have one of the maids, Jane, attend you. I will oversee her, but as I must look after Her Grace, I will require help at dressing times.”
Maggie felt a rising panic. “What if she realises I am not a lady?”
Celine smiled. “She is from humble origins herself; she will not notice small signs that an experienced lady’s maid would spot. You need only let her do her work.”
Maggie tried to focus on her own concerns. “May I see where Edward will sleep?” If he should have nightmares, she would need to know her way to his room.
Once Maggie was re-dressed in her own grey wool, Celine led her out of the bedroom. “Would you like to see the ducal rooms?” she asked.
Maggie nodded, curious at why Edward found them so little to his taste.
Celine took her on a long walk, to a different part of the house.
“Her Grace’s rooms are there,” she said, indicating a door. “And the ducal rooms are here.”
The suite of rooms traditionally reserved for the Duke of Buckingham was both magnificent and unwelcoming. Maggie instantly saw why Edward disliked them. Made up of four rooms, there was a large bedroom, a comfortable dressing room, a small room intended for ablutions with a shining copper bath, and a private drawing room or study, with armchairs as well as a writing desk. Impressive though the suite was, the décorwas heavy and overbearing, with dark bulky furniture and an oppressive red as the main colour, making the rooms seem gloomy despite the large windows. Having four rooms all to one person made them feel empty rather than luxuriously opulent, as though one were alone and shut away from all human company. The suite might remind Edward of his past life at Ivy Cottage, where he had been kept in comfort but seeped in loneliness.
Since Edward had refused to use it, the ducal suite had been left to languish in darkness, its windows shuttered, and furniture draped over as though the rooms were closed up and the rightful owner absent. Celine and Maggie returned to the Wisteria Bedroom corridor, where Celine showed her the Iris Room, which shared a wall with Maggie’s bedroom. The Iris Room favoured rich purple, a little overpowering but less gloomy, and boasted only the main bedroom with a small dressing room, like Maggie’s.
On Maggie’s return to the nursery, she found the Duchess and Joseph with Edward.
“He cannot be dressed like that,” snapped the Duchess. “He looks like one of the farmers. Use his father’s and brother’s clothes for now, while new ones are ordered.”
“I will not wear their clothes.” Edward’s pale skin was flushed, his neck blotchy, hands in fists at his side as he stood with his back to the window.
“It will take at least a week to have new clothes made, even if a tailor comes here with his assistants and does nothing but cut and sew day and night.”
