The Isle of Jersey
April 1875
If we are caught, we’ll be in beastly trouble for this,” Nellie said, tugging at her sister’s sleeve as they opened the door to the ladies’ cloakroom of Government House and darted inside.
“Not if we don’t get caught. Don’t be in such a fret,” Lucy scolded in a whisper. “She will surely come in here before the reception, and we’ll catch a glimpse of her.”
“Mother will be furious, and since the lieutenant governor and Mrs. Norcott are hosts for this party, then—”
“They won’t even know. Oh look! Ada was right. We can crawl under the skirt of that ruffled dressing table and cut little peekholes in it to see out.”
“Peepholes,” Nellie corrected.
“Never you mind. I brought my best sewing scissors,” Lucy declared, brandishing them like a sword.
At age ten, Nellie was hardly as bold as her sister, who was sixteen months older and the family tomboy to Nellie’s wallflower. But they’d agreed it was worth a risk to catch a glimpse of Lillie Langtry, the toast of London and a native of this small island snagged between France and England. Nellie had been writing reams about Lillie in her own Complete and True Diary of Miss Elinor Sutherland. Snagged, a lovely word, she reminded herself again. Indeed, they were snagged here with a terrible stepfather who was so mean to their lovely mother. Why, it was like some fairy tale with an ogre after their father—the true prince—had died.
“All right,” Nellie agreed. “I’ll crawl under, though you know I abhor closed places. At least it won’t be pitch-dark under there.” Four years ago, the sisters and their mother had sailed from Canada, on a trip so harrowing Nellie had never gotten over it.
After all, Nellie thought, trying to buck herself up, anything to see the so-called Jersey Lily who was so beautiful that she’d been painted by artists and invited to dinners by important people in London. Simply everyone in little Jersey had crowded the streets the day Lillie wed the widower Mr. Langtry last year. The streets had been awash with flowers and crowds. But they had heard she’d wed him just to escape on his yacht. Lucy had repeated ad nauseam that she’d heard Lillie was so clever that even at London events she wore simple black gowns with no jewelry to accent her stunning face and form.
Nellie sighed and watched as Lucy cut two peepholes in the white muslin and pink glazed calico folds of the dressing table skirt. The top of the table boasted little cut-glass bottles, combs, brushes, and a silver-backed hand mirror.
“I can’t wait to see what she wears,” Lucy was saying. “I’ll sketch every stitch of her gown.”
“And I’ll record everything about it, everything. I just hope Ada doesn’t catch it for tipping us off when she arrives.”
Ada Norcott was the daughter of the channel island’s lieutenant governor, a representative of Queen Victoria, no less. Ada was often allowed to play with the Sutherland sisters. They lived in a rented, furnished house just outside the capital, St. Helier, so Ada often invited them to stay with her in town. That had been the case today, though the girls were not to attend the reception and dinner, only gaze out windows at arriving carriages, and that wasn’t good enough.
“All right, get under straightaway,” Lucy ordered.
“But Ada hasn’t given us the high sign yet.”
“Good gracious, do you want to be in a scramble when she does? This isn’t a story in one of those books you bury yourself in where people escape through magic doors and such nonsense. If we are scolded for this, Mother will have the vapors, and our I-am-ill-help-me-right-now Mr. Kennedy will be meaner than ever.”
Nellie gathered her skirts and crawled in the small space, followed by Lucy. They hunched together, straining to listen for Ada’s telltale knock on the door that would mean Mrs. Lillie Le Breton Langtry had arrived and was coming upstairs to leave her wrap.
Not only had their idol Lillie escaped the little English Channel island of Jersey but she’d escaped a father who, despite his religious position as dean of Jersey, had a racy reputation. Gossip said that the senior clergyman of the island diocese had taken numerous paramours. Why, ’twas said poor Lillie had at first fallen for a handsome young man she did not know was her half brother, and the dean had been forced to tell her to keep her from incest. Oh my, sin and scandal here on “just” Jersey, supposedly only the haunt of rural folk, day-trippers, and cows!
