AFTER A VERY PLEASANT TEA with Mr. Chalmers, St. John, and Niall, Valeria reluctantly returned to the house. Her conscience hurt her a bit for not being with her mother in the drawing room to entertain their guests; but she thought she had a good excuse for it, after the scene in the kitchen garden. It had taken her the last three hours to gain full control of her simmering anger with her stepfather and Lady Jex-Blake. Only now did she think she could face them with a semblance of equanimity.
As it happened, it wasn’t necessary for her to face them just yet. Only Mrs. Purefoy and Miss Shadwell were in the drawing room with her mother. Valeria joined them, and she didn’t ask where the others were. She didn’t really care. Her mother was doing her needlework, and Valeria attempted to read, but the twitterings of Mrs. Purefoy and Miss Shadwell distracted her. They were busily writing letters. The earl had his stationery specially printed on the highest-quality parchment, with the heading “Bellegarde Hall” in gold block lettering, and the Maledon coat of arms as a watermark. The sealing wax was the signature slate blue of the Maledon livery, and the seal, which was also the coat of arms, was large and ostentatious.
“Such fine parchment, I declare I have never seen such quality,” Miss Shadwell gushed. “I’m writing to my dear friend Miss Whicker, and you simply must allow me to read it to you, Lady Maledon, as I wish to convey my appreciation of your ladyship’s exquisite hospitality.” Then she proceeded to read: “‘Bellegarde Hall is quite grand, and the gardens are quite the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. Lady Maledon is a quite wonderful hostess, so affable and welcoming…’”
Valeria tried to keep her expression neutral, but something of her weariness of the ladies’ fawning must have shown, because by the very slightest sidelong glance Regina signaled a warning to her. Quickly Valeria assumed a look of polite interest.
The men came in at six thirty, talking loudly and smelling of horses and spirits. After greeting the ladies, they settled down to drinking Madeira—and Lord Maledon his port wine—and talking politics. As ladies were considered too delicate to interest themselves in the rough-and-tumble world of governance, the women took no part in the conversation.
Valeria did now wonder where Lady Jex-Blake was. It wasn’t really unusual for guests to keep their own schedules, for Regina Maledon was a most obliging hostess. She took great pains to make all her guests feel comfortable, and made it clear that they were perfectly free to pass the time as they wished. The ultimate betrayal, Valeria thought bitterly. My mother is so careful to make our guests feel at home…how does a woman like that dare hold her head up and look my mother in the eye? How can my stepfather?
It was a vast relief to Valeria when the gong rang at seven o’clock, signaling them it was time to dress for dinner. They all went upstairs to their bedchambers.
Valeria’s beautiful bedroom was another gift from her stepfather. All the other bedrooms at Bellegarde Hall had dark walnut wainscoting, dreary wallpaper, and old oak full tester beds with heavy velvet hangings. Lord Maledon had allowed Valeria and Regina to redecorate Valeria’s bedroom in the French style. Regina had bought a full-size bed with headboard and footboard painted a cream color, with ornate carvings and a half tester canopy. The armoire, the dressing table, the chairs, and the side tables were all painted to match. For her linens and draperies Valeria chose a light green with pink trim. Regina had found a beautiful cream-colored damask wallpaper with a small green fleur-de-lis design. The carpet was the same soft ecru as the furnishings, with a green ivy design. The final touch, which delighted Valeria, was a recamier upholstered with the same green-and-pink damask as her bed hangings and comforter. Imported from France, it was almost as big as a bed, and luxuriously soft. As soon as she entered her bedroom, she threw herself onto it, laid her head back, and closed her eyes. She must, she must compose herself for the ordeal of dinner.
In just a few minutes Joan, the first housemaid, came to dress Valeria. She was the same age as Valeria, an attractive young woman, tall and strongly built, with handsome features and bright brown eyes. She was now wearing the evening livery of the maidservants, a dark-blue dress with a white lace-trimmed bib apron and cap. She was quite burdened down, for she carried a kettle of hot water, Valeria’s freshly ironed clothes, and Valeria’s watercolor box.
