by Val Wood
Matt took Annie and the dress down to Mrs Trott and told her what he wanted her to do. She took the dress from him and handled it softly, drawing its silkiness through her fingers.
‘I remember it,’ she nodded. ‘It was your mother’s. Only she never wore it. She got took ill and it was put away in a chest and never brought out. I often wondered what happened to it.’
‘Tidy it up, will you, Mrs Trott? It’s badly creased and I have it in mind to give it as a present for someone. Oh, yes—. Mrs Hope and I have a wager on. She said that she could never look like a lady, and I said that if you dressed her hair, the way you used to my mother’s, then she could – that there was no-one more expert than you. What about it? Can you help me win the pledge?’
‘I reckon she needs to win ’pledge more than thee, Captain Linton, tha doesn’t need money, of that I’m sure.’ A gleam came into her eye. ‘It’s been a long time, a long, long time since I dressed my lady’s hair, but aye, I reckon I can still do it.’ She glanced at Annie who still felt there was a trace of animosity lingering towards her. ‘It’ll be a challenge mind, but aye, I’ll try.’
By the time the three weeks had passed and Matt was due to return, Mrs Trott had once more become an expert. Annie’s hair had been washed and brushed and washed and brushed until her scalp was sore, but her hair was shining like a mirror, and as soft and luxuriant as silk, and Mrs Trott had piled and pinned the long straight tresses into various styles. Finally she decided. ‘Tha hasn’t got ’type of hair for owt elaborate. It’s too fine and silky. I’ll have to coil it. I’ll coil it over each ear and I’ll twist the back, and if tha was really going to a party or a ball, then I’d dress it through with flowers or pearls.’
Annie smiled secretly. ‘Tomorrow Captain Linton will be back. I’ll come in the morning and then we’ll be ready for him. Does tha think he’ll win his wager?’ she asked mischievously.
‘Aye,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve not been beaten.’
He came that night. He’d dropped anchor in Hessle Haven and rowed to shore bringing with him a circlet of pearls to match the necklace. ‘You can wear it in your hair tomorrow,’ he said. ‘That’s what the proper ladies do.’
‘I know,’ she laughed. ‘I’ve just been told.’
* * *
Matt carried a leather valise; Annie’s dress, which was wrapped in a cotton sheet, he draped over his arm as they walked into Hessle where he had ordered a carriage for their journey to his father’s house.
Annie carefully covered her hair with her hood. She was wearing just a simple skirt and shirt beneath her cloak and would change at the inn at Welton where Matt had reserved two rooms.
‘Two rooms?’ she’d asked with a smile.
‘Of course,’ he answered. ‘Don’t forget that you are a respectable young widow, and that rumours can soon spread. It’s a very well-known inn and it’s possible that other guests of Mrs Burnby will be calling there.’
She was beginning to be nervous. Suppose someone guessed what she was? Suppose someone spoke in the foreign language of Dutch and engaged her in conversation? The only Dutch person that she had known was her late husband’s former captain on his whaling ship. She remembered his fair good looks and broken English accent. She fell silent and began mentally practising stilted conversation.
The carriage was already waiting for them at the Marquis of Granby Inn and Matt helped her in. She breathed in the smell of leather and commented. ‘It smells like a slaughter house.’
‘Ssh,’ he said. ‘You’re a lady. You’re not supposed to know about such things. You only know about music and theatres and fashion.’
‘But I don’t,’ she implored. ‘Matt – I don’t know. Only ’flutes and drums and shops that I’ve seen in ’Market Place in Hull.’
‘Then tell about those.’ He laughed at her. ‘Make up a story, I know full well that you can, and everyone will think that that’s the way it is in Holland. The ladies that you’ll meet tonight know nothing. They’ll believe everything you say.’
They swung into the coachyard of the inn in the small village of Welton at the foot of the Wolds and he whispered into her ear. ‘Now don’t forget, you’re foreign. You don’t understand. Just nod and smile if I should speak to you.’
The innkeeper’s wife took charge of her when Matt explained that she spoke little English, and would require the services of a maid to help her dress. She stared wide-eyed at him but dare not speak. What was he thinking of? She was perfectly capable of dressing herself.
