The Dressmaker’s Secret

by Charlotte Betts

  ‘Be careful of the pins, Ma’am,’ I warned as I helped the Princess to remove the emerald gown.

  ‘I cannot bear not knowing what is happening in London,’ she said, fretfully. ‘I need to know the mood of the people so I’m prepared for the kind of reception I’ll receive.’ She sighed. ‘Write to Lady Hamilton and ask her to travel back to London with me after Henry Brougham’s visit. Always assuming, of course, that he does eventually grace me with his presence.’

  ‘There’s still no confirmation of his arrival, Ma’am?’

  She shook her head. ‘It angers me that I came to Lyons at his request instead of going straight to London. Soon the winter will come. I don’t care to travel long distances in the cold.’

  I sat down at the Princess’s writing desk. Once I’d finished her letter I returned to the parlour, where Alessandro was reading with Victorine. Peggy was propped up beside them.

  ‘I see you have two attentive pupils today, Signor Fiorelli,’ I said.

  ‘They’re working very hard.’ Alessandro’s smile was warm. ‘Perhaps a walk in the garden as a reward?’

  Outside, we ambled along the gravel paths while Victorine skipped ahead, clutching Peggy under her arm. Russet leaves twirled down from an oak tree and I smiled as the little girl jumped up to catch them.

  ‘The poor Princess,’ I said, shivering in the autumnal breeze. ‘Her spies have informed her Louise Demont is in London, ready to provide evidence against her. The sooner Lord Brougham arrives, the better. She’ll not regain her equilibrium until she’s faced her antagonists in London.’

  ‘Once she’s sailed for England, we can return to Pesaro,’ said Alessandro. ‘I want so much to go home to my family.’ A gust of wind loosed one of my curls and he tucked it behind my ear. ‘You look strained,’ he said. ‘What is it?’

  I hesitated then said, ‘But where is my home? Isn’t home wherever your family is?’

  Alessandro studied my face, his expression suddenly watchful. ‘Has all this talk of London unsettled you?’

  I shrugged. ‘I keep wondering about my father…’

  ‘You can’t change the past,’ he said, kissing the tip of my nose. ‘You must look forward to the future.’

  I sat up late stitching the Princess’s gown and then lay awake while I went over and over in my head what Sarah had told me about my parents. I tried desperately to recall my father but could only hear Joe’s cruel voice in my mind. For nearly as long as I could remember there had been just Sarah and me. Alessandro’s friendship and love had eased my loneliness but still I wept from a painful yearning to belong, to know that I was connected by blood with another.

  In the morning I took out the quilted petticoat and counted the gold coins sewn into the hem. I sat on the edge of the bed for an age deciding what to do.

  After breakfast I asked the Baron if it was convenient for the Princess to have a further fitting.

  Half an hour later she admitted me to her bedroom and I helped her into the gown. ‘It suits you,’ I said.

  ‘I shall look very fine once the pearls are sewn onto the skirt,’ she said, studying her reflection in the mirror.

  I busied myself adjusting a shoulder seam while I plucked up courage. ‘Ma’am?’ I said. ‘There’s something I should like to ask you, if I may.’

  She waved a hand. ‘Ask!’

  ‘Since Henry Brougham has still not arrived,’ I said, ‘I wondered if it might be helpful if I travelled to England? You wished to know what kind of reception you might receive in London. I could gauge that and write to you. Also, I could visit Lady Hamilton and request she comes to attend you.’

  The Princess raised her eyebrows. ‘Why would you do this?’

  ‘I have a particular reason for wishing to visit London.’

  ‘Explain yourself!’

  My mouth was dry. ‘A little while ago I discovered Signora Barton was not my mother.’

  The Princess pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes gleaming. ‘How intriguing!’

  ‘When she was dying, she confessed that, after my real mother died when I was four, she stole me from my family,’ I said. ‘It came as a great shock.’

  ‘I can see that it must have.’

  ‘She was fond of me and worried about my father bringing me up without my mother to guide him and so she took me away. Now that I know I have a father in London, I want to find him.’

  ‘You might not like him,’ said the Princess. ‘Families can be very strange.’ She sighed. ‘This I know for a fact.’

  I waited, my fists clenched so hard my nails bit into my palms.

  ‘You must finish my gown quickly, Signorina Barton,’ the Princess said. ‘You will want to travel before the winter storms arrive.’

  I was anxious to speak privately with Alessandro but there were ears behind every door in the cramped rented villa where we stayed with the Princess. Later that afternoon, I asked him to accompany me to the remains of the Roman amphitheatre. Hand in hand, we strolled through the cobbled streets of Lyons, my apprehension growing with each step I took.

  At last we stood at the brow of the hill looking down to where archaeologists were excavating the outer perimeter of the arena. I could delay no longer and, stomach churning, told Alessandro that I had decided to go to London.

  ‘No!’ he said, the colour draining from his cheeks.

  ‘I leave in a few days and the Princess has written to Lady Hamilton telling her to expect me,’ I said, trying to keep my voice calm.

  ‘You could be gone for months and you didn’t think to discuss this with me?’