“My watercolors!” Valeria said, bounding up from the recamier to take it from Joan. “How wonderful, I thought my cakes must be leaching out completely in the…” Her voice trailed off and she said in a low voice, “Thank you, Joan. Did you retrieve it for me?”
“No, miss,” she answered. “Miss Platt went to the kitchen garden herself to get it for you.”
Valeria had to make a mental shift, as she always did, when she heard the servants refer to Craigie as “Miss Platt.” The servants had rules for titles that were quite as rigid as the nobility’s. Any lady’s maid was referred to by her last name by the family, while the servants always called her “Miss,” regardless of her marital status. The housekeeper and cook were always called “Mrs.” by both the family and the other servants, whether they were married or not. The family called the butler by his surname, while the servants called him “Mr. Trueman,” and the same rule applied to the valet. All the lower servants were called by their first names only.
Joan laid out Valeria’s clothes on the bed, then poured out her hot water. It steamed gently, and she added some lavender to the bowl, stirred it with a silver spoon she had placed in the washstand for the purpose, then added some tepid water from the pitcher to make it lukewarm, which was how Valeria liked it in summertime.
Valeria turned her back to Joan so Joan could undo her buttons. “Did Mary Louise get into trouble?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, miss,” Joan answered, her tone light and amused. “But then someone’s always in trouble with Mrs. Banyard, she couldn’t be happy unless she was grumbling.”
“It wasn’t over the basket, was it? Craigie returned the basket too, didn’t she?”
“Yes, miss. Mrs. Banyard did go on about that basket until Miss Platt came in with it. Then Mrs. Banyard started telling Mary Louise that she was getting above herself, telling you she had two names.” Joan imitated Mrs. Banyard’s cross voice: “‘And why would you be a-telling Miss that your name was Mary Louise?’ And poor little Mary Louise said, ‘’Cause of t’other girl, Mary Jane, Mrs. Banyard, so Miss Segrave wouldn’t confuse us.’” Again in Mrs. Banyard’s growl, “‘And why do you think Miss would care if we was all named Mary? Next time one of Them asks your name, you don’t be a-tellin’ what every servant on the place is called!’”
Both Joan and Valeria giggled. Now Valeria was undressed, and she went to wash with the refreshing spice-scented lavender water. “Poor Mary Louise,” she said. “She is not having a very good day.” Under her breath she said, “And she isn’t the only one.”
Joan gave her a compassionate look but said nothing. She went to Valeria’s dressing table and began to dry and cut the stems of the flowers in the bouquet that would go in Valeria’s hair.
When Valeria turned seventeen, she had officially “come out”; that is, she was no longer considered “in the schoolroom” and was able to join adult society. Now when there were guests at Bellegarde, she was able to have dinner with them. She also accompanied her mother when she made calls. But the most important sign was that she now wore her hair up, instead of down with the big girlish bows in the back. Her mother had also bought her a new wardrobe, of more mature styles. This meant that now Valeria needed more assistance to dress, and also to do her hair. Up until she came out, Craigie had helped her and had done her simple hairstyles. But a year ago Regina had directed that Joan attend Valeria.
At first Joan had been so proper and correct in her manner with Valeria that she said nothing except to answer questions. But slowly, over the past year, she and Valeria had begun to form a relationship that was closer to friendship than that of mistress and servant. Valeria was glad; she found Joan intelligent and amusing.
She finished washing, toweled dry, and began the ordeal of dressing for a formal dinner. Joan held up her chemise, a plain white knee-length shift. Valeria stopped to look more closely at it. On the neckline and the hem was a very small border of eyelet-embroidered lace. “Joan, what lovely white work! You added this to my chemise? Did you work it?”
