“Miss Sterlington,” Mrs. Nitsweller said. “Might I introduce to you Suzanne Miller, your new maid.”
Amber kept her gaze unaffected as she looked at the woman who bobbed a curtsy before her. “It is an honor to have been requested to assist you, and I thank you for the position,” the woman said.
The new maid had surprisingly high tones, not the Cockney accent Helen had retained. Suzanne was also older than any other maid Amber had had, likely in her thirties. Amber hoped that her age communicated experience.
“I am to call you Miller, then?” Amber asked. She’d never had an actual lady’s maid, who would traditionally be addressed by their surname. Amber turned her attention to Mrs. Nitsweller when the answer was not immediate.
“She is more of an abigail than a lady’s maid as she has served multiple women in a household before now,” Mrs. Nitsweller said, causing Amber to purse her lips in disapproval. “But she is very skilled and well recommended. She even reads some. In a few years’ time, I’m sure she will arise to that station.”
“So I shall call you Suzanne,” Amber said coldly so that both women would know of her irritation that she’d been told this woman was a lady’s maid when she was not one.
Suzanne nodded and kept her eyes on the floor.
“Might I leave you to your toilet?” Mrs. Nitsweller asked, her introduction complete.
Amber nodded and waited for the housekeeper to leave before she explained her expectations to the new maid. She always dressed before the rest of her toilet, with a cape to shield her clothes. She preferred at least a portion of her hair to be worn about her shoulders in order to show off the color and curl. She did not fancy tightly curled fringe at the sides of her forehead though she would tolerate long ringlets so far as they reached her chin at least.
Beads, flowers, ribbon, and feathers were appropriate so long as they did not distract from her natural beauty. She was partial to gold, white, and green accessories as they brought out the color of her eyes and hair.
She had a diamond tiara she wore on occasion but not often as it was such a memorable piece. It was kept in her father’s safe and only Lord or Lady Marchent could retrieve it. Her other jewelry was stored in her mother’s room; Suzanne would need to coordinate with Nelson to procure whatever items best fit the event’s dress. The only piece she kept in her own room was the amber pendant she wore whenever an occasion warranted the unique and personal item.
“Very well, Miss,” Suzanne said when Amber finished. “I shall do my best to meet your expectations.”
“Be aware that if you do not, you shall not last a fortnight in this household,” Amber warned. There was no reason to be less than honest with the underling. “I was far too indulging of my former maid’s inadequacies, and I will not be so generous again.”
“Yes, Miss,” Suzanne said again, bowing slightly in response.
Convinced she’d made her point, Amber turned her back to the woman so Suzanne could help her out of her day dress and into the silver crepe evening gown she’d chosen for the night’s events. They would be attending two assemblies tonight: an evening party and a coming-out ball, though Amber felt it ridiculous that the girl’s parents were holding it so late in the season. She’d seen the girl at two different events and found it very bad ton to have a ball touted as a debut when the girl had already made appearances. Still, there promised to be a good turnout, several of Amber’s admirers would be in attendance, and Amber’s parents were well acquainted with the family.
There was always a goal to be achieved regardless of the event, and she was prepared to make the most of it.
Chapter 3
At ten minutes past the hour at which they were supposed to leave, Amber hurried into the closed carriage that had been waiting for far too long.
“You have made all of us late,” her mother reprimanded as the footman closed the door.
Amber put a hand to her chest. The high stays, pulled tight to accentuate her small waist and large bosom, made it particularly difficult for her to regain her breath. “It is not my fault,” she said between tight breaths. “The new abigail is hardly worthy of the recommendation she received.” The carriage lurched forward, and Amber reached out to brace herself against the side until the carriage had gained a rhythm on the cobblestones. Once she could draw a full breath, she continued her complaint. “It took her three attempts to arrange my hair in a style I am still only half pleased with.”
