Later that same day Saskia went to see Elizabeth, who immediately started chattering away about wedding gowns and dishes for banquets before Saskia could break her news.
‘Robert and I were married today at noon.’
Elizabeth looked at her incredulously. ‘You can’t be! You have not had any banns read in church!’
‘There was no need. We had a Fleet marriage.’
Elizabeth looked aghast, throwing up her hands in dismay. ‘That dreadful place! Why?’
‘Robert and I decided between us that we should be wed before he left for the city of York today.’
Immediately Elizabeth’s expression changed and she became quite dewy-eyed. ‘He could wait no longer to make you his wife! I wish you both all the joys of marriage, but,’ she added mischievously, ‘I’m sure that Robert initiated you into some of its pleasures before he went away.’
Saskia ignored the comment. ‘He is sending his staff back to London from Yorkshire to take care of the house, and so I shall have plenty of time on my hands. I have a project that I have planned. I’m going to try to replace all the little pots and flasks that were lost in the fire. If my mother was able to put a collection together of such lovely old ones in Paris I’m sure I could do the same in London.’
‘But you could buy new ones.’
Saskia nodded. ‘Maybe if I find any worthy to be added to the only one I have from the original collection. My mother had added two or three little Delft jars to it that were new, but I’m hoping that each one I buy will be antique enough to have its own little history, even though I shall never know the origins of any of them.’
‘What a fascinating task you have given yourself! May I be allowed to start off your new collection?’ Elizabeth sprang up from her chair and went into her bedchamber to return with a tiny glass pot, its colour a rich blue.
‘It’s lovely!’ Saskia exclaimed as it was handed to her.
‘It’s from Venice. It is one of the souvenirs that Grinling brought home from his trip, but I know he will be pleased for you to have it.’
‘Together with the one sole surviving pot from the cottage fire it makes a wonderful commencement of my task. I thank you so much.’
‘Have you selected a room in the house where you can make your products?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘Yes, there’s one above the kitchen with a view over the herb garden. As soon as I leave here I’m calling in a carpenter to equip the room for me with a work bench, shelves and all else that I’ll need. It will be the kind of working area that I have always wanted. Somewhere in the house I shall have a glass-fronted cupboard from floor to ceiling where I can place all the little treasures that I’m hoping to find. It will probably be in the music room.’
‘That is an excellent idea! But at the present time you should also be thinking about clothes. Robert is very sociable and when he returns to London you’ll be invited with him to all kinds of events.’
‘I’m engaging the same dressmaker as you had. I have contacted her and she is coming tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Excellent! May I come and help you choose as you did with me?’
Saskia laughed. ‘Yes, indeed.’
After drinking tea with Elizabeth and before leaving the inn Saskia went to see the landlord. After paying him up to date for renting Acorn she then made an offer to buy her, knowing from Joe what the mare was worth. The offer was accepted and the following day Saskia sent a message to Joe, asking him to bring Acorn to her, for there was stabling for eight horses beside the coach-house.
When Joe arrived with his charge Saskia met him with a gold coin and gave Acorn a juicy apple. She could see from Acorn’s condition how well the lad had cared for the mare.
‘Mistress,’ Joe began tentatively after Saskia had given him food and drink in the kitchen and it was time for him to leave again, ‘do you think you might have a place for another stable lad when the staff come back from Yorkshire? Acorn has become used to me and she won’t like anyone else grooming her.’
She realized how strong the bond had become between him and the mare. ‘What of the farm, Joe?’
‘My brother won’t even notice I’ve gone and the farm will be his one day, never mine.’
‘But your parents?’
‘Ma thinks it would be good for me to get out in the world and she has already talked my Pa into agreeing.’ Then he added eagerly, ‘I looked at the accommodation in the stable loft. There would be plenty of room for me.’
She smiled. ‘In that case you’d better go home and collect your belongings.’
He gave a yelp of jubilation and then coloured beneath his freckles. ‘Your pardon, mistress. I’ll be back here this evening!’
After he had gone she went upstairs to transfer her clothes and other items into the closets and chests of the bedchamber and its adjoining dressing room that were next to Robert’s. Since they would now appear to be husband and wife it was right that she should occupy the rooms of the mistress of the house. The communicating double doors had the key on her side and were securely locked.
Now she realized that she must have a personal maid. She would need help in dressing in more elaborate gowns, for so many bodices hooked or laced up at the back. She would visit an agency in the morning.
Joe returned with his few possessions and moved into the stable loft. It was divided into three rooms, which were furnished, and there was more accommodation above the coach-house. Finding a spare bed stacked against the wall, he set it up for himself and then made it up with the bedclothes that Saskia gave him. He was content as he fell asleep.
Saskia was late to bed, for she had sat studying a detailed map of London that Robert had left behind. It had been printed to show the vast area that had been devastated by the Great Fire and he had made crosses or else encircled parts that were of special interest to him. She in her turn was highlighting with a pencil the markets left in the city and the streets of shops where she might acquire items for her collection.
