by Lisa Prysock
When Winnie peeked around the two dressing screens off to the side of the dressing table, she found they hid a deep copper bathing tub, much nicer than a mere hip bath. She stood there staring at it with absolute delight at the pleasure before her. A three tiered brass rack held fresh, luxurious linens. A basket on the floor nearby contained lavender, violet, and lemongrass scented soaps in a variety of exquisitely molded shapes and sizes. Catherine thought she would run about the room in exultation except for the fact the staff would think she had gone mad. The footman who’d brought up her trunk returned twice more with wood for the fire. The maid who had brought up her portmanteau carried in a fresh pile of extra blankets and sheets to place inside the hope chest at the foot of the bed. Beatrice, the only maid whose name she could remember, continued to hang her gowns on the hooks inside the wardrobe. Her mind couldn’t help but wander for a moment to consider how joyous her sister, Corabelle, would be to see her in such surroundings. She resisted the urge to jump onto the bed.
When the other servants had disappeared and left Beatrice to finish unpacking her trunk, she realized the journey had indeed made her weary. It felt wonderful to shed the travel suit and change into a comfortable wrapper and nightgown. The comforts about her and crackling of the fire soothed her nerves as she untied the wrapper and climbed into the tall bed, using the foot stool to access the top of the bed. She pulled pins out of her hair and reached over to place them on the nightstand, trying not to laugh that she had to climb on hands and knees to even reach the stand. Her bed at home was tall also, but not a double bed such as this, and certainly not so high. She and Corabelle each had single canopy beds with ordinary quilts, crisp white linen curtains, and rag rugs which adorned the floor at home. Her hair loose from the bun at the crown of her head, she sank into the pillows and pulled the coverlet up close beneath her chin. She soon drifted off to sleep for a long nap in the manner of most ladies, thankful that the maid who assisted her was not overly chatty.
Beatrice returned promptly at half past six in the evening to wake and assist her with dressing for dinner. To her surprise, Miss Lyndon was awake, dressed, and her hair styled. She wore a midnight blue, empire waisted, long sleeved, satin gown with a demi-train. The dress featured a square neckline and puffed sleeves that narrowed above the elbow so she need only wear black gloves to the wrist. A wide, midnight blue, satin belt cinched a black overdress of gossamer netting that wrapped over the bodice before flowing to twelve inches above the hem of the satin gown beneath. Winnie wore the midnight blue satin mules that the village cobbler had repaired twice; once for Caroline, and once for Careen when she had inherited the dress. She could only pray the low heeled shoes would hold up. Corabelle had been visibly upset that the dress and matching mules had skipped over her to be given to Catherine for the express purpose of outfitting her properly to accompany the children of a Duchess in a number of any possible social settings.
Catherine stood back and surveyed the dress in the long dressing table mirror. Nervously, she observed that Caroline and Careen had worn the dress gently and Mama had been able to make adjustments that had improved the appearance of the gown. It was still a very fashionable gown, though certainly not new. She sat down at the dressing table to put the finishing touches on her appearance. This evening would be an important dinner as she would be making first impressions upon Lady Anne-Marie and Lady Amiée-Josephine before her employer and guests of Hillbrook Hall.
“I didn’t expect you to be awake and dressed, Miss Lyndon,” Beatrice said with alarm when she found her sitting at the dressing table completing her toilette. “My apologies for being late to assist you…”
“’Tis no problem,” Winnie replied, setting the maid at ease. “I am accustomed to not having much assistance at home in Chelmsford. With three older sisters and my mother to dress, I rarely have any help at all unless great sacrifices are made.”
“Your hair looks beautiful, though I am prepared to restyle it for you if you desire. It doesn’t need restyling at all in my opinion,” Beatrice commented as she hovered about, inspecting the pearl and rhinestone edged combs in Winnie’s hair. She peered at the half dozen curls or so which Winnie had pinned around the bun at her crown. Three long spiral curls dangled down one side of her shoulder. “Your hair looks lovely! Let me just add a few pins before I dash off to help Lady Amiée-Jo…uh, I mean, Lady Amiée-Josephine. The Duchess always insisted we use her proper given name, but so often we forget.”