She sat back against the cushions and crossed her arms, keeping to herself that in order to create the full topknot, Suzanne had rolled a pair of Amber’s stockings into her hair. The very idea was humiliating. Amber had never needed padding or props to give herself the appearance of a thick coiffure. She reflected on the complaints she’d had these last weeks about Helen’s styling. Now Amber had a new maid but was still unhappy with the results. What could be the cause?
Feeling the anxiety of such thoughts far stronger than was comfortable, Amber cast her eyes upon her sister—younger by barely a year—pouting in the corner of the carriage as she looked out the window. At least her mother had convinced Darra of the importance of her attendance tonight. At least that.
“I’ll have no patience for a case of the doldrums tonight, Darra,” Amber warned.
Darra turned her eyes on Amber, matching her glare. “I do not feel well tonight. I should be abed.”
“You should be at my side, exactly where you belong,” Amber countered. “You are simply put out that Mama did not order you a new gown.”
“You have had three new gowns just this month,” Darra spat back, leaning forward in her seat a bit which further convinced Amber that her younger sister was not ill at all. “I have had nothing new since just after we arrived in London.”
“You are not expected to make a match this season,” Amber replied. “Next season you’ll have all the attention, and I need not remind you that it is because of my—”
“Your generosity,” Darra cut in, looking back to the window and pulling her velvet cape tighter around her shoulders. “When the idea was presented for us to have our first seasons together, I thought it would account for more than simply serving as your companion.” She said it with such lack of feeling that Amber felt a prickle of regret in her chest. It had not been her desire for Darra to be miserable, and she had noted her waning interests as the weeks had passed. But Amber needed Darra’s attention at these events and was unwilling to drop the argument.
“Have you not danced ’til the early morning hours with men of consequence and fashion? You have not had your own maid instead of sharing with mine? You have not mingled with the upper crust of society?”
“That is enough,” her mother said, though her tone was not intent enough to render Amber silent.
Amber kept her eyes fixed on Darra, who was not looking at her. “You shall return next season with all the polish and manner of a woman rather than a wide-eyed debutante who knows nothing of the polite world. Forgive me for not feeling sympathy toward your discomfort when you are most certainly the larger beneficiary of this experience.”
Amber awaited Darra’s rebuttal, but her sister simply leaned her head against the back of the cushion and made no answer.
“Leave your sister at peace,” Lady Marchent said. “You wanted her attendance and she is here.” She turned to Darra and patted her shoulder. “We shall have a new gown made for you, my dear. It is not my intention that you should be left out.”
Amber turned away, irritated that her mother had risen to Darra’s defense. She had always suspected a preference on Lady Marchent’s part to Darra’s quiet and inquisitive nature and moments like this seemed to confirm it. Since coming to London, a competitive spirit had sprung up between the sisters. Amber suspected it was due in part to them both vying for their mother’s attention, which she had expected would be more heavily turned in her direction.
In the rush of her new abigail’s failings, Amber had not retrieved her wrap and shivered a bit in
the cooling temperature of the evening. Or perhaps the shiver was in response to the mood of the carriage.
Amber watched the town houses passing outside the carriage and could only hope that the pending society of the evening would push away the dark thoughts and feelings that currently plagued her. By way of distraction, she reviewed her expectations of the evening, the compliments she would receive and the requests for carriage rides and morning visits that would result from the company she kept. Her mood would be certainly be restored through the attentions of her suitors. Surely Darra’s mood would improve as well, but even if it did not, Amber would not allow her sister’s pouting to set the tone of the evening.
Chapter 4
It was after one o’clock in the morning when Amber next approached her bedchamber. She was unhappy to have left the ball early, but Darra had worsened by the hour and finally begged Amber to go home as her throat was inflamed and her head pounded.
Amber had acted quite put out by the early departure, but in truth she felt badly for having forced Darra’s company when she truly was ill. She told her sister during the drive home that if she’d known she felt so poorly she’d have never insisted on her company, but Amber was quite sure Darra believed her words as much as Amber did, which was not at all. Even given the fact that Darra’s complaints had been honest ones, Amber was glad to have had the evening.