“Yes, miss. Miss Platt is teaching me white work and tambour. That’s my first attempt, I know it’s not fine enough to trim a dress, but I thought it would do nicely for a chemise, them being so plain and all.”
“I think it’s perfectly wonderful,” Valeria declared as she slipped the chemise over her head. “It looks quite as expert as does Craigie’s. The next time you must trim one of my petticoats. Or really, you should trim your own petticoat!”
“Thank you, miss,” Joan said with pleasure.
The fabric felt good against her skin. Commonly chemises were made of cotton, but Regina always ordered the finest of undergarments, so Valeria’s chemises were made of the softest linen. To her gratification, Joan always ironed her chemises, which was rather superfluous since they were never seen, of course. But Valeria had found that it gave her an extra degree of comfort.
Next came Valeria’s short stays, which were actually a very short corset that only came a couple of inches below her breasts. Valeria was grateful the style was for the high-waisted Empire dress, and women no longer had to wear long corsets that pinched in their waists. It took some shifting and pushing and pulling to get the tight stays right, but finally Joan laced them up firmly.
Over this went Valeria’s petticoat. Some petticoats were made of two pieces, a bodice and a skirt, but Valeria had one-piece shifts that were tied tight just under her breasts, following the line of her dresses. For evening dress her petticoats were not embellished at the hem, as they were for afternoon dresses, promenade dresses, and carriage dresses. When one was engaged in the activities for which such dresses were worn, it might be necessary to lift the skirt so as not to get it dirty or muddy, and it was considered acceptable to lift the outer dress only, exposing the hem of the petticoat. But for evening dress this wouldn’t be necessary, so her petticoat was plain linen.
Valeria sat at her dressing table, a fine long table with two drawers on each side and a triple mirror mounted on the top. Joan asked, “Now would you be wanting any jewelry or ribbons in your hair tonight, Miss Segrave?”
Valeria considered the dress laid out on her bed. Made of the finest cambric, so closely woven that it had a slightly glossy finish, it was high-waisted with a low-cut square neck and short puff sleeves. It was white, with a sky-blue stripe and a blue satin ribbon tied at the high waist. White Valenciennes lace trimmed the neckline, the sleeves, and the three flounces at the hem. It was a very pretty dress, but Valeria was always dissatisfied because young ladies were confined to pale pastels, and now, as it happened, white was the most popular color. Valeria’s only resort was to add some color in her accessories, and sometimes she was very daring in her choices, her own small rebellion. “I think, instead of the blue forget-me-nots, I’ll have some of those small orange rosebuds, and my coral jewelry,” she decided.
Joan retrieved Valeria’s jewelry chest from the armoire. She had a sizable collection of jewelry with which her mother had supplied her. After the French Revolution, in the spirit of republicanism it seemed, semiprecious stones had come into vogue, whereas before the nobility had worn only diamonds, emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls. Valeria had no pieces of precious gemstones yet, though her mother had told her that when she went to London to be presented at court, Regina would see that she had some appropriate jewelry.
Joan’s eyes sparkled. Valeria’s accessorizing was always interesting and unique. She began taking down the tightly braided bun that Valeria wore during the day. “I think that would be lovely. And might I suggest that you wear the peach ribbon for a sash, and your peach-tinted slippers, instead of the blue?”
“Perfect!” Valeria said. “I shall be matched from head to toe.”
Expertly Joan began to arrange Valeria’s hair. After Valeria had worn a tightly braided bun all day, her hair had a deep wave, and Joan could make the most graceful loose chignon, right on the back of Valeria’s head. Fashionable hairstyles were based on the classical Greek and Roman styles. Valeria’s hair was so thick that the chignon precisely mirrored the extended bun on Greek statues. It was necessary for Joan to cleverly secure it with hairpins, but she had learned to do it so that they looked decorative instead of functional.
