by Matilda Hart
I finished my bathing quickly, sponging away the last of the fragrant soap bubbles and then rubbing myself dry with the fluffy cotton towels that had been brought for me. I pulled one of my favorite day dresses from the wardrobe and dressed quickly, knowing that at any minute Sophie would be walking through my door. Sure enough, as I was tying the ribbon of my bonnet, Sophie flung open the door and swept into the room. Her periwinkle blue dress reflected the peculiar shade of her eyes beautifully, and the bonnet she had chosen framed her sweet face perfectly. I was always stunned by Sophie’s beauty, but something about today had amplified it. Perhaps it was the sensual secret we now shared, but maybe it was something more.
She looped her arm through mine and pulled me towards the door and through the halls to the front doors of Barclay House. As we tripped down the hallway in our walking slippers, I could hear the sound of crying, and I knew that other women had received the same news that I had. Perhaps worse. A small twinge of guilt rippled down my spine, but I pushed it away and quickened my pace to keep up with Sophie. If she could forget her troubles in this house, then so could I. We emerged from the house and into the brightness of the day, squinting and laughing as the cool breeze caressed our cheeks and tugged at our curls.
The Duke’s gardens were expansive, and I noticed many other small groups of women walking together and talking, or individuals reading quietly and enjoying their solitude in the dappled shade of the many leafy trees scattered about the area. Our slippers clicked over the flagstone paths and we chatted about the flowers and the delightful weather, and the last ball we had performed at together.
“You know, Charlotte, His Grace’s birthday is approaching… some of the other ladies have been asking if we will be performing.” I opened my mouth to object, but Sophie cut me off. “Now, before you say no, it would be the perfect birthday gift to him, to show him how much we appreciate his kindness.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to me, “Besides, you haven’t heard the way some of these women caterwaul after dinners. They actually think that they’re talented, but the reality is that no one has had the nerve to tell them how awful they really are!” I burst out laughing and covered my mouth as several heads turned in our direction.
“You’re awful, Sophie! I hope no one heard you!” Sophie shrugged.
“So what if they did, none of them are better on the pianoforte than I am, and you are easily the best voice in the village. Perhaps even the township. Don’t make that face. You know how talented you are!” I laughed at Sophie. “Besides,” she continued, “it’s time for you to come out of mourning. We’re all in the same position, and there’s nothing about what’s happening with George that isn’t happening to all of the other women who are staying here.” I dipped my chin and looked at the toes of my slippers. She wasn’t wrong, and I had been wallowing in my grief.
Sophie stopped in the path and clutched my hands in hers. “Please, Sophie. Perform with me. I’ve already told Mrs. Campbell that we’ll be putting something together, she’s already ordered to has His Grace’s best pianoforte delivered from his summer house. It will be here this week so we can start practicing. I’ve requested an escort to come with me to my house so that I can collect my sheet music. You’ll have to come up with some ideas of what you want to sing. I know what I want to play, but you’re the one that’s on display.” She smiled at me gleefully and pumped my hands up and down and I couldn’t help but return her eager grin.
“I can pick anything I want?” Sophie nodded excitedly. “I don’t want to sing any of those lewd country songs… my Scottish accent is horrible and I can never get the lyrics right.” Sophie shook her head and pulled me back to the path.
“No no, we won’t be singing those common things. Those are for the drunk women after dinner, we’re better than that. Besides, I can’t bring myself to play those terrible things, even if Hayden arranges them!” Sophie lifted her chin and gave me a sly look and I couldn’t help but laugh. At least we were in agreement in this respect. We continued to walk through the garden together, occasionally stopping so that Sophie could introduce me to the women I hadn’t met yet. We were met with some tear filled eyes and desperately clasped hands in some circles as the women discussed their husbands and brothers in distressed tones; and peals of laughter in others as Sophie told a bawdy joke or shared a snide observation. Some of the women regarded me with suspicious glances, while others lifted their noses in the air, taking my decision to shut myself away as putting on airs or thinking I was above the Duke’s charity despite my upper middle-class upbringing. Let them think what they wanted. Perhaps George would be home soon, and I could leave this place and its temptations forever.
When Sophie and I finally made our way back to the house, pausing briefly to watch the frogs leaping among the lily pads on the reflecting pool, I had all but decided that I was going to treat my days at Barclay House differently than I had intended. I resolved to re-insert myself into the social life of the house, beginning with dinner tonight, and the Duke’s upcoming birthday celebrations. I briefly wondered if I had a gown fine enough to wear to His Grace’s birthday, but tried to push away the ball of nervousness that suddenly gathered in my stomach.
Sophie walked with me back to my room and left me at my door, “I’ll be back to collect you for dinner… wear something white, it looks best on you in the candlelight. I’ll bring you something for your hair.” I thanked her quietly and opened the door to my room. On my bed lay a paper wrapped package with a card tucked into the string. Another letter bearing the Duke’s signet ring seal. What on earth had he sent for me now?
I plucked the card from the package and broke the seal.