He handed the dress to the landlady and then unclasped his valise and took out another bag which he handed to Annie and spoke in a language which she didn’t understand. He gave her a small bow and then turned and went upstairs.
Annie watched him go and then turned to the landlady with a question in her raised eyebrows.
‘Molly will look after you, ma’am,’ the woman shouted at her. ‘She’s here now.’
A young girl in cap and apron appeared and she too shouted instructions at Annie to please follow her.
Do they think I’m deaf? she wondered as she followed the girl to her room. Or stupid, not being able to dress myself?
The room was warm and comforting with a four-poster bed draped with thick hangings and beside the fire was a table with a bowl and jug of hot water and warm white towels upon it.
‘I’ll just fetch thee refreshment ma’am, like ’gentleman said,’ the girl shouted. ‘Tha’ll be tired after thy long journey. Then I’ll help thee dress.’
‘Excuse, please.’ Annie pointed to her ear and shook her head. ‘I not deaf.’
The girl nodded. ‘Aye, that’s right, I expect, ma’am,’ and giving Annie a bright smile she bobbed her knee and went out of the room.
Annie chortled with laughter and taking off her cloak, bounced on the bed testing it for comfort. She stretched herself luxuriantly, how wonderful to sleep in such a bed. She closed her eyes for a moment, then remembering that soon Matt would be coming for her, she climbed off and unbuttoned her skirt and shirt and pouring water into the bowl began to wash. She remembered the bag which Matt had given her and wondered what was in it. She picked it up from the chair where she had left it and opened it. Inside was a silk underslip and petticoat, white stockings and a pair of white kid shoes, and long, elbow-length gloves. She delved to the bottom of the bag, something else was there. She held the garment up. Pantaloons!
She laughed and took off her shift and put them on and paraded in front of the oval swing mirror. She had never worn such things. How strange it felt to have her legs encased in such a fashion. She picked up the underslip and petticoat with a happy exclamation and pressed their softness to her cheeks. How thoughtful of him to think of such things. Then she reflected wryly on how he would have known what to buy. But she dismissed the thought. He’d had a life before her, what of it? Now was the time that mattered.
She stuffed the old shift in the bag and continued her bathing. The maid, Molly, came in bearing a tray with a bottle of wine and two glasses and a plate of thin slices of beef. She stared at Annie standing almost naked before the fire and hurriedly closed the door.
‘Dear me,’ she muttered. ‘I knew foreigners did strange things, but teckin’ all their clothes off, well I never!’
Later, she poured Annie a glass of wine which she slowly sipped, and then helped her into her stockings, underslip and petticoat. She took the gown from its wrap and shook it and invited Annie, by way of nodding and pointing, to step into it.
It was like looking at someone else in the mirror. It certainly didn’t seem like her. She didn’t know that she had such fine cheekbones, shown to such an advantage with her hair drawn away from her face, dressed with pearls and coiled and twisted about her ears. And the gown, how it showed off her slenderness as it nipped her waist and pushed up her breasts to swell the heartshaped neckline.
She fingered the pearls about her throat. Matt had been right, they glistened much more since she had worn them, now they
had a lustrous sheen as they nestled so comfortably on her pale throat.
There was a knock on the door and Molly hurried to answer it.
‘Is Mrs Hope almost ready?’
Annie turned from the mirror to see Matt standing there in naval uniform with white breeches and stockings and carrying a tricorne hat. He looked so handsome she wanted to run and put her arms around him.
‘She’s almost ready sir.’ Even Molly seemed overawed as she stared at him, then remembering herself, she bobbed her knee.
‘Please. Come in, Captain.’ Annie extended her hand. ‘I am ready.’
Matt brushed past the maid and took Annie’s hand and bending low, kissed it. ‘You are beautiful,’ he murmured.
The maid watched the handsome couple, her eyes shining and her mouth open. ‘Oh, sir,’ she said. ‘Isn’t madam lovely? Beggin’ her pardon, and I know it’s not my place to comment, and it doesn’t seem right talking of her when she doesn’t understand – but she looks so handsome.’
Matt smiled, ‘I’m quite sure that she wouldn’t mind in the least. I’ll convey your comments once we are on our journey.’