  The last thing I wanted was to hurt him. ‘Alessandro, it was a decision I had to make by myself.’ I clenched my fists. ‘I cannot be at peace until I find my father.’

  ‘But you don’t even remember him.’ Alessandro’s chin quivered. ‘He’s nothing to you.’

  I looked away from him, unable to face his misery. ‘It’s true that, even if I find him, it’s possible I may feel no sense of connection. But don’t you see, I must be sure?’

  He gripped my shoulders. ‘Please don’t go.’ His jaw clenched. ‘I forbid it!’

  One of the archaeologists glanced up from his digging and stared curiously at us.

  ‘I have to know where I come from and you have no right to forbid me to find out,’ I said.

  He stepped back as if I’d slapped him. ‘But I want that right,’ he said, quietly. ‘I love you and I thought you loved me?’

  I couldn’t bear seeing pain in his eyes and knowing I was the cause of it. ‘You know I do!’ I reached out to him. ‘But surely you understand how important this is to me? I’ve spent most of my life wandering with no place to call home. Since Ma died it’s as if the ground has been swept from under my feet.’

  He grasped my hand. ‘If you loved me, you wouldn’t leave me.’

  I stared at him, wounded he was thinking only of himself and didn’t understand my feelings. ‘If you loved me, you’d let me go with your blessing,’ I said. I swallowed a wave of nausea and spoke in a more conciliatory fashion. ‘I won’t be away more than a few months. Don’t you want me to be happy, Alessandro?’

  He ran his hands through his curls, leaving them standing up like a halo. ‘I shall make you happy. I will! I love you, Emilia.’ Imprisoning me so tightly in his arms that I could barely breathe, he pressed desperate kisses on my face. ‘I can’t bear to lose you. Stay here and marry me!’

  I struggled free from his clinging embrace. This wasn’t how a proposal of marriage should be. Where were the sweet words, the consideration for my needs and the gentle caresses? ‘You know I love you,’ I said, ‘but I could never marry a man who would deprive me of the chance of finding my family.’

  Alessandro shook his head. ‘Too much time has passed to build the years of memories that bind you into a proper family.’ He cupped my chin in his hands and made me look at him. ‘My family love you already. Mamma even unwrapped her wedding veil the other day to show me. We’ll have chil
dren and make a family of our own. Emilia, tell me you’ll marry me?’

  I shivered with the icy realisation that we had reached an impasse. I’d hoped so much that Alessandro would propose, but not like this.

  ‘Emilia?’ he said.

  If he truly loved me, he’d wait for me. ‘Alessandro…’ I said, my voice breaking. ‘I have to go to England but I’ll come back.’

  His face crumpled. ‘You won’t,’ he said, his voice leaden with despair. ‘You’ll find your father and want to stay with him.’

  ‘I will come back!’ I said. ‘Meanwhile, we can write to each other.’ I took a deep breath and gripped his hand. ‘Look at me! I love you, Alessandro, and I do want to marry you, but I must come to you with a willing heart. If we marry now I may never have the chance again to look for my father,’ I said, ‘especially if we have children. I’d always have regrets and that would place an intolerable strain on our love.’

  ‘How long must I wait? I need you here, with me.’ He pulled his hand away.

  I caught hold of his sleeve. ‘Write to me!’ I pleaded.

  He didn’t look at me but after a long moment he gave a brief nod and slipped out of my grasp.

  Shaking, I stared after him as he hurried down the hill, unable to believe that Alessandro didn’t love me enough to let me leave with his blessing.

  Chapter 12

  November 1819

  London

  It was growing dark when the Lidcomes’ carriage drew up outside Lady Hamilton’s family home in Portman Street. I glanced through the window at a street of narrow townhouses built of grimy yellow brick and couldn’t help thinking how dreary the scene looked by comparison with Italy’s golden stone and colour-washed façades.

  Mrs Lidcome patted my wrist. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to come in with you, Miss Barton?’

  I resisted the impulse to accept. I’d set this train of events in motion and must see it through. ‘I’ve trespassed enough on your goodwill,’ I said, ‘but perhaps you’d wait until I’ve gone inside?’ I’d been worrying ever since we left Dover about what I would do if Lady Hamilton hadn’t received the Princess’s letter or if she wasn’t prepared to allow a complete stranger to stay with her.

  ‘My dear, I wouldn’t dream of driving away until I knew you were safe!’ said Mrs Lidcome.

  The carriage door opened and I sighed to see the rain hissing down and bouncing up off the pavement. It had rained without ceasing ever since I’d gone on deck as the packet approached the white cliffs of Dover. A penetrating wind and sullen sky had done nothing to lift my sadly sunken spirits.

  The coachman held an umbrella over my head as I scurried from the carriage. I shivered, contemplating my sodden shoes and damp hem until he returned with my travelling bags, then knocked on the door. I glanced back at Mrs Lidcome, her face ghost-like at the streaming carriage window. She nodded encouragingly.

  I’d been lucky to find such a pleasant travelling companion for the sea crossing. Willy Austin had escorted me on the long journey from Lyons to Calais and left me at an inn while he searched for a suitable chaperone. Mr and Mrs Lidcome had been prepared to undertake the task and I’d kept their children amused while their mother suffered the effects of a rough crossing.