Dearest Charlotte,
I hope you will allow me to call you Dearest, for I would like to know you better. Please accept this gift, it would bring such joy to me to see you wear it on my birthday when I can finally hear you perform.
Ever your faithful servant,
D.
I felt my cheeks heating as I read the Duke’s letter. A dress for his birthday? I tugged at the package strings and opened the package. As the paper fell away it revealed a watered silk gown made of the darkest amethyst. The neckline plunged daringly, and a collar of white feathers rose from it in such a way that I knew it was designed to accentuate my jawline and caress the back of my neck. The sleeves of the dress puffed delicately and were hung with white beads and crystals. Silken slippers beaded and embroidered to match peeped from another paper wrapping. As I gazed in amazement at my gifts, a soft knock came at the door. I opened it to reveal a footman. With a smile on his face, he held out a silver tray towards me, upon it rested a black velvet bag. I took the bag with hesitant fingers and the footman handed me another note. I thanked him with halting words, and he nodded briskly and then walked quickly down the hall. I opened the note with shaking fingers.
Dearest Charlotte.
I desire nothing more than to see this gleaming at your throat. I know you will wear it well, as another great lady did before you.
Yours,
D.
I dropped the note to the bed and opened the bag with shaking fingers. From the bag I pulled a heavy silver chain, and dangling from the end, a large silver star studded with hundreds of tiny diamonds winked at me. I nearly dropped the necklace to the floor. This was too extravagant. I went to the wall of the room and yanked on the service bell. I stared at the magnificent piece of jewelry in my hand while my heart thudded in my chest. I had to return this. I could accept a dress, but something like this was unthinkable! A muffled knock sounded at the door, and I opened it to reveal a footman, the same one that had delivered the necklace. I slid it carefully into the velvet bag once more and held it out to him.
“Please, you must take this back to His Grace, I can’t accept a gift like this!” The man looked at the bag in my hand and then back to me. He smiled gently, but made no move to take it out of my hand.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Rutledge, but His Grace had a feeling that
you would refuse his gift. He would like me to ask you to please accept it as a token of his esteem, but one that you may return to him after his birthday dinner if you choose to do so.” I pulled back my hand, feeling ungrateful and confused.
“Oh. Please… please convey my thanks to His Grace. I’ve never received anything so beautiful in all my life.” The footman smiled at me, and turned to leave. “Excuse me, I’m sorry. To whom did this jewel belong? The Duke’s note…” The man paused, smiling sadly.
“His Grace had that piece made for a lady that he loved with all of his heart, sadly, she died of influenza some years ago.” I tried to keep the surprise off of my face. The Duke had been in love? But all of the stories I had heard… I nodded and thanked him again and watched as he walked briskly down the hall to return to his duties.
I closed the door and looked once more at the beautiful dress on my bed. The purple of the dress would look black in the candlelight, but the color would accentuate the green in my hazel eyes and the white feathers of the neckline would make my dark hair stand out even more. I turned to my dressing table and measured the necklace against my throat. The star would sit perfectly atop the swell of my breasts, just above the dark silk of the neckline of the dress. Coupled with my prized elbow length white gloves, the finished look would be breathtaking. All of a sudden, regardless of the guilt I could feel creeping up on me, I couldn’t wait for the Duke’s birthday to arrive.
I folded the dress carefully and placed it in the wardrobe. The necklace I tucked into the top drawer of the dressing table. I didn’t want to think of what Sophie would say if she saw it. There were only a few days until the Duke’s birthday celebrations, and Sophie and I had much to prepare.
Chapter 9
As promised, Sophie came to me just before the dinner hour to help me with my hair. She had brought some beautiful crystal strands to weave through my curls and I exclaimed over the effect in the candlelight. I showed her the dress that had arrived from the Duke, and watched as Sophie’s eyebrows arched in surprise as she fingered the luxurious material. It was probably best that I didn’t how her the necklace.
“Well, well, well! It’s a good thing you decided to perform at the Duke’s birthday celebration, otherwise you would be overdressed!” She ran her fingers along the white ruff on the dress. “I have some beautiful feathers and some silk flowers that would be beautiful in your hair. I promise I’ll style it for you too. Something simple but elegant, to go with this astonishing dress!” She came over to the dressing table and fussed with my curls. “We had better start practicing! We can use the harpsichord in the east drawing room after dinner tonight, it will do for now to get your voice ready for the party!” I laughed with her she pulled me to my feet and wound her arm through mine as we walked down the hall to dinner.
As we entered the dining room, once again I was stunned by the opulence of the hall and its decorations. The Duke sat once more at the head of the table surrounded by laughing ladies. He was dressed as elegantly as before, a deep crimson cravat rested at his throat, and his dark hair was brushed forward wildly; I felt my heart lurch in my chest. His face was handsome, arrestingly so. Once again I was reminded that it was no wonder that he was able to seduce so many of these young women with his charm. I wondered if he sent all of them the same gifts that he sent to me. Sophie pulled me past him, making sure that he noticed us. We curtsied in his direction, and I felt a blush stain my cheeks. His Grace nodded in reply, and we moved on down the table to find empty seats with women we knew. Thankfully, Sophie seemed to know everyone.
