The Dressmaker’s Secret

by Charlotte Betts

  ‘Why did you tell Alessandro I was engaged to Dolly?’ I blurted out the question before I’d had a chance to take a calming breath. ‘You know it was a lie. And what did you do with the letters and notes he sent to me? I never received any of them.’

  The expression in his steel-grey eyes was cold and unflinching. ‘I don’t care for your tone, Emilia. Do I take it that you have been in contact with that unsuitable foreigner… an illicit meeting, in fact?’

  ‘You lied to him!’

  ‘Answer my question, Emilia. At once!’ thundered Father. ‘Have you been meeting him in secret?’

  ‘Only this morning and I wouldn’t have resorted to subterfuge if you’d allowed him to speak to me when he called here.’ I was shaking with anger.

  ‘How dare you question my judgement!’ Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth. ‘Did you think I was going to allow my daughter to throw herself away on a low-born foreigner?’

  ‘You’ve always known I intended to return to Italy and marry Alessandro.’

  ‘And yet you were happy enough to stay here for a year enjoying the benefits I could give you.’ His voice was cold. ‘What more could I have done for you, Emilia? Have you not been pleased with the ball I gave for you, the new clothes and jewellery and the opportunity to move in the most exalted circles? Why, the King himself came to your ball…’

  Heat flooded my face. ‘You know I’m grateful to you, but my real reason for staying here was in order to get to know you and Aunt Maude.’

  Father slumped down at his desk and buried his face in his hands. ‘Can’t you see, Emilia, I want only the best for you?’

  ‘Alessandro is the best for me.’ I tried to stop my voice from wavering. ‘And you lied to him and now he doesn’t trust me.’

  My father sighed deeply. ‘One day, when you have children of your own, you’ll understand how much they can hurt you. You’re still young, Emilia, but you will come to learn there is more to happiness than stolen kisses. You must have security.’

  ‘With Dolly, you mean?’

  ‘Be reasonable, Emilia!’ He rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Open your eyes to the advantages of being his wife. You’re a beautiful girl and have had every opportunity of meeting a suitable husband during the past year. Many were titled, most were young and several had fortunes, but you gave no encouragement to any of them. It’s unlikely you’ll meet any suitable men more to your liking in a second season and by then there will be a plethora of younger girls seeking a husband. You may have missed your chance already.’

  I shuddered. ‘I don’t want a second season.’

  ‘A year is a long time to a young man,’ said Father. ‘Alessandro has probably found another girl by now.’

  ‘He wouldn’t!’

  ‘And what then, Emilia,’ said Father, ‘if you return to Italy and this Alessandro doesn’t want you? You could continue to scratch a living as a dressmaker to the bourgeoisie, of course. Dolly, meanwhile, will marry and you’ll lose that opportunity. Eventually you’ll find life alone in Italy too difficult and come creeping back to me. I’d give you a home, of course, just as I have to Aunt Maude, but she’ll be the first to tell you how difficult it is for a spinster living on charity.’

  I shivered at the disdain in his voice.

  ‘If you’ve had a disagreement with Alessandro,’ said Father, ‘I can only say, however upset you are at present, that you’ve had a lucky escape. You’ve returned to the life you were born into and I suggest you reflect on your very good fortune. And remember, Dolly won’t wait for you forever.’

  Unable to listen to any more of this, I fled.

  Chapter 25

  December 1820

  Langdon Hall

  We arrived at Langdon Hall a week before Christmas. Father had planned a variety of diversions to entertain his house guests over the festive season and, to my dismay, I was expected to act as his hostess.

  ‘I fear I shall say or do something wrong,’ I confided to Aunt Maude. I sat listlessly by the fire in the small parlour, planning the guests’ table placements for the various dinners.

  ‘I remember your dear mother saying the same thing to me many years ago,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘She was afraid she’d forget to order the musicians or the flowers and worried about inviting guests who wouldn’t find each other congenial.’

  ‘Did she?’ I didn’t want to think about my traitorous mother, however high she stood in Aunt Maude’s esteem. That only proved how double-faced she’d been.

  Aunt Maude smiled. ‘Dear me, yes! Rose was an anxious hostess as a new bride but soon she forgot her worries and if there was a difficulty she managed to laugh about it.’

  I turned back to the scraps of paper, each inscribed with a guest’s name, that I was arranging around the perimeter of a larger sheet representing the table. As host, Father had to sit at one end but what was the correct order of placement for the rest of us? There were so many traps for the unwary that could cause offence.

  ‘Rose kept a notebook for entertaining,’ said Aunt Maude. ‘She included names of the guests, the food and wine served to them, on which date, and other useful information. I wonder if we still have it?’

  ‘It would be terribly old-fashioned now,’ I said, distracted by the difficulty of deciding which of two local landowners’ wives was the most important.

  ‘Good manners never go out of fashion, dear,’ said Aunt Maude with a reproving smile. ‘I’ll see if I can find it.’

  Five minutes later I pushed the placements aside with an expression of disgust and went to look out of the window. There was an area of muddy grass and shrubs below and then the moat. The water was deathly still and very dark today, almost black, reflecting the sullen sky above. A few leaves floated on the surface.