  The door opened. I swallowed my trepidation and went inside.

  Lady Hamilton, dressed in deepest mourning, received me in her elegant drawing room. Unsmiling and dark-haired, she looked me up and down with sharply inquisitive eyes. I dropped a curtsey and she languidly waved her long fingers at a chair.

  ‘I do hope my arrival is not too much of an inconvenience, Lady Hamilton?’ The chair was plumply upholstered and I arranged my damp skirt so as not to sully the pristine cream satin.

  ‘The Princess still requires me to join her?’ Still she didn’t smile or make me feel any less uncomfortable.

  ‘She would be pleased to have your company,’ I said. I glanced at the fire crackling in the marble chimneypiece and longed to sit closer to it.

  Lady Hamilton sighed as she smoothed her impeccably cut skirt. ‘I suppose I must uproot myself to carry out her bidding.’ She pursed her lips. ‘How does she like her Italian lady-in-waiting?’ She leaned her angular body forward and studied me intently.

  ‘The Countess Oldi? I believe the Princess finds her agreeable.’

  Lady Hamilton sniffed. ‘Pergami’s sister, with a failed marriage behind her. And is the Princess still racketing about seeking diversions here, there and everywhere?’

  ‘She’s too apprehensive of what the Prince Regent will do next to take a great deal of enjoyment from anything at present,’ I said.

  ‘Perhaps that is as well. This would not be a good time to make herself look undignified or foolish. The Prince Regent wouldn’t hesitate to use it against her.’

  ‘The Princess would welcome your support. She doesn’t care to return to England attended by her Italian household.’

  Lady Hamilton fixed me with a gimlet stare. ‘And what is your role in her employ, Miss Barton?’

  ‘I suspect you will find it very irregular, Lady Hamilton.’ I was absolutely sure that she would. ‘The Princess’s home in Pesaro is not as imposing as the Villa Caprile and certainly not as magnificent as the Villa d’Este. In fact…’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Lady Hamilton. ‘I understand Villa Vittoria is little more than a farmhouse.’

  ‘The Princess calls it a cottage.’ I hesitated. ‘I’m sure you’re aware how informal she can be…’

  ‘That may be an extremely polite way of describing her actions, Miss Barton,’ said Lady Hamilton with a dry smile. ‘Apparently you came to her rescue after she was involved in a carriage accident?’

  I nodded. ‘Subsequently, she offered me a position as her Mistress of the Wardrobe. And I write her letters for her.’

  ‘How did you come to be in Italy, Miss Barton? What of your family? Surely you were not travelling alone?’

  ‘I was not,’ I said. ‘But I have come to England to find my father.’

  Lady Hamilton’s nostrils flared as if she had scented something unpleasant. ‘You do not know your father, then?’

  I shook my head, realising that she probably imagined I was illegitimate. ‘My father is Sir Frederick Langdon. He used to live in Grosvenor Street. Perhaps you might have heard of him?’

  ‘Indeed I have.’

  Despite my curiosity and excitement, Lady Hamilton’s expression discouraged me from asking her about him. ‘A little while ago I discovered that I was stolen away from my family by my mother’s maid when I was four years old.’

  Lady Hamilton drew in her breath. ‘I remember the scandal. Sir Frederick’s wife drowned herself…’

  ‘My mother,’ I said.

  ‘Do you have proof that you are who you say you are?’

  I shook my head. ‘I want nothing from my father, except to meet him.’

  ‘Are you telling the truth? Are you really the lost Langdon girl?’ Her tone was sharp.

  ‘Yes.’ I looked her firmly in the eye.

  ‘Then at least I may console myself that the Princess has been waited on by the daughter of a member of the landed gentry and not simply another of her waifs and strays.’

  ‘Landed gentry?’

  Lady Hamilton gave me a wintry smile. ‘Your father owns the Langdon Hall estate in Hampshire.’

  ‘So he isn’t still living in Grosvenor Street?’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘I’d hoped to meet him and then travel back to Italy with you,’ I said. ‘But if I have to go to Hampshire…’

  ‘His London house is still in Grosvenor Street, as far as I am aware,’ said Lady Hamilton. ‘I daresay he stays there while Parliament is sitting.’

  ‘If he’ll receive me, I shall call on him tomorrow.’ I sighed. ‘All I want is to meet him but I expect, like you, he’ll think I’m a fortune hunter.’ Suddenly I was so tired I could cry.

  Surprisingly, Lady Hamilton’s expression softened. ‘We shall see what tomorrow brings.’ Sh
e rang the bell on the side table and a moment later the maid arrived.

  ‘Take Miss Barton to her room and send up some supper on a tray,’ said Lady Hamilton.

  Relieved that I was to avoid a formal dinner, I dropped a curtsey and followed the maid upstairs.

  The guest room was comfortably furnished but chilly, even though a meagre fire burned in the grate. I kicked off my wet shoes and sat by the fire to warm my toes. I must have dozed because the next thing I heard was the maid placing a supper tray on the table beside me.