Justine Elyot

by Secretsand Lords

‘Lady Deverell wants you from today. The room’s yours now. Sylvie must sleep in your old bed for tonight. If she wants your job as well, she can have it. Otherwise, she must find her own alternative.’

  ‘It is cruel,’ raged Sylvie, looking up at them. ‘Lady Deverell is cruel. I have been an example of a good lady’s maid. But she is not a real lady and now it is clear. Oh, now it is so clear.’

  ‘I won’t listen to this, Sylvie,’ admonished Mrs Munn. ‘Finish your packing and come to my office in your own clothes, please.’

  ‘She will steal my uniform? It will not fit her. She is too tall.’

  ‘I will provide Miss Prior with her uniform. Bring yours with you when you come down.’

  Edie stepped into the room, taking her life in her hands.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll leave you to sort yourselves out,’ said Mrs Munn, retiring.

  ‘You are sorry? That is no good to me. Take your sorry, keep it. It will not feed me or my family in Rouen.’

  ‘I didn’t seek this position. You are undoubtedly better suited to it than I am. If it were up to me, I’d ask Lady Deverell to keep you.’

  Edie wasn’t sure she meant this, but it seemed to soften the Frenchwoman a little. She dabbed her eyes, sniffed and threw a cosmetics bag into the suitcase.

  ‘I don’t want to work for her anyway. Putain.’

  She threw a jar of face cream on top of the other things.

  ‘Don’t you like her?’

  ‘She is silly, spoiled, vain, vulgar, stupid.’ With each epithet, Sylvie added another item to her case, hurling them so hard Edie thought they might break.

  She stood well back and made for the large square window. What a light and pleasant room this was. She lifted the sash to allow some of the warm, over-ripe August air in.

  She thought it best to say nothing more. Sylvie clearly needed to give vent to her sorrow and rage, and she had no intention of standing in her way.

  Instead she looked out at the departing cars and carriages crowding the drive, while Sylvie threw things and ranted in French.

  Having slammed the valise shut, the ousted maid remembered Edie’s presence and turned to her.

  ‘I will be gone from here soon,’ she said. ‘I have decided to go to London. But I will give you one warning. Keep your eyes and your ears shut. Things are going on in this house that you don’t want to know about. I am happy to be away from it all. Happy, I tell you! I pass it to you, willingly.’

  Edie supposed that she meant the affair between Lady Deverell and Charles, but she mustn’t give herself away, so she merely shook her head and wished Sylvie the best of luck for her future.

  Sylvie gave her a look of disgust and flounced out, valise in hand.

  Edie sat down on the bed – more comfortable than the one she had failed to become accustomed to upstairs – and tried to accept that she was now Lady Deverell’s personal maid. She wondered what Charles would make of the appointment. Would this ease or hinder their plans? It would make any liaison difficult to conceal from Her Ladyship, she supposed.

  The thought of Charles induced a flutter and she lay down on the bed, suddenly weak. She was still there when there was a knock on the door and a stone-faced Jenny appeared, some garments over her arm.

  ‘Your new uniform,’ she said, throwing them on the bed. ‘Got yourself comfy, I see.’

  ‘It’s a stroke of luck. I wasn’t expecting it.’

  Edie sat up and fingered the lacy edges of her apron.

  ‘I’ll bet. You seem to have one of those faces that fit. Well, I wish you joy of it.’

  She stalked off.

  It didn’t matter if she was unpopular in the servants’ hall, Edie reminded herself. She would hardly have to spend any time down there any more.

  She tried on the new uniform and found that it fitted her much better than the last, arranging itself around her bust and hips so that her silhouette curved gracefully in and out in all the right places. The little cap was trickier to pin to her hair than the plain cotton affair she had worn before. It was delicate, trimmed with Brussels lace, and she was hardly aware she had it on. Only the mirror revealed the truth.

  She was still looking at the figure she cut as a lady’s maid when the door to the chamber opened again – no knocking this time – and Lady Deverell stood behind her, still in her dressing gown with her mane of red hair about her shoulders.

  Never having seen her so, Edie was struck almost dumb.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, whirling around. ‘I’m sorry.’ Though what she was apologising for, she couldn’t really say.