The prevailing fashion was for wispy tendrils of curls surrounding the face and the back of the neck. Most women added to this classical simplicity by having flat curls frame the face, or wearing long crisp ringlets in the back or over the shoulder. But Valeria disliked wearing the rag-curls at night to effect tight curls and ringlets. Joan had cleverly found a way to dress Valeria’s heavy hair: she had concocted a very light pomade, scented with meadowsweet. She would moisten her fingertips with water, barely touch the pomade, then take small baby-wisps of hair and rub them between her fingers, making them curl sweetly. It gave a softening halo effect to Valeria’s rather strong features.
Although Joan had become adept at arranging Valeria’s hair, it still took a long time. Thoughtfully Valeria asked, “Joan, are you going to be obliged to attend the ladies?”
Joan smiled mischievously. “No, miss, and that is due to her ladyship, and very grateful I am, too. Lady Jex-Blake, now she rang when she finally woke up yesterday morning—or afternoon—and demanded that Miss Platt attend her. Miss Platt did go to her then, but when it came time to dress for dinner Sophie went to her. Then Lady Jex-Blake goes sashaying out to find Mr. Trueman, and dressed him down, she did, for sending her the second housemaid.”
Valeria’s eyes lit up. “Oh, how I wish I could have witnessed that! How did Trueman bear up?”
“Oh, very well, as he always does. When she finished her little tantrum, Mr. Trueman informed her that Miss Platt’s duties took all of her time, and before Lady Jex-Blake could even start in on me, Mr. Trueman told her also that I was obliged to attend you, miss, and that her ladyship had directed that Sophie dress her, and Amelia and Laurie would do the other ladies.”
“My mother seems to be rather too kind and gentle at times,” Valeria said, “but she is very conscious of all of you, and takes your welfare seriously.”
“That she does, miss,” Joan agreed heartily. “That’s one reason why, since her ladyship came to Bellegarde, positions here are so much sought after. Neither her ladyship, nor you, miss, will ever lack for servants.”
“Really? Just lately—in fact, just today—I’ve started wondering about the servants,” Valeria said. “Do you get enough to eat?”
Joan looked incredulous. “Why, of course, miss! Whyever would you think such a thing?”
“It’s just that Mary Louise is so very thin.”
“Oh, yes, she’s a scullery maid and they work harder, and longer than anyone, except the hall boy. I started out as a scullery maid, and I was that scrawny, skin stretched over bones, until I made housemaid. But there again, at Bellegarde, if you do your work well and keep yourself neat and clean and mind your manners, you’ll likely rise in the household. That’s not always true of the great houses. Now, miss, these orange roses do look right nice with your coral pins. I’m thinking, though, that we could add some little bits of this white yarrow, and maybe even one or two of the forget-me-nots?”
“As always, Joan, you have better ideas than I of how to show me off,” Valeria said with a smile. “Why don’t you make it three of the forget-me-nots?”
* * *
Valeria was perfectly dressed and coiffed when she went down to join the others at ten minutes to eight o’clock. The guests were gathered in the drawing room with her stepfather standing in the middle of the group, holding a cut glass tumbler full of port and talking loudly. “You should have seen Prinny’s production at the fête! It was magnificent, I must admit, even for him.”
Poor old King George III had finally gone irretrievably mad the previous year. Finally, after much political wrangling with the Whig-controlled Parliament, the Prince of Wales was named prince regent in February of 1811. With King George so very ill, the prince regent—indulgently called “Prinny”—could make no overt celebration of his rise to power, but he did decree that a grand party should be held June nineteenth, ostensibly in honor of the French royal family. Two thousand invitations were issued. Valeria wasn’t surprised that her stepfather had been invited to the fête, for he was considered part of “Prinny’s set.” Certainly Lady Maledon would have been invited too, and Lord Maledon should have taken her with him, even if he didn’t want her and Valeria in London. He hadn’t, though, and Valeria was irritated that he’d talk about it now in front of them. She glanced at her mother, but her face was set in a polite smile.
