All Out--The No-Longer-Secret Stories of Queer Teens throughout the Ages

by Saundra Mitchell

  Mary curtsyed. Her face colored, in relief this time.

  When the princess was gone, Mary sagged against the wall. Her Royal Highness’s toilette had taken more than two hours. Aside from the brief interval at dinner, Mary had not sat down since that morning. All she now wished for was her pallet, and perhaps a glass of small beer.

  But the servant’s door cracked open before Mary could retreat, and in spite of herself, she smiled when she saw Susanna’s face peeking around the edge.

  “Quick,” Susanna whispered. “If we hurry, we’ll get to see them arrive.”

  7:00 p.m.

  Susanna ignored the new girl’s protests and tugged her down the back stairs. Mary had never been to court before, and she did not seem to understand that the arrivals were the most crucial part of any evening. The dresser allowed herself to be led readily enough, though, smiling at the chambermaid from underneath her eyelashes. It was all Susanna could do to keep the two of them on their course.

  Most nights, the arriving courtiers proceeded to the Great Drawing Room to seek an audience with His Majesty. For balls, though, the gardens outside the palace were favored instead. Susanna led Mary to a concealed spot behind a door just past the courtyard where the nobles arrived, their sedan chairs carried high in the air by footmen, to present themselves for entry.

  Susanna heard Mary gasp behind her at their first sight of a grand lady sitting with her head tipped all the way backward so as not to allow her freshly powdered and piled hair to scrape the top of the litter.

  “Watch how they take her out of it,” she whispered to the awestruck Mary.

  The fine lady was helped from her chair by her husband and two footmen. One of the footmen grasped her hand while the other unfolded the wide hoops of her mantua where it had been crushed into the chair for travel. Only when her skirt was unwound to its full six-foot width did the lady attempt to step down, her high heel digging into the second footman’s hand as she rocked unsteadily to the ground.

  “That’s absurd,” Mary whispered, horror in her voice.

  Susanna grinned. “Welcome to life at court.”

  A few of Susanna’s friends joined to watch as more chairs arrived. The girls were full of compliments for Mary and Susanna on their hair. Both of them were still done up as though they were fine ladies themselves, thanks to their practice session. Susanna smiled and tilted her head to give them a better view, but Mary barely even noticed their attentions, so transfixed was she by all the courtiers descending from their grand chairs and adjusting their ridiculous clothing.

  Just as the arrivals were beginning to slow, a palace footman passed on his way to the garden, his wig tight around his ears, his arms loaded with bottles of wine. Susanna slipped one bottle from his hand with a smile. The footman winked at her in reply.

  “Come,” Susanna whispered to Mary. “You won’t be needed for hours yet, not until the princess tires. We have time for some amusements of our own.”

  Mary’s eyes widened, and for a moment Susanna feared her country sensibilities would compel her to refuse. But then the dresser smiled, and soon she was following Susanna through the winding passageways to the back stairs.

  The two of them found a dark, empty spot and talked and giggled their way through the bottle of wine. Susanna showed Mary the fan she’d borrowed from Her Royal Highness’s dressing room, with a delicate painting of a biblical scene—Ruth and Naomi in the wilderness.

  She demonstrated for Mary how ladies used their fans to ask gentlemen to follow them, and to communicate messages of love and malice, and told her stories of the absurd behavior she’d witnessed from the grandest ladies and gentlemen in all of England.

  Mary told stories, too. Her former mistress, it seemed, had loved brewing potions designed to ward off illnesses, and had tested her smallpox potion on Mary, causing her to belch for days on end. As Mary laughed now, at the memory, Susanna stared into her brilliant blue eyes. She’d never seen anything so beautiful.

  Mary finished her story and they fell into a contented silence. A moment passed. Then another. And then Susanna lifted the princess’s fan and tapped it to her lips.

  Perhaps it was the wine, or her country naivety, but at first Mary seemed not to take Susanna’s meaning. Susanna tapped the fan again, and once more, then passed the fan into Mary’s hand.

  She saw on her face the precise moment when Mary understood. The girl’s eyes grew so wide it made Susanna giggle.