Next morning Saskia visited an agency to state her requirements and the following day she interviewed three women in turn, questioning them about their experience and getting each to dress her hair. One young woman in her mid-twenties, named Joan Pomfret, stood out from the other two, being neat and competent. Saskia had deliberately dressed her own hair in an unfashionable style and whereas two of the personal maids repeated the same style, Joan chose the very latest mode. She brushed Saskia’s hair until it shone like bronze silk and then drew it back from the face in the very latest mode, securing it in a way that allowed the rich tresses to fall in long soft curls down her back. Saskia was reminded how she done something similar to establish herself with Mistress Gibbons one wet night far away in Holland.
Joan was plain-featured, but had a ready smile, the high curve of her brows giving her the look of being perpetually pleased and surprised by life. Yet it was clear from her references that her previous employers had all been elderly and difficult, much that was written suggested to Saskia that a spiteful pen had inscribed it.
‘I’m so happy to come here, madam,’ Joan said after Saskia told her she was appointed. ‘I have never before had someone young to serve.’
Saskia felt well satisfied with the choice she had made. Joan was as delighted with the room she was given and also to learn that she would have new clothes for her duties. It gave Saskia special pleasure to have been instrumental in improving two people’s lives. She was certain that both Joan and Joe would serve her well and loyally.
Yet she was to be rewarded in her turn, soon finding out that Joan had an interest in cosmetics that matched her own. Soon she was entrusting Joan with weighing and mixing and filling pots with various creams.
‘Would you be prepared to become my full-time assistant?’ she asked the girl one day.
Joan’s brown eyes widened. ‘Yes, mistress! It would be wonderful! But I was employed to wait on you personally and take care of your clothes and shoes and all else.’
�
��I shall take on a minor personal maid, who will be your assistant and do all that you’ll no longer have time to do for me.’
‘But I’ll still dress your hair, mistress! I should not want anyone else taking over that responsibility.’
‘It shall be as you wish.’
So a young girl named Matilda Durrant joined the household. She was short, dark-haired and eager to learn. Joan made a point of training her well to look after their mistress and everything continued to run smoothly.
Sixteen
The household staff arrived on a rain-soaked evening two days later. Saskia, reading in the library, raised her head with a start. Although she was expecting them to arrive at some unspecified time the sudden explosion of voices, hurrying footsteps, the thumping of baggage and a snatch of laughter made it sound as if the house had been invaded. She put aside her book, but before she reached the door it opened and a middle-aged woman in a rain-spattered cloak, her features quite fine and her dark hair neatly dressed beneath her hood, entered to bob a curtsy.
‘Good evening, madam. I am Mistress Seymour, your housekeeper. The staff are here with me. Do you wish to see them now?’
Saskia shook her head. ‘No. You have all had a long and tiring journey. There is a large game pie and a cold cooked chicken among other foodstuffs in the pantry. Let them eat their supper and then I will see them. Afterwards I shall discuss domestic arrangements with you. I dined early and so there is nothing to be done for me this evening, except to prepare my bed.’
Alice Seymour raised her eyebrows slightly in surprise. She had not expected such consideration. ‘I thank you, madam.’
An hour later she returned, changed now into a dark-blue gown and a neat white cap. She stood back to allow Saskia to pass by her into the hall where the servants waited in a line, each bowing or bobbing according to their sex and all regarding her with intense curiosity. This was the Master’s bride! She was younger than they had expected, but her beauty came as no surprise, for they knew their master’s taste in pretty women. But she intrigued them, for there was an air about her that showed she was in full charge of herself and in spite of her smile there was sternness in her glance that showed she would expect the best from each of them.
She in her turn was studying them with interest. Four footmen, four housemaids, two scullery maids, the kitchen boy and the chef from France, whom she knew had been employed by Robert’s father during his exile and who had recently come to England, wanting to serve his late master’s son. She thought it extremely unselfish of Robert to have deprived himself of the chef’s expertise in order that she should benefit. At the end of the line the coachman and grooms were easy to distinguish by their ruddy complexions, the result of hours in the open air. Last of all in the row was Joe, looking highly pleased with himself in new clothes that Saskia had bought him that same day. Joan and Matilda were also present, but as befitted their positions as lady’s maid and assistant already established in the house they stood apart from the rest, although they had already introduced themselves.
Saskia spoke to each of the new arrivals in turn, asking their names and where they were from, most of them proving to be London-born. Then she beckoned the housekeeper into the library while the rest of the servants dispersed.