  ‘Sylvie’s gone, then, has she?’

  ‘Only just.’

  ‘Thought she’d kick up more of a fuss, to be honest.’

  Edie agreed she had every right to, but kept her opinion to herself. She should curtsey! Why hadn’t she curtsied?

  Her quick awkward bob made Lady Deverell laugh.

  ‘Mrs Munn said you were inexperienced. She’s always right, of course. Good old Munn. That just made me want you more.’

  ‘If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’m not really sure why you wanted to engage me.’

  ‘Oh, darling, it doesn’t do to question these things. I’m your gift horse.’ She bared all her teeth, big and gleaming. ‘Don’t look me in the mouth, whatever you do.’

  ‘I’m very grateful, of course, but …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘I’m afraid you might find me a little inexpert after Sylvie. With hair, in particular.’

  ‘Darling, I know how to dress hair. I’m better at it than half the lady’s maids in England. No.’ She sat down in the wicker chair beside the bed. ‘I don’t need a coiffeuse.’

  Edie laid one palm flat on the dressing-table surface. She felt the need of its support. Lady Deverell had a most peculiar look in her eye.

  ‘When I first saw you, last week at the charity dinner, something about you drew my eye straight away. It wasn’t your clumsiness, either, though plenty of people noticed that. I felt as if I knew you, as if we’d met before. I’ve been racking my brains all week and I simply must ask you. Have we?’

  ‘No, ma’am, never. I have … seen you before. But you wouldn’t have noticed me. I was in the audience.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve seen me on stage?’ Lady Deverell stared. ‘You’ve been to London?’

  ‘I’m from London, ma’am.’

  ‘Really? Not a bumpkin like the other parlourmaids? How extraordinary. What possessed you to come here?’

  ‘I wanted a change of air.’

  Lady Deverell clearly found this as unbelievable as her stepson had. She let the words linger in both of their ears, a smile slowly curving to the fullest extent.

  ‘How fascinatingly opaque. Well, you’ve certainly found that here. The back of beyond. Ditchwater is relatively exciting.’

  ‘I’ve been too busy to think of anything, ma’am.’

  ‘Of course. A servant’s life is much the same in Mayfair as in Kingsreach. So we are not acquainted?’

  Edie shook her head, not trusting her voice.

  ‘I’m not the only person to notice you, of course,’ Lady Deverell continued, still with her wide, beguiling smile.

  Edie knew she was supposed to supply some filler for the ensuing pause.

  ‘Aren’t you, ma’am?’ she said helplessly, feeling that she knew what might be coming next.

  ‘Oh, come now. We all know when a man’s interested in us, don’t we? You’ve grown up in London, as I did. I could spot a prospective suitor from the age of eight.’

  ‘A man, ma’am? I was asked to the picture palace by His Lordship’s chauffeur, if that’s what you –’

  ‘That’s not what I mean, and you know it.’ The smile was thinning out now, cracking at the corners.

  ‘I hardly know …’

  Edie looked desperately at the window. There was no other escape route.

  ‘Are you a sly one, Edie Prior? Are you a little liar? Or are you
truly a naïve little fool, as you try to make out?’

  Edie shook her head, her body in revolt, her palm slippery against the shiny dresser now.

  ‘If I’ve noticed him looking, I’m sure you have. Sir Charles. My beloved stepson.’

  ‘I don’t …’

  ‘Keep clear.’

  ‘I’ve heard the rumours.’

  ‘They’re all true.’ She paused. ‘Just out of interest, what rumours have you heard?’

  ‘A girl had his baby. Former parlourmaid, I believe.’

  ‘Oh, that one. Yes, that’s definitely true. And you don’t want to follow in her idiotic footsteps, I presume? He didn’t marry her, did he? And he won’t marry you.’

  ‘I never thought for a moment –’

  ‘Good. Gold-diggers don’t prosper here at Deverell Hall.’ She paused and chuckled.

  Edie hardly knew where to look. She could hardly laugh along with her.

  ‘Except me, of course,’ said Lady Deverell. ‘But there’s only one Ruby Redford. Truly original, truly unique. That’s what the drama critic at the Standard said, and I’m pretty sure the Deverell men would agree with him.’