  It was an easy thing, then, to kiss her. As easy as laughter. Easy as a warm sun on a September afternoon. Susanna leaned in halfway, and Mary closed the remaining distance, until their lips met as equals in the empty, shadowed hall.

  Mary tasted sweet, as a country girl should. Susanna smiled against her lips, and felt Mary smile in return. She slipped an arm around the other girl’s waist, and the feel of her stays pressing against Susanna’s palm was like another kiss. Her body grew warm.

  “Ho, there, mistress. And, ah—you, too. Mistress.”

  The girls sprang apart at the sound of the man’s voice. In the dark, they couldn’t see who was speaking.

  Susanna tried to think of some innocent explanation for why she and Mary were lingering in the corridors instead of going about their duties. If Mistress Keen, the housekeeper, were to find out, Susanna and Mary could both be lashed.

  Then the man approached them. His shoulders were broad under his livery, and his step was quick and jaunty.

  It was only Barnaby.

  “Sir!” Susanna’s relief echoed in the corridor. “You frightened us.”

  “My greatest apologies.” Barnaby’s lips quirked in the candlelight as he glanced back and forth between the two girls. “If I’d known what you were getting up to I’d have left you to your privacy. I merely sought to inform you, Mistress Arnold, that I’ve been circulating among the ladies, and Her Royal Highness has been receiving a great many compliments on her hair this evening. Our very own Princess Amelia is quite the talk of the ball.”

  “Truly?” A flicker of a smile passed over Mary’s face. Susanna smiled, too. Even though she’d wanted the position for herself, now that she knew Mary, Susanna wanted her to stay at court for as long as she possibly could.

  “It’s a fact, mistress. Why, I overheard my fair Lady Mordaunt—she’s one of the maids of honor, you know.” Barnaby added this as an aside to Mary, holding his hands at his chest to indicate her ladyship’s bosom, which Susanna had long ago noted was impressive indeed. “Her ladyship said that in her opinion, Princess Amelia’s hair has never looked finer than it does this evening. And Her Royal Highness herself said—” At this Barnaby lay a finger beside his chin, in a clear imitation of the princess. Mary gasped at his impropriety. “The princess said she has received more compliments on her hair this evening than she’s had all summer. She then said that as much as she absolutely despises everything to do with Lady Portland, the best thing that woman ever did was to acquire her this strange little country girl to be her new dresser. Princess Anne was simply seething with jealousy by her side. None of them could believe you’d already mastered such an interesting new style, with the flowers woven in.”

  “Flowers?” At first Susanna thought she’d misheard. “What about flowers?”

  “I—” Mary looked away. “Susanna, I—I put flowers in Her Royal Highness’s hair. You see, I was trying the French style. The one you told me about.”

  “Oh.” Susanna didn’t understand why Mary wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Did you tell her it was my idea, then?”

  “No, I—Susanna, you must understand, I—”

  “You didn’t?”

  Just one day earlier, Susanna would have thought a betrayal like this would anger her. Instead, she felt herself about to cry. She’d been so rash to trust this strange girl after knowing her such a short time.

  And a dresser, too. Dressers never saw chambermaids as
equals. Perhaps Mary thought Susanna good enough for a bit of fun in a dark hallway, but that didn’t mean she thought of her as anything more.

  Susanna was such a fool. She’d let herself begin to care.

  She blinked back her tears. Next to her, Barnaby looked confused, and Mary looked as though she might cry herself.

  “I see the way of it.” Susanna kept her voice measured and cold. “I understand everything. Now never speak to me again, and I’ll grant you the same favor.”

  “Susanna, please, listen to me, I—”

  But Susanna was running down the corridor before Mary could finish whatever lie she was about to attempt.

  10:00 p.m.

  “She’s gone.” The despair welling in Mary’s soul was deeper than she’d have ever imagined. “Oh, do you suppose she could forgive me, Mr. Halford?”

  “Well, I’m not sure I quite grasped all that just transpired, Mistress Arnold, but that’s one question I can answer.” Barnaby shook his head. “Susanna does not easily forgive.”