“Extra pins would be most helpful,” Winnie agreed. “What time is dinner?”
“Eight o’clock, in the formal dining room,” Beatrice answered, being careful not to stab Miss Lyndon with a hair pin. “The dining room is located at the first set of double doors to your right when you reach the bottom of the staircase, just off the foyer, Miss.”
“Call me Winnie… and thank you for the extra pins.” Winnie handed Beatrice a few more pins.
“Did you rest well?” Beatrice inquired.
“I did, thank you. I may explore some of the rooms below since I’m dressed early.”
“Oh, before I forget… in your travels, you will find the Duke in his library until dinner if you would like to join him there. He instructed me to mention this as he would prefer to escort you to dinner and formally introduce you to his siblings and the other guests.”
“That is very kind of the Duke,” Winnie replied, thankful for this bit of information. “I’m glad not to have been forgotten. Having proper introductions will help a great deal.”
“Oh, Miss Lyndon, you won’t be forgotten. You have a strikingly elegant appearance, grace, and poise. The Duke has spoken of little else since meeting you this afternoon.”
“You are the second person today that has told me something quite similar,” Winnie remarked with a tilt of her head as she applied a bit of jasmine scented perfume at her ears and wrists. She added pearl drop earrings and the maid latched the clasp on the pearl necklace with the cross shaped pendant.
“You look lovely!” Beatrice reached inside the wardrobe and fished through the shawls inside. Spotting one she approved of, she extracted a navy blue muslin shawl trimmed in dark blue satin with blue fringe and handed it to her. “I see this was made to match your gown. This will help keep the chill away from you at dinner and throughout the evening. “If you are satisfied, I’ll just run along and look in upon Lady Anne-Marie and Lady Amiée-Josephine before they start wreaking havoc on our souls.”
“Thank you and yes, I am satisfied. You have been most helpful. Please give my regards to Lady Anne-Marie and Lady Amiée-Josephine. I’m looking forward to meeting them. I very much enjoy that the Duchess gave them both French names.”
“They seem excited about having a companion,” Beatrice offered. “Pardon my rushing off, but they can be rather upset if I’m not punctual.”
“Of course,” Winnie nodded. “Just one question…”
“Yes, ma’am?” Beatrice halted, nearly to the door.
“If I were to desire a bath this evening, how would I request hot water?”
“Bernice and Laura, our parlor and house maids, usually haul heated water to the second floor bedrooms if you will tell me what time would be best?”
“Since I am to speak with the Duke more about my duties after dinner, would eleven o’clock be suitable, or too late?”
“No, ‘tis fine. I’ll have them begin bringing the water up at about a quarter to eleven. It’s boiling hot, so it will be about the right temperature by about eleven. I’ll see to it that they fill it.”
“Where do they drain the tub at?” Winnie inquired curiously.
“Right out that window nearest the tub facing the rear garden… when there is no company strolling in the garden, and by buckets lugged to the side window at the end of the upstairs hall when company is in residence,” Beatrice explained.
“I see,” Winnie nodded. “I’m sorry to cause you any delay. I was just curious.”
“Certainly,” the maid nodded a
s she tugged at the uniform cap worn over her coiled bun to be sure it was snug. “’Tis no trouble…” With that, Beatrice ducked out of the door in an instant.
Catherine made her way downstairs and seeing no one about, decided to explore the halls a little further. The main hall led her directly to a set of French doors leading outdoors to a veranda and the garden, from which she could see snow covered shrubs and brick paths. Feeling a little groggy from the afternoon nap, she hoped to step outside long enough to take in a breath of fresh air. She tried the handle and smiled to herself when the door opened. She stepped out onto the veranda where the icy cold air instantly covered her face and neck with a balmy kiss as she shut the door behind her. Pulling her shawl close about her shoulders, she stood still and looked out at snow covered meadows beneath a starry sky. It was a sight to behold even in the dark where the gleam of candles and lamps from the windows behind and above her cast a warm glow on the scene before her.