  She looked towards the door at that and lowered her voice.

  ‘If you’re to be my lady’s maid, Edie, there are certain things you should know. But if I tell you, you must be clear that they must never, ever be repeated. Not to anybody – none of the servants, not even your closest friend.’

  ‘I’m not a tattler, ma’am, never have been.’

  ‘You’ll find out eventually, so I might as well tell you now. When His Lordship’s away, as he is once a fortnight or so, I sometimes receive a visitor.’

  Edie could scarcely believe Lady Deverell was about to confess her affair with Charles, and she felt sure the flush of her countenance gave away her prior knowledge, but she simply swallowed and waited for more.

  ‘It’ll shock you, I’m sure, but it would shock you more if you found out another way – I have a little dalliance going on with Charles. It’s nothing serious. And it’s none of your business. So if you see him in my chambers, you’ll know to turn a blind eye, won’t you, dear?’

  ‘Y-yes, ma’am.’

  ‘Good girl. Oh, dear, you really are shocked, aren’t you? Don’t be. There’s only five years between us, and I doubt there’s a married noblewoman in England who hasn’t taken a lover at some time or other. I’m sure Hugh has some tart on the go in St James’s. His club seems to have an awful lot of functions lately.’

  ‘Did Sylvie know?’

  ‘Oh, dear me, yes.’

  ‘Aren’t you afraid she’ll …?’

  ‘She knows better than that. Who’d believe her? It would look like sheer malice, a nose out of joint. And she would never work again. I know it makes me sound awful, but I’ve lived my life surrounded by male attention. I miss it, Edie. You can’t imagine what it’s like … I hope you won’t judge me too harshly. Not that I care if you do. Anyway, Charles seems to have taken a shine to you and I don’t care for rivals. I like to keep them where I can watch them. What a way to earn a promotion, eh? But I’m sure you’ll be super. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d really like a bath. Could you be a dear and run one for me?’

  Edie followed her downstairs to her suite and did as she was bade. The bathroom was relatively new, all its fixtures and fittings of shiny copper pipe. Hot water steamed from the tap quickly. Did she have to do anything about towels? Soap? Laying out a bathrobe?

  She found most of what she needed in various hampers and cabinets.

  This is what I wanted. To be close to her. How much closer than this? Running her bath, attending to her intimate needs?

  Why did it feel so hollow, and so frightening?

  ‘I think it’s ready, ma’am,’ she said, poking her head around the folding door once she had turned off the taps.

  ‘You think it is? I’ll have to see. Could you lay out my clothes for the day? Something suitable for driving, I think. I’m considering a visit to the Chudleighs at the Grange.’

  She left Edie with this mystifying instruction. What was suitable for driving and visiting? She stepped into the vast walk-in wardrobe and breathed in the luxury that surrounded her. Silks and furs, satins and velvets, yards of bugle beading and sequinned hems. She put her face against them, gathered handfuls of them, feasted her eyes on the rainbow of colours. But none of them seemed suited to driving.

  A little further back she found daywear, along with tweeds and riding habits and all manner of more serviceable garments. She decided on a matching skirt and jacket in navy and white with a pearl-buttoned blouse.

  But what to wear underneath? Drawers full of underwear had to be consulted, and this was an embarrassment to Edie, who had never had charge of another woman’s smalls before. It seemed so indecent to rifle through the piles of knickers and stockings. She chose silk, to keep Her Ladyship cool, in a dull gold colour. As she laid it out, she wondered if she would be called upon to attach the suspenders and tighten the bodice. Why on earth couldn’t she dress herself, as Edie had to? After all, she must have spent decades wrestling with costumes. It was not as if she was a helpless little human ornament, like some of the fine ladies one heard of.

  She still held the knickers in her hands when the door opened again.

  Edie turned to see Sir Charles, freshly washed and dressed and smelling rather strongly of an expensive cologne, on the threshold.

  ‘Oh, so it’s true,’ he said.

  ‘Go,’ whispered Edie in a panic, flapping the knickers at him. She could hear Lady Deverell’s bathwater sloshing about, but this still seemed absurdly risky.