  I wondered what my mother had thought about when she drowned herself and if she’d considered at all the needs of the little daughter she was leaving behind. I imagined her being swept along by the current and battered against the banks and bridges. Or perhaps she’d sunk straight down to the river bed and felt the mud squeezing between her toes as she watched the silvery bubbles of her last breath floating to the surface. I closed my eyes, picturing her struggling against the weight of her sodden clothing while her red hair floated around her face like waterweed.

  Shivering, I returned to my chair by the morning-room fire. I’d been prone to black moods lately, made worse by succumbing to a feverish chill the previous month after waiting in the cold to meet Alessandro. I couldn’t shake off the malaise that ailed me and had given up any hope of receiving an apologetic message from him. It hurt me deeply that he hadn’t believed me when I told him I wasn’t engaged to Dolly. But Father could be extremely persuasive when it suited his own ends. When I remonstrated with him I’d glimpsed an entirely different side to his character from that of the affectionate parent that he usually presented to me.

  The door opened and Aunt Maude returned. ‘Dolly has arrived,’ she said. ‘He’s talking to your father but says he’ll join us in a while.’ Triumphantly, she waved a red morocco-bound notebook at me. ‘It was in the library,’ she said, ‘still on the shelf where Rose kept it.’

  I made an attempt to rouse myself from the apathy that gripped me and reached for the notebook with a forced smile. ‘How interesting!’

  In fact, it was interesting, filled as it was with my mother’s bold writing covering all aspects of her life as hostess at both Grosvenor Street and Langdon Hall. There were sketches of flower arrangements, menus, notes on which guests felt an antipathy for each other and mustn’t be invited at the same time, addresses of recommended purveyors of hams and cheeses, small orchestras available for hire…

  I put the notebook down as Dolly opened the door. Since I’d been unwell, I hadn’t seen him for more than a few minutes at a time over the past month. ‘Dolly, how nice to see you!’ I said, noticing his face was even paler than usual and there were deep shadows under his eyes. ‘You’re a most welcome relief from arranging
table placements.’

  ‘I should think so, too,’ he said, bowing to Aunt Maude before sitting down beside me. ‘Would you care for me to advise you?’

  ‘The very thing! I’m tired of it all.’

  The next hour passed pleasantly enough and I even found the energy to laugh at some of Dolly’s more acerbic comments about the intended guests. I glanced up at him once or twice to see that he was staring at me with an oddly watchful expression.

  Finally, I slipped my lists into the red notebook and closed it. ‘Aunt Maude and I shall speak to Cook in the morning about the menus.’

  Aunt Maude stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to rest before dinner.’

  After she’d gone Dolly rubbed his eyes and yawned.

  ‘Tired?’ I asked.

  He smiled ruefully. ‘I’ve had rather too many late nights recently. And perhaps a little too much wine.’

  ‘You can go to bed early tonight,’ I said. ‘Straight after supper, if you wish, since there aren’t any guests but you. I hope you won’t find it too tedious.’

  ‘Indeed not,’ he said, ‘since you’re here to keep me amused.’

  ‘I don’t feel very amusing at present.’

  He regarded me closely. ‘Stand up!’ he commanded.

  I obliged and he looked me up and down.

  ‘You’ve lost all your womanly curves.’

  ‘That’s not kind!’ I sat down again.

  ‘It suits you to be so slender,’ he said. ‘If I put a laurel wreath on your head and handed you a lyre, I could be looking at a young Apollo.’

  I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘While you look dissipated enough today to be Dionysus.’

  ‘You surprise me, Emilia, by your knowledge of Greek mythology.’

  ‘I’m not just a pretty face,’ I said. ‘I’ve enjoyed the educational benefits of travel. Now, stop appraising me as if I were a piece of horseflesh you were considering at Tattersalls! I’ve barely shaken off that chill I caught last month.’

  ‘Since neither of us is on top form we shall have to remain cosy by the fireside together, playing cards like an old married couple, shan’t we?’

  ‘Which is exactly what Father wants.’

  Dolly kept his gaze on his highly polished boots for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and looked at me. ‘Perhaps it is time to make both your father and me the happiest of men, Emilia?’

  I froze, the light-hearted moment between us gone in an instant.

  He placed his long white fingers over mine. ‘Neither of us were ready for marriage before. And now your father tells me your Italian lover hasn’t come up to expectations.’

  I flinched, pulling my hand away, and it was all I could do not to cry out at the memory of my last painful meeting with Alessandro.

  ‘Am I so loathsome to you?’ asked Dolly. The expression on his face was hurt.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said, my voice high and tight. ‘Of course you’re not loathsome! You’re one of the handsomest men in London. All the girls’ mothers are hoping to catch you for their daughters.’

  He cleared his throat again. ‘It’s taken me time to be sure I’m ready to settle down,’ he said, ‘but now I wish, most wholeheartedly and ardently, to make you my wife, Emilia. I’ve grown exceedingly fond of you. More than fond. In fact, you fill my thoughts so entirely I cannot eat or sleep.’