She closed her eyes and drank in a gulp of the refreshing air, smiling at the beauty of the moment in silent reverence before her Maker. She could feel Him looking down upon her from beyond the heavens. She had always seemed to have an intense feeling of connection to Him. Far from her cozy home where Mama would be stitching some piece of needlework, her sisters would be helping Betsy gather the supper dishes, and Father would be stoking a large fire to settle in with a book beside Mother’s rocking chair, the thought of her Heavenly Father looking down upon her from the very same sky was a comfort.
A strange scuffling noise beside her broke the quiet. When she opened her eyes, her mouth opened wide as she realized she was being welcomed by a large goose followed by her goslings as they surrounded her skirt. The goose made a honking sound and began pecking the portico stones dangerously close to her satin mules. The baby geese followed suit in mere seconds, taking lessons from their mother. Where had they come from?
“Shoo, shoo!” Desperate to keep a safe distance from them she tried to wave them away. Her efforts were rewarded with several firm pecks on the top of one of her shoes as they moved in closer. She spied a brick path leading to what looked to be a pond surrounded by trees in the distance. Surely the pond was frozen over… perhaps they had escaped from the barns beyond the drive.
They were pecking more vigorously when she realized she was standing directly on the remains of a few handfuls of feed that may have been left for them. She was the intruder upon their dinner. If she could reach the door quietly she would not be attacked or frighten the little flock. Their pecking grew more furious as they stabbed at the stones in search of any morsel. They were obviously hungry and trying to stay out of the snow drifts. Keeping her eyes on the flock steadily, very slowly, she took a step backwards reaching out for the door handle, but lost her balance in the process. At the same time, she heard one of the doors creak open from behind her, but her view of the flock and surroundings was obstructed by a shadow of movement blocking the light from behind. Immediately, she was caught by a pair of strong arms that enveloped her.
“Good evening, Miss Lyndon! It’s all right, I’ve got you!” The Duke’s firm, strong voice stunned her as much as being held up in his arms did.
“Uh, uh… oh thank you!” she stammered, her cheeks turning bright red as she regained her balance. She froze still in his arms against his dinner jacket as he pulled her close away from the goose and her following.
“One more step backwards and we’ll be in the house, though I could stay here all night with you like this, Miss Lyndon.”
She had no time to react to his statement as he drew her inside and firmly closed the doors, but it only flustered her more as she realized his strength when he set her back on her feet once inside the hall. He had lifted her as she moved with him, escaping the hazards of the hungry goose and her babies by mere seconds.
“I see you’ve met Bertha, our Christmas dinner,” he said with a chuckle as she checked her skirts for damages.
“Our Christmas dinner?” Gathering her composure, she laughed with him.
“Mrs. Childers is trying to fatten her up,” he explained.
“Evidently!” she remarked, still a shade of embarrassment.
“I have warm, spiced cider waiting for us in the library,” he said, leading them down the hall as she stole one last glance over her shoulder at the flock from which she had been spared.
Seated once again in the library before a warm fire, she removed her gloves and clasped her hands around the warm cup of cider. “I’m not entirely certain that scene would have ended so well had you not arrived when you did!”
“I don’t mind rescuing a damsel in distress from time to time.” Looking at the time on his pocket watch, he snapped the lid closed. “Do you find your arrangements satisfactory? Is everything to your liking in the Rose Room?”
“Everything is splendid! Thank you!” She sipped her cider nervously.
“You look stunning this evening, Miss Lyndon,” he said, causing her to blush deeper, “Even more beautiful than this afternoon. Where have you been hiding all of my life?”
“In the happy fields and meadows of Essex, I’m afraid,” taking another sip of cider and keeping her eyes straight ahead on the fireplace. “I am accustomed to leading a quiet and for the most part, uneventful but pleasant life in the countryside.”
“Well, tonight, you shall meet the silliest girls in all of England. I’m certain it will be lively and memorable.”
A quarter of an hour later-- after they spoke about the garden, a few of the merits of raising cattle and farming wheat fields, and the names of most of the staff at Hillbrook Hall, he escorted her to the formal dining room where the other guests were beginning to locate their seats. There was no table cloth to hide the beauty of the long, cherry wood table. Each place setting of fine china designated where guests were to sit by name with a place card. She was surprised when he pulled out the chair to his immediate right for her and then sat down at the head of the table when she was comfortably seated. A few of the ladies nodded in her direction from their pale blue cushioned chairs.