Maledon went on, “Two thousand people, what a crush! The dining tables set up in the conservatory were two hundred feet long. At the prince’s table were seated two hundred, and of all things, it had a fountain at the head of it, a stream flowing down it, with green moss and water-flowers, and it had fish swimming in it!”
Lady Jex-Blake, her dark eyes glittering, asked, “And so you were seated at the prince’s table?”
“I was,” he said loftily. “And a fine dinner it was too. Everything was served on silver, even the soup bowls. Never seen anything like it. Perhaps I might stock up on silver plates and bowls and mimic it.”
Miss Shadwell trilled, “Oh, and the fountain and stream and fish too, my lord? Surely you must have that! Such grandeur, such exquisiteness!”
Valeria’s mouth twisted; she was certain that exquisiteness was not a word. Her mother gave her a warning look.
Just then Trueman appeared at the arched doorway and announced sonorously, “My lady, dinner is served.” He was a tall, barrel-chested man of forty-five, with a deep stentorian ringing voice. Valeria had never seen a single expression on his lantern-jawed face. He was the most impassive man she had ever known; he was so guarded that it seemed nothing at all could ever ruffle him, or impress him.
In Town, when guests for a formal dinner were carefully selected, it was imperative to follow a strict precedence in proceeding into the dining room. In the country, however, and with an informal party such as this, the rules were slightly more relaxed. It was customary for the host to lead, escorting the highest-ranking lady of the party, so Lord Maledon offered his arm to Lady Jex-Blake, who would be seated on his right. The others followed in a loose group, and selected their own seats. Colonel Bayliss quickly rounded the table to seat himself by Lady Jex-Blake; Mrs. Purefoy took her seat on Lord Maledon’s left, and Mr. Mayhew took the chair next to her. Regina would be seated at the foot of the table, and so this left Valeria and Miss Shadwell to pick their seats. Hoping that she wouldn’t be subjected to Colonel Bayliss’s greedy gaze, and callously not caring that her guest Miss Shadwell might be, Valeria tried to take the seat next to Henry Mayhew. But Miss Shadwell deftly stepped in front of her, and with resignation Valeria went to take her place by Colonel Bayliss. The two footmen got all the ladies seated, then held the chairs for the men, and lastly Trueman seated Lord Maledon.
“I must say, Maledon, that this room is grand enough for silver and fountains and streams,” Lady Jex-Blake commented. Valeria winced at her use of the familiar in addressing her stepfather, but her mother appeared not to notice.
The dining room was fine indeed. It was a long room with walnut wainscoting and deep-crimson wallpaper flocked in velvet with a highly stylized floral repeating design. The oak flooring was polished to a high sheen. The dining table was a long oval, covered with a gleaming white damask linen. The ornately carved William and Mary chairs had tall cushioned backs and plump seats, upholstered with Genoa velvet in a red-blue-and-black floral design. Over the table was an enormous crystal chandelier that cast a soft glow over the diners.
After all were seated, the two footmen began to serve the first course, a rich turtle soup. It was odd, Valeria mused as she surreptitiously watched them set the bowls in front of the diners with economical grace, that footmen’s livery was now the exact style that only gentlemen wore in the previous century. The Maledon livery was slate blue and silver, and the footmen’s long coats and waistcoats were heavily trimmed with silver cords and had large silver buttons. In the daytime they wore broadcloth knee breeches the same color as their coats, but in the evenings they wore white satin breeches, with white stockings and shoes with silver buckles. Their eighteenth-century attire was completed by powdered wigs, with a long queue.
The footmen were brothers; in fact, they were Joan’s brothers. There were many Davieses in the parish, as they were an old family with a tendency toward having many children. They also tended to be uncommonly attractive people. Though they were often mistaken for twins with their similar handsome features and broad shoulders, Ned Davies was twenty-three and an inch taller than Royce, who was twenty and an even six feet tall. Both had dark hair hidden under their wigs, as well as that most important characteristic of footmen—muscular calves.