Molly dipped her knee again and went out, closing the door after her. Matt strode after her and opened it again and heard her cry out to the landlady. ‘Oh, mum. What a handsome pair. And so in love, tha can tell.’
‘How handsome you look.’ Annie put out her hands to hold his.
‘My father says that I am not a proper seaman, because I don’t wear a uniform or gold braid.’ There was a note of bitterness in his voice and he fingered the gilt buttons on his frock coat. ‘So I’m going to show him how I would look if I wanted to.’
He tipped up his hat. ‘Here. Here is our disguise.’ Tucked inside the hat were two masks, one in white silk for her and one in black for him. ‘We’ll put them on now to go down to the carriage.’ He gave her a sudden smile. ‘The fun is about to begin, Annie. You are a beautiful but penniless Dutch widow, and I a respectable naval captain. And not one of my father’s honourable and dignified acquaintances could begin to guess otherwise.’
25
The party was due to start at ten o’clock and it was twenty-minutes-past-the-hour as they rattled up the sweeping, winding drive to the house. Annie peeped out of the carriage window. It was just as she remembered it. An imposing residence built of stone with pillars gracing the massive front door.
‘I’m that frightened, Matt. ’Last time I was here, I went to ’back door. I had to wash my hands and tidy my hair afore I could go and see ’mistress.’ In her nervousness she slipped back into her own comfortable dialect.
He took her hand. ‘Don’t be frightened. They won’t eat you, and Mrs Burnby won’t possibly remember, nor will Clara or Jane if they’re here.’
She gasped. She hadn’t thought about those two young women being at the party. She fingered her mask. They wouldn’t recognize her of course. Not dressed like this and with her hair up. Besides, she’d noticed that they hadn’t really looked at her previously, not even when they were speaking to her. It was as if she was nothing, as if she wasn’t there.
The wide hall with its stone-flagged floor and a long table groaning with food and drink, was already crowded with guests in party dress. Roman emperors and Greeks roamed the room – men in togas with thonged sandals strapped on their feet and laurel circlets on their heads. A shepherd was there with his smock and crook, and ladies as duchesses and dairy maids simpered and giggled and admired as they fluttered their eyelashes behind their masks.
‘Captain Linton? It is you?’ Mrs Burnby, resplendent in red wig and powdered face as Queen Elizabeth, bore down on them. Her extravagant dress of velvet, trimmed with satin and lace floated above a farthingale, and a gauze ruff rose like wings above and behind her head. ‘I could tell, your smile gives you away. And this lovely lady? Please present her.’
Matt bowed. ‘I thought, ma’am, that we were to remain an enigma until the end of the evening?’
‘Oh, but not to me, dear boy. I must know who my guests are, particularly such a lovely one as this. How perfectly charming.’
‘May I present Mrs Annaliese Hope. I regret that she is unable to engage in conversation, her English is limited I fear. She is Dutch, erm – a widow. I knew her husband, a sea captain like myself.’
Annie threw him a dazzling smile as she inclined her head to her hostess. Why he could tell a better tale than she could. And Mrs Burnby, was it really her? The quietly spoken mistress of the house who had bought her cloth, bore no resemblance to the elaborately dressed apparition greeting her now. Perhaps this evening would be fun after all. She took a glass of wine proffered from a passing footman and drank, the bubbles effervesced and made her hiccup. She finished it off, it wasn’t strong, not like gin or brandy and she took another, and with her other hand on Matt’s arm they circled the floor, nodding and smiling until they reached the wide staircase and ascended it to the ballroom.
‘You see the tall man without the mask? Over by the window. He’s the one who turned me off his land.’ She whispered from behind her gloved hand. ‘And the one talking to him – the rolypoly with the powdered wig – he’s one of my contacts. He takes brandy and geneva and tobacco.’
‘Does he indeed?’ Matt gave a sardonic chuckle. ‘Beddows! He’s a pillar of society. He’s a magistrate; he’s raised a company of militia men to keep our shores safe from the enemy and to prevent smuggling – and you tell me he barters with the self-same smugglers! Well, I can tell you, he doesn’t do it because of want or necessity as most of the suffering classes do, he’s well able to pay duty, so he does it because of greed. And,’ he added ironically, ‘the man with him is my father!’
