connections to match her well themselves. Lady Ruth Fitchett had been happy to take Emmie’s money. Lady Ruth liked money and found ingenious ways of getting it and holding on to it.
The lady’s maid was more difficult. An upper servant such as a lady’s maid had to be presentable and somewhat educated. She attended to her mistress’s intricate wardrobe, including its many layers and frills and, in the case of evening gowns, thousands of beads sewn onto fabric. She also arranged hair, accompanied her mistress on calls, when she shopped, and on country house visits, as well as attending to a thousand other personal details.
No lady of quality did without a personal maid. Emmie had counted on Dolly to play the part, but Dolly was involved in schemes of her own. Just in time Emmie remembered another friend, Betsy Nipper, who could do the job. Betsy was Turnip’s niece, and her mother had been a lady’s maid before she had been brought low by drink.
Meanwhile Emmie scrounged around herrooms and found her old French and Latin dictionaries. She translated the foreign phrases in the packet of clues and struggled to divine their meaning. So far she’d been unsuccessful. Perhaps they would make sense once she got to Agincourt Hall.
Between the night of the North ball and the day she left for the country, Emmie saw the marquess several times at Society functions. Before an art exhibition, a musical evening given by Adelaide’s mother, or a concert or opera, she would convince herself that she’d vanquished the fluttery confusion that threatened whenever she looked at Valin North. But although he sought her out and she never allowed him to see her alone, she fluttered anyway. Even more humiliating was the knowledge that she didn’t trust
herself
when alone with the marquess, much less him. These skirmishes with herself made time pass tortuously.
Finally, on the appointed day, Emmie and Betsy Nipper drove through the grounds of the North family seat with Turnip on the coach box. Also with her was the street urchin, one of her gang, who would play her page. Emmie was proud of herself for thinking of the page. Having such an extra servant would proclaim her wealth to everyone and assure Valin North that she had no need of marrying for money. Thus he wouldn’t have cause to suspect her of angling for his hand. Pilfer Oxleek was enterprising and bright enough to dothe job, and he wouldn’t cause comment among the other servants, since his position was as lowly as his station in life.
Pilfer sat beside Betsy, opposite Emmie, and craned his neck out the window as they drove down the avenue toward Agincourt Hall. “Coo! Look at all them trees, missus.”
“Pilfer, I told you to say miss.”
The boy nodded. “Yes, miss.”
Emmie tried not to smile. Pilfer was small for his seven years and spoke in an oddly deep voice with a lisp and an air of gravity that startled most people. He would stand as tall as he could, look up at an adult with a frown, and say disconcerting things in a bass voice, such as, “What’s the matter? Don’t yer like children?”
“Ooo!” cried Betsy. “Emmie, I mean miss, look at that gatehouse. That there is a fortress, is that.”
“Betsy, sit down. Lady’s maids don’t hang out the window and gawp at things.”
“Sorry. I forgot. How old d’you think this place is?”
Emmie gazed at the high stone walls of the fortified manor. “The oldest parts are medieval, but most of it was built under the Tudors over three hundred years ago. I suppose it’s been modified again and again.”
“Cor,” Betsy said in tones of wonder.
The carriage passed under the gatehouse and into a court that would have held half a dozen St. Giles boardinghouses. Turnip slowed the vehicle to a stately walk as they passed between two identical reflection pools.
“I read about this,” Emmie said in hushed awe. “It’s the Fountain Court.”
As she spoke water shot into the air from dozens of spouts along
The lady’s maid was more difficult. An upper servant such as a lady’s maid had to be presentable and somewhat educated. She attended to her mistress’s intricate wardrobe, including its many layers and frills and, in the case of evening gowns, thousands of beads sewn onto fabric. She also arranged hair, accompanied her mistress on calls, when she shopped, and on country house visits, as well as attending to a thousand other personal details.
No lady of quality did without a personal maid. Emmie had counted on Dolly to play the part, but Dolly was involved in schemes of her own. Just in time Emmie remembered another friend, Betsy Nipper, who could do the job. Betsy was Turnip’s niece, and her mother had been a lady’s maid before she had been brought low by drink.
Meanwhile Emmie scrounged around herrooms and found her old French and Latin dictionaries. She translated the foreign phrases in the packet of clues and struggled to divine their meaning. So far she’d been unsuccessful. Perhaps they would make sense once she got to Agincourt Hall.
Between the night of the North ball and the day she left for the country, Emmie saw the marquess several times at Society functions. Before an art exhibition, a musical evening given by Adelaide’s mother, or a concert or opera, she would convince herself that she’d vanquished the fluttery confusion that threatened whenever she looked at Valin North. But although he sought her out and she never allowed him to see her alone, she fluttered anyway. Even more humiliating was the knowledge that she didn’t trust
herself
when alone with the marquess, much less him. These skirmishes with herself made time pass tortuously.
Finally, on the appointed day, Emmie and Betsy Nipper drove through the grounds of the North family seat with Turnip on the coach box. Also with her was the street urchin, one of her gang, who would play her page. Emmie was proud of herself for thinking of the page. Having such an extra servant would proclaim her wealth to everyone and assure Valin North that she had no need of marrying for money. Thus he wouldn’t have cause to suspect her of angling for his hand. Pilfer Oxleek was enterprising and bright enough to dothe job, and he wouldn’t cause comment among the other servants, since his position was as lowly as his station in life.
Pilfer sat beside Betsy, opposite Emmie, and craned his neck out the window as they drove down the avenue toward Agincourt Hall. “Coo! Look at all them trees, missus.”
“Pilfer, I told you to say miss.”
The boy nodded. “Yes, miss.”
Emmie tried not to smile. Pilfer was small for his seven years and spoke in an oddly deep voice with a lisp and an air of gravity that startled most people. He would stand as tall as he could, look up at an adult with a frown, and say disconcerting things in a bass voice, such as, “What’s the matter? Don’t yer like children?”
“Ooo!” cried Betsy. “Emmie, I mean miss, look at that gatehouse. That there is a fortress, is that.”
“Betsy, sit down. Lady’s maids don’t hang out the window and gawp at things.”
“Sorry. I forgot. How old d’you think this place is?”
Emmie gazed at the high stone walls of the fortified manor. “The oldest parts are medieval, but most of it was built under the Tudors over three hundred years ago. I suppose it’s been modified again and again.”
“Cor,” Betsy said in tones of wonder.
The carriage passed under the gatehouse and into a court that would have held half a dozen St. Giles boardinghouses. Turnip slowed the vehicle to a stately walk as they passed between two identical reflection pools.
“I read about this,” Emmie said in hushed awe. “It’s the Fountain Court.”
As she spoke water shot into the air from dozens of spouts along
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