  Charles did not care about risk, though. She should have known that by now.

  ‘She wants to keep her eye on you. Be careful.’

  ‘Listen, perhaps we shouldn’t …’

  ‘Oh, no, you don’t.’ He came closer.

  She tried to step away, but he caught her by the wrist and pulled her to his chest.

  ‘You don’t get out of it that easily,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘This makes things a little awkward, yes. But it can still be done, believe me. Tonight, Edie. Tonight’s the night.’

  ‘How can it be?’

  But he sauntered away without another word, leaving Edie fit to faint.

  Her hands still shook when she brought Lady Deverell’s warm towels into the bathroom.

  ‘Oh, don’t be shy,’ said Lady Deverell, placing a fortunate misconstruction on Edie’s nervousness. ‘You’ve seen a naked woman before, I suppose?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Edie, willing herself to stop dithering over that dreadful man.

  All the same, now Lady Deverell mentioned it, it did seem rather odd to be in the same room as her naked body, even if was mostly concealed beneath the milky, soapy surface of the bathwater.

  She was magnificent through and through, thought Edie with a flicker of pride, glancing at her swan neck and elegant collarbone. Below it, her breasts were full and high, sloping down to the water, beneath which they disappeared long before her eye reached the nipples.

  Not that she wanted to see them. The thought made her hot with embarrassment, especially when she considered that Charles had seen every scrap of that fragrant skin. The back of her neck began to crawl and a wave of nausea almost made her stagger so that she had to put a hand on the side of the bath for support.

  ‘I say, you look quite green. Are you all right?’

  Lady Deverell sat up straight, water ploughing and plunging around her. Nipples. Don’t look.

  But she couldn’t tear her eyes away and the sight of them made her obscurely angry, choking her words of reply.

  ‘I’m a little …’

  ‘I daresay you haven’t had breakfast, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, that’s no good, is it? I’ll have something sent up for you when I go down. Go and sit down in the bedroom. I can dry myself.’

  Edie was in the little bedside chair, her forehe
ad on her knees, when Lady Deverell walked back in, wrapped and turbaned in towels.

  The events of the morning had defeated Edie and now her head and heart were a horrible stew. She was not at all sure she could pursue her plan any more. It seemed to have reached its crisis, much more quickly than she expected and too soon to show her hand. If she did it now, she would be laughed out of Deverell Hall, or worse.

  But, if she stopped and thought, coolly and collectedly, she could see that she had the best chance of all now. She could find a way into Lady Deverell’s affections. At the very least, she could maintain a modicum of her attention. And wasn’t that, after all, the only thing she asked? Why spoil it with mistimed revelations?

  She sat quietly and swallowed her panic and let her confidence reassert itself at its own pace.

  Just don’t think about Charles. Just don’t think about it and it’ll go away.

  ‘You still look ghastly,’ said Lady Deverell cheerfully, inspecting the clothes Edie had set out for her. ‘Oh, that old thing. I haven’t worn it in months.’ She picked up the skirt and sneered at it, but she did not demand it be exchanged for another.

  ‘I think it would suit you,’ said Edie, risking a look up.

  ‘Well, perhaps you’re right. No, don’t get up. I can manage. Just this once.’

  Edie put her forehead back on her knees while Lady Deverell attended to her own costuming.

  ‘Goodness, I hope it isn’t morning sickness,’ she said, a little sharply.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ cried Edie.

  ‘All right, calm yourself. You’ve heard what can happen to maids in this house. It’s not completely beyond the bounds of possibility, is it? I wondered if my stepson had made a very early impression on you, that’s all.’

  Edie couldn’t answer this without lying, so she remained silent.

  ‘He is terribly attractive, after all,’ Lady Deverell continued, her eyes on Edie as she fastened her stockings. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘If you like that sort of thing,’ said Edie.

  ‘Oh, I think we all do, don’t we, dear? Dashing man, full of charm, dripping with compliments. And an absolute genius between the sheets –’

  ‘Oh, don’t!’ Edie couldn’t help herself.

  Lady Deverell stood tall, a glamorous amazon in dull-gold underwear.