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I know.’ She too gave a chuckle. ‘Why don’t you introduce me? Let’s see if they remember me. Mr Beddows first met me when I was dressed in coat and breeches. I told him I was Toby’s partner and collected money from him. I also said that I would be sending a woman with the goods and that he must be sure to take them from her in person. He did, and pinched my bottom into the bargain.’
Squire Linton looked closely at Annie as Matt made the introductions, and then gave a bow. ‘Coming to your senses at last are you?’ he barked at Matt. ‘About time you settled down. You say she doesn’t speak English? Well, give me a woman who doesn’t have much to say, anytime.’ He guffawed. ‘There’s plenty of other things they can do, what?’
‘I said she doesn’t speak much English, Father,’ Matt said stiffly. ‘I’m quite sure she can understand your meaning.’
‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy, Matthias. I don’t mean harm.’ He invited Annie to sit. ‘She’s handsome, I’ll say that for her.’
Matt spoke again to her in a language she didn’t understand, and then to her horror he moved away, ‘Take care of her for a moment, Father. There’s someone I must speak to.’
Mr Beddows bowed to her and he too moved away and left her alone with Matt’s father. ‘So you’re a widow are you?’ he boomed. ‘And looking for another husband, no doubt?’
Annie gave a genial smile and nodded her head, and then shrugged and pursed her lips.
‘You’ll have some money, I expect. Did your husband leave you much?’ His voice carried and several people turned round with raised eyebrows and a smile on their faces.
‘Excuse me please?’
‘Money,’ he said, rubbing his fingers together, ‘You know,’ he patted his coat and brought out a money bag. ‘Do you have any?’
‘Ah.’ Annie brought an expression of comprehension to her face, then sadly turned down her lips and shook her head. ‘Nay, no money.’
‘Oh well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Matt will have plenty one day; if he stops fooling around that is, and comes back home.’ He folded his arms and viewed her. ‘Pity you can’t understand. I’d like to have had a chat. Don’t get the chance to talk to pretty young women these days. Used to though, by jove I did. You wouldn’t think so now, but I was quite handsome. Aye, t
he ladies used to follow me around.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘That was my problem – I couldn’t resist.’
He fell silent and Annie glanced at him from behind her mask. He was still handsome, more so than she remembered, for on the day he’d ordered her off his land he was dressed in a shooting jacket and dirty breeches, and now he was wearing a silver-grey tailcoat, unbuttoned to show a silver embroidered waistcoat that was a perfect foil for his thick, silver-streaked dark hair. He was a tall, thin man and wore black sateen breeches and white silk stockings on his long legs. Yes, she thought, he could still turn a woman’s head.
He pointed across the room to where Matt was engaged in conversation with two ladies, both with nodding plumes in their piled high hair and wearing black masks. ‘You see the one in blue?’
She followed the direction of his finger, it was Clara with Jane, she was sure of it.
‘Well that young filly was set on my youngest boy at one time – Tobias. He was much too young then to think of marrying, and she was a prissy little madam, not good enough for one of my sons.’ He sighed and glanced at Annie. ‘He died you know,’ he said softly. ‘Well of course, you wouldn’t know. Yes, he died of a fever. Such a waste. Such a waste.’
He took out a linen handkerchief and blew his nose, then he gave a croaky laugh. ‘He was always a rascal. After he left home, he used to steal things. Whenever he visited there would be something missing. I suppose he thought I wouldn’t notice, but I did. Just trinkets and stuff, you know. His mother always spoilt him when he was a child,’ he went on, talking as if to himself. ‘I warned her, but she wouldn’t listen. My own fault I suppose, for I wouldn’t let her spoil Matthias. I told her – this boy will have responsibilities.’ He gazed into the distance as if remembering. ‘He was a fine young fellow – perhaps I was too hard on him – I don’t know. And now he can barely bring himself to talk to me.’ He sighed. ‘It’s not easy bringing up sons.’
She could almost have felt sorry for him, until she remembered his treatment of her, when he was prepared to deny her shelter on a cold winter’s night.