  Struck dumb, I could only stare at him. Was this a declaration of love? I noticed once more that tiny tic at the corner of his eye.

  ‘Emilia, say something!’ He lifted my hand and pressed it fervently to his mouth. ‘Can you not see that I’m desperate for you?’ There was a sheen of perspiration on his top lip.

  I swallowed. ‘I’d no idea you had feelings of that sort for me,’ I said, at last.

  ‘I didn’t, at the beginning. And when I began to admit to myself that I’d fallen in love with you, I was concerned I’d frighten you away if I began to court you,’ said Dolly. ‘But now, I can conceal my passion no longer.’ He slid off the sofa and onto his knees at my feet. ‘Emilia, please will you be my wife?’

  I wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. I’d become used to considering Dolly as an ally against my father’s domineering plans for me. Discovering now that Dolly actually loved me caused such turbulent feelings within me I could not fathom them.

  ‘Emilia?’

  ‘Dolly…’ My mouth was dry. ‘You’ve taken me by surprise.’ I forced a smile. ‘You gave me no inkling of your feelings.’ I closed my eyes briefly, recalling how I’d slipped on the steps and he’d clasped me against him while Alessandro watched us from the other side of the street.

  ‘I know we could make a success of our marriage,’ said Dolly, his voice urgent. ‘Please, please, say yes.’

  ‘Give me a little time.’

  ‘Time!’

  My eyes widened as he raised his voice.

  ‘I apologise,’ he said hastily, ‘but you’ve had nearly a year to think about it.’

  ‘Of course I haven’t!’ I looked down at my hands, twisted together in my lap. Dolly loved me and Alessandro never wanted to see me again. ‘The situation is entirely different now.’

  ‘Tomorrow then?’

  I looked away from the intensity of his gaze while my heart fluttered against my ribs. ‘Give me until Christmas Day, Dolly. There’s so much for me to organise here and if you press me too hard, I shall simply say no.’

  He let out his breath in a ragged sigh. ‘Then I must be patient.’

  It was awkward and uncomfortable to look at him and I felt I no longer knew how to speak to him lightly. ‘I shall retire to my room for a while,’ I said.

  Dolly nodded. ‘You need time to think. Perhaps I’ll rest too.’

  We went upstairs together in silence, stopping in the Long Gallery outside the guest room where he was to stay.

  ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable,’ I said, in formal tones as befitted his hostess. ‘Please ring should you require anything.’

  ‘Only you, Emilia,’ he murmured, before closing the door behind him.

  I avoided being alone with Dolly over the next few days, staying firmly by Aunt Maude’s side and busying myself with the forthcoming festivities. At night I lay awake, struggling to decide which course of action to take. The truth was, I didn’t know what to do.

  It had always been my intention to return to my beloved Italy. Used to a quiet life with Sarah, I’d been overwhelmed sometimes by Alessandro’s family, but I knew now that I wanted nothing more than to be a part of it. The cool, polite manners of English society held little charm for me.

  Now that Alessandro had cast me aside, there was little point in my returning to Pesaro and my life as an itinerant dressmaker. The time had come for me to decide if I’d be better off staying with my newfound family. Except, of course, that I’d be married to a man I didn’t love. The surprising change in our situation was Dolly’s unexpected declaration. There were practical advantages in marrying him but could I ever learn to love him?

  On the morning of Christmas Eve, I went to supervise the servants while they brought in the Yule log and the festive greenery. The log had stopped smoking and was beginning to spit and crackle in the stone hearth of the Great Hall when Dolly came to find me.

  ‘Shall I help with the decorating?’ he offered.

  A number of servants were bustling about nearby, bringing me scissors and twine and sweeping up clumps of mud and moss that had fallen off the Yule log so I didn’t fear any awkward conversations. I eyed his exquisite coat with its shiny brass buttons. ‘It would be a shame,’ I said, ‘to snag such fine wool with a sprig of holly.’

  Five minutes later, Dolly sported one of the linen aprons the footmen usually wore while polishing the silver. ‘Thankfully none of my fashionable London friends will see me dressed like this,’ he said.

  ‘And you won’t upset your tailor by ruining your coat, either.’

  He smiled at me. ‘What a very understanding girl you are!’
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  He surprised me by climbing nimbly up a ladder to drape an ivy wreath along the minstrels’ gallery and helped me make a kissing ball with the sprigs of mistletoe. We wound ivy and sprigs of holly around the candles on the vast iron light fittings and he stood beside me, watching as the footman hauled the swaying cartwheels of candles up towards the star-painted ceiling again.

  ‘The decorations look splendid,’ said Dolly. ‘We’re a good team, don’t you think?’ He smiled tentatively.

  ‘Better than I might have imagined,’ I said. He had a smudge of dust on his cheek and his cravat was crumpled. I liked him the better for it. To avoid his gaze, I gathered up a holly wreath, climbed onto a chair and placed it on one of the stags’ heads. ‘How does that look?’ I asked.