  There had to be something Mary could do. She couldn’t lose Susanna already. She was the one good thing about Mary’s new life here at the palace.

  An idea began to form in Mary’s mind. It might be her only chance. But she’d have to move quickly.

  “Barnaby,” she said, forgetting in her haste to use the proper form of address. “My apologies—Mr. Halford. Could you get me into the ball?”

  “What do you mean, into the ball?” Barnaby’s eyebrows went shockingly high. It was indeed a strange request. Only male servants attended on the courtiers in the evenings. The ladies enjoyed the sight of a handsome man in livery holding out a shining tray.

  “Just for a moment. I need to—I must speak to Her Royal Highness.”

  “To the princess?” Barnaby’s shocked look would have been comical had Mary not felt so desperate. “You wish to speak to Princess Amelia during a ball in the palace gardens.”

  “It’s my only choice.” Mary could not help the desperation that leaked into her voice. She could not allow the ladies to continue gossiping about her marvelous knowledge of hairstyling. It was a lie, and more important, it was a lie that hurt Susanna. “Please, sir. I must convince Susanna of my sincerity.”

  “You really do care for her, then.” Barnaby softened. “All right. It’s a good thing your hair is done, at least. I suppose there’s nothing we can do about your lack of proper dress, but stay close behind me and maybe I can block their view.”

  Mary followed Barnaby through a gap in the shrubbery and into the garden itself. Suddenly they were steering carefully through a crowd of women in six-foot-wide mantuas and men in flowing gray wigs. The courtiers stood in chattering groups, sweat dripping down their necks and anxiety glossy in their eyes.

  “There she is,” Barnaby whispered. Mary spotted the princess right away from the petals in her towering hair. “I must leave you here. I’ve been away from my post far too long.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Halford.” Mary straightened her shoulders and tried to think of a witty way to thank him. Something Susanna would say. “I’ll alert you if I hear tell of Lord Hervey growing tired of Lord Fox.”

  Barnaby grinned and disappeared back into the garden.

  How was Mary meant to address the princess? She oughtn’t be here at all. Already several ladies were casting her unhappy looks now that Barnaby was no longer shielding her.

  Mary fidgeted with her dress. It had been fine once, but here among these ladies in jewel-crusted mantuas, she might as well have been wearing rags.

  “Mistress Arnold?”

  The sound of the voice made Mary’s chin shoot up. The princess was calling her.

  Mary ran to her side as fast as she could in her high heels. The princess was standing at the center of a group of ladies, including her sisters, the Princesses Anne and Caroline.

  “Your Royal Highness?” Mary whispered.

  “Ah, I thought I saw you skulking back there.” Princess Amelia did not whisper. In fact, she seemed to raise her voice even higher as she commanded, “Fetch me a bourdaloue.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Mary scurried backward, trying to think of where the nearest bourdaloue might be. The day before she would’ve been astonished to hear a princess of England call out so loudly for a device in which to relieve herself, but no act of Princess Amelia could shock her now.

  On a hunch, Mary glanced down beneath the shrubbery at her feet. Sure enough, she caught a glimpse of white porcelain, and another a few yards farther on. She should have guessed that the gardens were well-equipped during balls. Mary knelt, holding her breath, as she strongly suggested the gentlemen at the ball had already been employing the shrubbery for a similar purpose, but without the use of pots.

  The nearest bourdaloue was the most beautiful one she’d ever seen, white with gold trimming and an array of painted flowers along its oval surface. It was amazing how such a purely functional object could look so delicate. Mary wondered what it must have been like for the painter to use his artistic gifts on such a thing.

  She grasped the handle and lifted the lid to make sure the pot was empty. It was, God be praised. She slid the cover back in place and tried not to think of how many ladies had already used this bourdaloue that evening as she carried it swiftly back to the group surrounding the princess.

  “There you are.” Princess Amelia spotted Mary and beckoned for her to follow. A moment later, Mary and Her Royal Highness had slipped into a dark corner of the garden. They could still see the other ballgoers, but no one seemed to pay the princess much mind as she hiked up her mantua and petticoats. Mary passed her the bourdaloue in silence and managed not to flinch when she heard the princess begin to use it.