When the household guests were seated, bursting at the seams with ladies Winnie decided, he stood up and clanged his fork against a goblet. The female chatter died down and all eyes turned to look at the Duke. “Ladies, I would like to introduce you to the esteemed daughter of Vicar Edward and Mary Lyndon, the distinguished Miss Catherine Edwina Lyndon, from the outskirts of West Chelmsford. She comes to us as a companion for my dear sisters, employed by our dear mother some months ago before her passing, and highly recommended by our friend the Countess, Lady Sarah Fletcher. I would very much approve if you would each do your best to make her feel welcome among us.”
Greetings arose from all corners of the table and Winnie, smiled graciously and nodded in their direction. Kingston said a prayer, and the footmen commenced with serving the first course of brown onion soup and cheese toast as a lively conversation ensued. Everyone talked at once so that Winnie found her nerves calmed, the rest of the meal continuing on in an immensely enjoyable fashion.
Across from her, Lady Agnes Burke introduced herself without waiting for Kingston to do so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lyndon. I am Lady Agnes Burke, but everyone calls me Aggie.”
Following her lead to Winnie’s right, “I’m Lady Myriah, from Kent. Welcome to Hillbrook Hall! We have loads of fun here. I’m certain you will find the company excellent among our varied and merry group of friends.”
“It’s very nice to meet both of you,” Catherine returned. Talk soon turned to the events of the day and the weather. Aggie asked her about West Chelmsford, and Lady Myriah asked if she had ever been to Kent to see the Cathedral of Canterbury.
“We’ve any number of castles to tour. I grew up in a Tudor style house along the canal. We’ve many ports and gardens there. It’s very scenic,” Lady Myriah explained, glancing at the Duke. Catherine noticed he seemed to observe all from his seat at the head of the table but had little to say. She suppos
ed he was not only preoccupied with the codicil of the will or some such problem, and that if he engaged in too much of the conversation with the young ladies, they would think him forward, something he very much wished to avoid. Throughout the meal, he was selective and very much guarded over what and how he responded.
“I have been to Canterbury with my father as a young girl on a number of visits. The Cathedral is very lovely, Lady Myriah,” Catherine mentioned. “Father travels there annually with other bishops to meet with the Archbishop.”
“I’m glad you’ve had such an opportunity,” Lady Myriah replied.
After the soup, the main course of two platters of sliced, roasted pork accompanied by apples baked in a brown sugar, buttery sauce were served. Footman brought trays around serving buttered rolls, corn relish, and boiled potatoes seasoned with parsley. Lady Anne-Marie and Lady Amiée-Josephine chimed up to introduce themselves as the course was served. Lady Amiée-Josephine’s looks favored Kingston’s with her brown hair and blue eyes. Lady Anne-Marie favored their French mother with golden hair and blue eyes.
These introductions went pleasantly and were followed by platters of pastries, the third course. The delectable savories consisted of flaky concoctions filled with warmed cherry sauce and drizzled with a white, sugary, confection sauce. More savories followed with plates of warm apple tarts seasoned with nutmeg and cinnamon. Along with these, guests were offered servings of maple glazed baked carrots, slices of cheddar cheese, boiled eggs, and pickled herring. Thin slices of lemon cake were offered in the fourth and final dessert course. The beverages offered were orangeat and cold cider.
By the third course, somewhere between the cherry pastries and the apple tarts, Lady Elizabeth Crandall and Lady Jane Barrymore had introduced themselves, both seated beyond Lady Myriah and Aggie. Elizabeth haled from Chesterfield of Derby Shire; Jane, a flaming redhead from Edinburgh County, Scotland, in the rural parish of Kirkland, near Carrington in the middle of the county. She was sure to meet the others later; as for the most part, the table was chatty and too widespread to converse comfortably with the others. There was one moment when the table squealed with laughter to hear the story of her meeting with Bertha, the Christmas goose. She was careful to leave out the warm manner in which Kingston had rescued her. He had listened to her rendition carefully. By the look in his eyes, she was certain he had made note of that private moment which she withheld from their ears.