The table was set once more with a sumptuous array of meat and fish prepared in exotic ways. Venison from the Duke’s own park lands, and fresh shellfish from the seaside town not far away also graced the table near us. I stared wide eyed at the oysters as Sophie helped herself greedily. I tasted the food carefully, watching as the other women gorged themselves on the bounty before them. I hadn’t heard stories of anyone falling ill since I had arrived, and decided that perhaps my fear of His Grace’s French chef was a little silly. Surely the man wouldn’t risk his job and his life by poisoning the Duke and his guests. I tasted the turtle soup from a massive silver tureen and broke the soft herbed bread carefully with my fingers. Sophie ladled oysters onto my plate, and a footman arrived at my elbow to pour a crisp white wine in to my glass. I sipped at it delicately and applied my silver fork to the oysters in front of me. Heaven.
I could feel the Duke’s eyes on me as I ate my meal, and I tried to be mindful of his gaze. I took delicate bites, and tried not gulp my wine when the spice of the venison threatened to overwhelm me. I tried to forget that he was watching me as Sophie guided the lively conversation around us. She shared limericks and saucy rhymes from before she had been Mrs. Charles, and the women around us screeched with laughter. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Duke smile at us, and then one of the ladies near him deposited herself upon his knee and his concentration was broken.
I tried to relax and think about what songs I wanted to sing for the Duke’s birthday, I knew that Sophie or one of the women would be asking me about it soon. It would be best to be prepared. As dinner was whisked away and dessert found its way to the table in front of us, I realized that once again I had drunk more wine than I would usually. My head felt light, and my body warm, but I wasn’t nearly as drunk as I had been the night before. I looked at the Duke out of the corner of my eye, his hand was busy down the bodice of the giggling woman on his lap. I nudged Sophie.
“We should slip away and practice now.” She looked at me with surprise, her mouth full of a bite of lemon cake. She swallowed and then nodded and pushed back her chair. We made our apologies to the ladies around us and waited until one of the other women had taken her seat at the dining room’s pianoforte and began to play a jaunty Irish tune. Sophie pulled me in the direction of the east doors and we ran past footmen laden down with more cakes and delicate pastries. One of them stopped us to refill our wine glasses and we giggled, thanked him, and continued to the drawing room.
As Sophie had told me, the harpsicord sat waiting for us. The room was lit with candles and I could see Sophie’s sheet music waiting on the gilt bench. Sophie squealed with excitement and ran over to the harpsicord. She shuffled the sheet music and emitted little chirps of joy as she recognized a melody or a lyric line. She looked at me excitedly, “Charlotte! This music, it’s a gift from the Duke! Look at these! I’ve been lusting after some of these pieces for an age – look, this is the song we heard at the Countess’ ball.” She held it out to me, “I know you can sing it. Please, Charlotte?” I took the music out of her hand and looked at the notes. She was right, I did know the melody, but I had never sung it in public before, only hummed it to myself while dressing. It was a daringly beautiful song, very sad and full of longing.
“Are you certain, Sophie?” She nodded swiftly and gave me a smile. She snatched the music out of my hand and sat at the harpsicord. As Sophie’s fingers flew over the keys, I felt myself melting into our performance rhythm and the music flowed from us both. She started with something simple, the poetry of William Blake set to music, easy and charming, suitable for drawing rooms and small dinner parties. The words were easily recognizable and the tune was pretty and light, we had performed it countless times and I knew that we sounded beautiful together. As the final notes trailed away, the sound of applause echoed in the drawing room. We turned to look over our shoulders and were stunned to see that a large group of women had followed us and were listening in the doorway. I could feel a hot blush creep across my chest and up my neck. Mrs. Campbell was the first to step forward.
“Oh, my dears! His Grace is going to be simply transported by your performance, I just know it. If that’s any indication of your talents, there’s no doubt in my mind that you will be the highlight of the evening!” She clapped her gloved hands again and the other ladies followed suit. I gave a little curtsey and thanked them for their kindness, and when I caught Sophie’s eye, I could
n’t help but smile broadly at her. The performance would no doubt be a triumph, but we were already certain of that. I shooed the ladies away, assuring Mrs. Campbell that we were excited to perform, but that we were keeping our song choices a secret for now, “after all, how else are we to surprise His Grace?” Mrs. Campbell had laughed heartily and agreed with me.
“How, indeed!” she twittered as I closed the door gently on her round smiling face. I threw an exasperated look at Sophie who laughed in reply. “Now we can get down to business.” Sophie nodded excitedly and pulled the music that she desperately wanted to play to the front of the pile.
“It will sound much better on the pianoforte, I promise. You always sound beautiful, but I will sound better as soon as I get my fingers on those keys.” I nodded and she began the opening bars. I still worried that the song would be too somber for a birthday celebration, but I knew that the piece was beautiful, and was reserved for special occasions with a better class of people. I was determined to make an impression at the party, and if the only way I could thank the Duke properly was with my performance, then so be it. I would make it worth remembering.