‘Tell me how you have managed the household whenever Master Harting has been in residence,’ Saskia said. When the woman had answered her fully Saskia gave a nod. ‘That all sounds very sensible and practical to me. There is just one other matter. I have converted what was previously a bedchamber into a workroom where I shall be making my own cosmetics, salves and unguents, which is something that I have done for a long time. Joan will be assisting me. Although my wardrobe will have priority, with her there will be Matilda on hand for any mending of linen or other such tasks should that be needed.’
‘Very good, madam,’ the housekeeper replied, impressed again by this new mistress’s practical attitude.
From then onwards the house settled into a regular routine. Saskia began happily to make her beautifying products again. She contacted Rufus to order finer wares from his kilns, for she had observed many times that items expensively presented were more highly esteemed by those who could afford to buy them, no matter that there was no difference in the contents. He brought her some samples.
‘Do you like these, madam?’ he asked. ‘The china is thin as a fine teacup and the decoration on each one is different. I’ve a new artist and her work is very delicate.’
She did like them and placed her order. It was all part of her careful preparations for relaunching herself into business. She had not forgotten Robert’s words that at her cottage stall she had been a novelty and a whim of fashion, which was why she had been successful during the short time she was there. Now she was going to become a novelty all over again, but on the London scene this time, for that was the way to get herself and subsequently her cosmetics back into the public’s notice. All of it would pave the way to getting a shop of her own one day and then she would be completely independent and free from all obligations to Robert. The farce of their marriage could be allowed to fade away and then both of them would be at liberty to live their own separate lives.
There would be no more deliveries by horseback, although Acorn was hers to ride in her leisure time. Instead she had the elegant little carriage in the coach-house restored to its former splendour of pale green paintwork with discreet gilding. She intended that the colour green should predominate throughout her enterprise, for it was the colour of nature and would help to emphasize the healthy and natural ingredients that she always used in her products.
With Joe advising her she purchased a sturdy young pony to pull the little carriage. Joe in his turn was measured for a white livery with bunches of green ribbons at his shoulders and also a green band around the crown of his wide-brimmed hat, all from the many yards of ribbon that she had specially dyed to ornament her presentations. Having noticed early on how he reeked of the stable, in spite of cold water ablutions every morning at one of the pumps, she moved him into a bedchamber on the top floor of the house in the male servants’ quarters. He was now ready to drive her about.
She had plenty of new clothes now and all were discreetly fashionable, for in no way did she intend to appear lacking in good taste. A milliner made her some hats to her own design. All were wide-brimmed in a fine straw and curved up away from her face, each trimmed with enormous clusters of ribbons, silk flowers or ostrich feathers. Joe, smart in his livery, drove her to the races, to exhibitions, to the theatres and to any event where she would attract attention.
It was not long before it was well known that the beauty in the green and gold carriage was the wife of Robert Harting, the architect. At the same time Elizabeth was helping to circulate information about her expertise in beauty aids, although Saskia’s lovely face was its own advert, and many women became eager to consult her. Those who had purchased from her in the past began to boast of having tried her wonderful products. It was not long before carriages brought would-be purchasers to Saskia’s door.
None was received. She did not intend that Robert’s peace should be disturbed in his own home when he returned, but the footman gave each caller a pale green and gold card with the announcement that Mistress Harting would be holding consultations in the Grand Salon at the recently rebuilt assembly rooms for three hours on a forthcoming date.
Saskia was only too aware all the time how she was spending Robert’s money in a way that he could never have foreseen at the time when he had put no limit on her expenses. She was keeping a ledger in which she entered every penny that she owed him. He should be paid just as soon as she began making a profit from all she had prepared.
On the afternoon of the consultation there was a traffic jam with carriages outside the assembly rooms. Women, who had never before alighted from their equipages until they had been brought right to an entrance, now sprang out of them and sped on foot not to be too far to the rear of those already entering
.
When they came into the salon there were chairs in semicircular rows, which were soon filled, and then the doors were closed. On the arm of each chair was a sample of hand cream, which was examined with interest and popped into purses. Saskia sat by a table on which her products were displayed, backed by an arrangement of flowers, and with Joan in attendance. Saskia was well aware that there were plenty of charlatans that preyed on people’s gullibility, and at all costs she was determined not to let herself be tainted in any way by such a false accusation.
She had seen Elizabeth arrive in the company of a sweet-faced, quietly composed woman, who was dressed in modest colours with none of the flamboyance of the more fashionably attired women present. They took two seats at the end of the seventh row. Saskia exchanged a smile with Elizabeth before standing to address her audience.
‘I bid you welcome, ladies. As you will have noticed, the colour green is important to me as it is Nature’s hue and I’m here today just to talk about my products, but not to sell.’ There was a rustle of disappointment, which she ignored. ‘I should not want anyone to think I have discovered some magic way in which to create a transformation from normal visages into startling beauty. That is impossible. There have been many false claims made over the years. All I have to offer are simple herbal products that are free of white lead, which I believe to be the most dangerous of all the ingredients used in many beauty aids.’
Garlands of Gold Page 20