Both girls jolted when Ada’s triple knock resounded on the door. Lucy pulled the dressing table skirt tighter and peered out the larger slit she’d made for herself. Nellie looked out too, holding her breath in their dusty little tent.
And in swept Lillie Langtry. Oh crumbs, Lucy thought. Ada’s mother was with her, when they’d hoped she’d come in alone. Even inside here, Lucy inhaled in a sniff of powder and perfume as she gaped at Lillie’s white satin corded gown with a tight bodice and puffed bustle and the flaming scarlet flowers that perched behind each ear.
Nellie noted with a sigh Lillie’s upswept, golden-brown hair so fashionably curled and fringed. She rued her own red hair, which was considered too loud and too Mediterranean, whereas Lucy’s was light brown and Ada’s was absolutely flaxen. And, oh, Lillie Langtry already had a glass of what looked to be champagne in her hand, but it might as well have been ambrosia of the Greek gods.
The sisters stared as Lillie put her glass on the table above their heads and proceeded to primp, though they couldn’t see the top half of her now. Her petticoats pushed toward them, and they both leaned back, losing their peepholes. Then Nellie sneezed.
“Oh!” Lillie cried and stepped away from the dressing table.
“Whoever was that?” Ada’s mother demanded.
Lillie lifted the muslin skirt that hid them and peered closer. “Dear me, whatever are you two doing here?”
Feeling ever so childish when she considered herself, at twelve nearly of age, nearly a young lady, Lucy crawled out and stood. Nellie, though she admitted she was scared of horses and the dark and a few other things, followed her older sister’s move.
“Why, it’s the Sutherland girls!” Mrs. Norcott cried. “What pluck! Mrs. Langtry, these are friends of my daughter Ada’s, but there is surely no excuse for such improper, cheeky behavior.”
“Well,” Lillie said in her melodious voice Lucy vowed right then to imitate forever, “their excuse is they wanted to say hello and knew they wouldn’t have an opportunity later, yes?”
“Yes, that’s it,” Lucy declared, grateful for the assistance.
Nellie felt tongue-tied but bobbed a slight curtsy. After all, the islanders were treating this woman as if she were a princess, and such romantic stories were the solid stuff of Nellie’s fanciful and far-flung imaginings.
“Indeed, I am delighted to make the acquaintance of such enterprising and bold young ladies,” Lillie said, extending a gloved hand to each of them. “And I know Mrs. Norcott will be certain you do not get a telling off.”
Ignoring the older woman’s continued sputtering—about Ada being something called complicit—Lillie squeezed their hands and then released them. She leaned closer to lift her crystal champagne glass and raised it toward her Cupid-bow lips in a graceful motion.
“I salute the Sutherland sisters,” she said, as if she were leading the grandest toast at a castle instead of old Government House in just Jersey. “Success to you both, which I have no doubt will come to you for your aplomb and determination. It is as important as a woman’s wiles and smiles.”
Lucy didn’t know what aplomb or wiles meant, but Nellie no doubt did. Lucy broke into a smile, and Nellie blinked back tears of gratitude and adoration.
Lucy dared to put in, “Our real names are Lucile and Elinor.”
“Ah, far grander. Dare I hope you two will fly away from quiet, old Jersey someday too? Here’s to wonderful people and their endeavors.”
She drained her drink. “I vow you are girls after my own heart—and remember to guard your hearts, Lucile and Elinor Sutherland. Ta, ta, then,” she said and, with a wave and a swish of skirts, headed for the door.
Mrs. Norcott hastened to hold it open and out sailed Lillie into the hall, followed by the older woman and a brisk slam of the door.
“Oh my, what a gown and what an exit,” Lucy said with a sigh.
“An exit for her, but a new beginning for me,” Nellie declared. “I shall write about her and be just like her.”
“Nonsense. We will be just like Lucile and Elinor Sutherland and make our own way in the world.”
“Only not marry for a yacht and an escape, like she did. I intend to find romance.”
“I don’t give a straw for that, just that I get on famously, and not on Jersey. Onward and upward as Grandmama used to say. Now let’s get going.”