  Well, Mary had come here to speak, had she not? This may be the only chance she had.

  “Your Royal Highness,” she began. Mary was anxious to choose her words carefully, but mindful that she only had moments until the princess composed herself again. “I must make a confession to you. The style I used on your hair today—it was Mistress Susanna’s idea. That is, it was she who told me of the French technique, with the flowers. She, not I, should be the one to receive praise for it. I apologize for my misrepresentation, and if a punishment is due to me, I will accept it without complaint.”

  When Mary was done speaking, the princess laughed long and hard. She handed Mary the full bourdaloue and began to right her skirts. “I suspected as much. A meek little country girl like you knowing hairstyles never before seen in an English court? Well, here’s what we can do. My sister Anne despises her dresser, so you can go and work for her instead. Then Mistress Susanna can become my new dresser. It should’ve been her in any case. Portly thinks she has the charge of our households, but she’s not the granddaughter of a king, now, is she?”

  Mary was astonished. This was even better than she had hoped for. She struggled not to spill the bourdaloue in her excitement. “No, Ma’am.”

  “Run and tell Mistress Susanna, would you? Have her inform Mistress Keen.”

  “I will, Ma’am. Thank you.”

  “Right then. Now, that’s enough servant talk for me. I’ve a ball to enjoy.”

  The princess, her skirts back in place, strolled to rejoin her group of ladies. Mary, nearly laughing to herself in her glee, emptied the bourdaloue into a remote shrub, then returned it to its place and left the garden as quickly as her footsteps could carry her.

  When she reached the palace, its back corridors were dark and empty. Mary ran up the steps, trying to look in every direction, and quickly lost her way.

  “Susanna?” she whispered into the blackness after countless minutes of wandering. It was hopeless. She would never find her in this darkened maze.

  “Mary?” a voice whispered back through the emptiness. “Is that you?”

  “Susanna!” Mary couldn’t believe her luck
, but she knew that voice perfectly. She ran up to her and took the other girl’s hand, even as Susanna tried to pull away. “Oh, Susanna, I’m so sorry about what I did. But please, you must listen. I must tell you what’s happened tonight.”

  Speaking so fast she wasn’t even sure the other girl would understand, Mary told her about her conversation with the princess. At first, she worried Susanna wouldn’t believe her. Soon, though, as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Mary could see the smile on Susanna’s face.

  “Truly?” Susanna finally said.

  “Truly! You’re to be her dresser. No more emptying chamber pots. Well, except the occasional bourdaloue, I suppose. We must find Mistress Keen and tell her!”

  Susanna shook her head. “Not yet. She’ll be busy with the ball arrangements for hours yet. We’ll tell her after that. For now, I think you should simply come with me.”

  Mary nodded. She couldn’t stop smiling.

  Neither could Susanna. Perhaps she truly was forgiven.

  The stairs were dark and winding. Mary didn’t know where Susanna was leading her, but neither did she care. They turned down one dark corridor into another, until Mary couldn’t stand to wait any longer. She caught Susanna by the wrist.

  “Enough climbing,” Mary said. “Do you believe me?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Mary could hardly believe it. “You forgive me?”

  Susanna laughed. “I wanted to forgive you even before I knew you spoke to the princess. It was a struggle to think of you as capable of deceit. You’re not an easy one to be angry with, Mistress Arnold.”

  Mary smiled and shook her head. “Then enough dashing through corridors. We’re already in exactly the right place.”

  “Well,” Susanna said with a smile, glancing above her, “in truth, we—”

  Mary silenced her with a kiss.

  It was darker now than it had been when they kissed before, and warmer, too. Susanna kissed her back with an eagerness that drew little sighs out of Mary as their lips moved together. She pressed Susanna back against the wall, dreaming of being alone with her again tomorrow, dreaming of the time ahead, together. Here, where the corridors were a dark, hazy maze. The perfect place for secrets to be kept.