She’d been seated next to Lord Norwin at dinner and found his manner more relaxed and personable than it had been during prior events. Perhaps because it was the first time they had been given opportunity for such lengthy conversation. He seemed impressed in particular with her talk of horses. She had little enjoyment of the animals but knew a great deal about them due to her mother’s insistence that she be able to converse about what was most gentlemen’s favorite topic. That Amber knew the perfect places to laugh as he regaled her with stories not as humorous as he believed helped a great deal as well, and he became more and more comfortable as the evening progressed.
On the ride home, Lady Marchent told Amber that according to Mrs. Heyworth, Lord Norwin’s father, the Earl of Lanketer, was rather poorly. Enough so that Lord Norwin might soon be allowed to occupy his father’s seat in the House of Lords, perhaps permanently. Not only did that stand to forecast that Lord Norwin could become the Earl at any given time, it also meant that his parliamentary seat would require he return to London every season. The expectation of living in London for at least a portion of the year was a significant recommendation for Lord Norwin’s suit, which Amber was considering to encourage.
Amber’s head was full of such thoughts as she pushed open the door of her bedchamber.
“How was your evening, Miss?”
The unfamiliar voice gave Amber a start. She’d had to ring for Helen after ten o’clock, but it seemed Suzanne had waited for Amber.
“The evening went very well.” Amber had all but decided to let the maid go in the morning, but now thought perhaps she should sleep on it to make sure she didn’t react rashly. It hadn’t been a simple task to replace Helen and could be some time before her mother would be able to procure a maid of higher recommendation than Suzanne.
Amber held out her arms so Suzanne could undo the straps and clasps of the evening gown, turning when needed and stepping out of the gown when Suzanne had pooled it at her feet. Suzanne removed Amber’s petticoat next, then the stays, and then the shift, laying them neatly over the dressing bar as she did so. Amber took note of the woman’s attention and admitted to herself that despite Amber’s displeasure with her hair tonight, she’d received numerous compliments. Only Amber knew she owed the presentation to a pair of stockings.
Suzanne helped her into her nightdress and dressing gown before Amber sat down at her mirror, feeling the heaviness of sleep reach her eyes as Suzanne began removing the pins from her hair. It seemed as though it had taken a hundred of them to hold everything in place tonight.
“Miss?” Suzanne asked, causing Amber to open her eyes and meet the woman’s reflection in the mirror. “Might I speak plainly?”
Speak plainly? Suzanne had been under Amber’s employ for less than a day. What a presumptuous woman! The request was so out of place that it piqued her curiosity, however, and kept Amber from responding with the irritation she felt. “You may.”
Suzanne kept her eyes on Amber’s hair as she continued removing the pins. She tucked each pin in the pocket of her apron, obviously nervous, which meant the servant had not asked for such a liberty without understanding the risk she took in doing so.
“I am quite distressed at displeasing you on my very first night. In hopes of improving my service for tomorrow, I thought to become more familiar with your wardrobe and tastes. I explored your bedchamber, and I found the box in the back of your wardrobe. Do you know it?”
“Why would a box in the back of my wardrobe concern you?” Amber snapped. “I have any number of boxes for hats and trinkets.”
Suzanne looked up and met Amber’s eyes in the mirror. “Yes, Miss, but this box was different. It was filled with . . . hair.”
“Hair?” Amber asked, confused. “A wig?”
“No, Miss, your hair.” She took a breath and did not meet Amber’s reflection as she spoke more quickly. “If you know of it I will not mention it again.”
Amber’s irritation was profound. “Are you completely addled? I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Suzanne pursed her lips as she threaded the stockings out of Amber’s hair. The bulk of her hair fell down Amber’s back once it was released, causing her scalp to tingle with relief. Suzanne went to the wardrobe, opened it, and returned with a wooden box similar in size to the cigar boxes Amber had seen in her father’s study, though not as fine. Suzanne set the box on the dressing table and opened the lid.
Amber gasped as she looked upon the contents, which were just as Suzanne had said—tangles of hair in Amber’s exact shade. “What is this? I have never laid eyes upon this in my life.”
“I took the liberty of talking of it to your mother’s maid, Nelson, and she confided that your former maid had said you were losing hair at an alarming rate. She’d gone about collecting it.”
“Collecting my . . . hair?” Amber was too shocked to feel anything but confusion as she stared at the box.
“She was afraid it might be blamed on her if you took notice of it.”
“Of course it shall be blamed on her! She was below her appointment and obviously rough amid her duties.”
“I can understand why you would assume as much,” Suzanne said, her words hesitant as she continued. “But when I was working on your arrangement tonight, I noted much hair falling to the ground. More than I have ever seen. Even now, upon removing your pins I am shocked at how much hair has come out with them.” She stepped around Amber and opened the wide pocket on the side of her apron where she’d been depositing the pins as she removed them.
Amber was taken aback at how much hair was gathered there. She could barely see the dark-colored pins amid the auburn strands. She thought back to the concern she’d felt earlier that evening regarding the difficulty with her hair and felt a coldness in her chest. She turned in her chair and looked at the section of rug beneath Suzanne’s feet. The dark strands of hair—seemingly dozens of them—stood out on the blue and gray rug.
Amber lifted a hand to her head. She’d barely given her hair any of her own attention since arriving in London as Helen had taken on the responsibility. Prior to leaving Hampton Grove, however, she had at times attended to her own styling when the maid she shared with Darra was attending her sister. She had memory of her thumb and middle finger not touching, so thick was the girth of her gathered hair. She pulled her hair together now and noted that her thumb overlapped her finger to the first knuckle. Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned sincerely frightened eyes upon her maid.
“What does it mean? You must know of this based upon your experience with other ladies.”
Suzanne shook her
head, looking truly distressed. “I have worked with hair that has thinned with age, of course, and I have attended to wigs and hairpieces for different matrons—that’s how I knew a set of stockings could give you the proper appearance this evening—but I have never known of anyone losing hair like this, Miss. And certainly not among young women like yourself. Not ever.” She stepped behind Amber again and gingerly took the hair from Amber’s hand and parted it in the back. “If you’ll but use your hand mirror and turn your back to the dressing table glass, you will see what concerns me the most.”
Feeling light-headed, Amber did as Suzanne suggested, holding the hand mirror in front of her face and turning around on her stool to see the larger reflection in the looking glass. It took a few movements of the mirror before Amber saw what Suzanne wanted her to see, and she gasped, lifting her hand to what she could only explain as an empty spot. It was an inch or two in width, and she hit Suzanne’s hand away in order to run her own fingers over the smooth patch of skin. Stunned by this discovery, Amber dropped her hair and turned back to the mirror, replacing the hand mirror on her dressing table.
While watching herself in the mirror, she ran her hand through the length of her hair, then stared at the strands left woven around her fingers. Too much. She shook the hair off her hand and watched it float to the floor. “Leave me,” she finally said, quick and sharp.
“Miss, I am—”
“Leave me,” Amber repeated with a hiss this time, fixing the woman with a glare. “And do not gossip about this to the other servants as you did with Nelson. I will not stand for it.”
Suzanne cast her eyes to the ground and bowed out of the room without a word, collecting Amber’s garments as she did so.
Once the door was shut, Amber first looked at the hair on the floor then at the hair in the box still open on her dressing table. It looked like a tangled pillow, and she thought that perhaps it looked like more than it was, but upon closer inspection, she could tell the mass was densely organized. She imagined Helen gathering the strands from the floor after attending to Amber in the mornings and evening and hiding them in the box for fear of making it known.
A Heart Revealed Page 3