It was customary at formal dinner parties for the hostess to control the flow of conversation. During the first course, she opened a conversation with the person seated to her right, and the table followed. During the second course, she “turned the table,” speaking to the person on her left, with the others following suit, and so on with each course. In this way no person was neglected by his or her partners.
But, Valeria disdainfully noted, apparently Lady Jex-Blake had not dined much in Polite Society. When Ned placed the bowl of soup in front of her, she looked up at him coquettishly and said in an over-loud voice, “Oh my, Lady Maledon, you do have such handsome footmen! You must be the envy of all of your acquaintance. I declare, I should very much like to steal them from you. What are their names, pray?”
Valeria saw that Ned and Royce looked startled, and their cheeks colored slightly. It was hard for her not to react herself to the crass mistakes in this little speech Lady Jex-Blake had made. First, she had called down the table to make herself heard to Lady Maledon; second, she had noticed the footmen, which was a grave breach of etiquette and offended and embarrassed them. Their pride was in serving quietly, without any intrusion whatsoever on the diners. Truly quality service was such that the food seemed to appear magically. It was understood that the lady of the house was never obliged to make any signal to the butler or footmen, or to take any notice of them at all.
But the most egregious error that Lady Jex-Blake had committed was asking Regina to name the footmen. This was unheard of, and Valeria observed, with a sort of vexed amusement, that one of Trueman’s eyebrows shot up slightly, though he was as stony-faced as always. This was equivalent to anyone else’s throwing his hands up in the air and shouting, and Valeria had to stifle a smile.
Unruffled, Lady Maledon politely answered, “Yes, they are very handsome young men. The footman serving you is named Ned Davies, and the other is his brother Royce. I would ask you not to steal them away from us, however, for they are very valuable members of our staff.”
It was unusual for the lady of the house to call the footmen by their real names; it was crucial, in the status of the nobility, to have “matched pairs” of footmen, and so they were often renamed James and John or Will and Thomas. Lady Maledon had no use for such callousness—she also abhorred some women’s insistence on simply calling their cook “Cook.” Valeria was certain Lady Jex-Blake would comment on the names, but instead she said, “Very well,” with a deep mock sigh. “But I’m sure I shall never be able to find such a fine matched pair. Mmm, this soup is delicious! Wherever were you able to find such good turtle this time of year, Maledon?”
By now the natural order of conversation was ruined, of course. Miss Shadwell was talking animatedly to Mr. Mayhew, but Lord Maledon was much taken up with Lady Jex-Blake, which stranded Mrs. Purefoy. But it wasn’t such a bad thing, Valeria decided, because after a perfunctory greeting to her, Colonel Bayliss had turned to compete with Lord Maledon for Lady Jex-Blake’s attention. At least his lecherous gaze wasn’t crawling over her. Happily she started talking quietly to her mother.
“Mamma, you look absolutely stunning,” she said. “I think that deep green suits you as no other color, but then again I think that with every dress that you wear. You’re so fortunate, with that lily-and-rose complexion, that you can wear any shade and it flatters you.”
“Thank you, my darling,” she murmured. “I must admit that green is my very favorite. It might have something to do with the fact that of all jewelry, I most prefer emeralds, and I particularly love these.” She gave a small secret smile to Valeria.
Valeria’s father had given her the emerald necklace and earrings. Regina rarely mentioned her first husband, believing it was disloyal to Lord Maledon. She did tell Valeria things about Lord Segrave as her father; but she hardly ever referred to anything about him as a husband. Valeria returned her smile with a rapturous one of her own.
As the meal went on, Valeria and her mother spoke very little, for Regina was much distracted by the questions Lady Jex-Blake persisted in half-shouting down the table to her. Valeria had ample opportunity to observe all the guests, and her stepfather, and she learned much.
First of all she studied Lady Jex-Blake, as she was avidly curious about her. She presented odd contrasts, as her speech and dress were refined and tasteful, but her manners were crass. Valeria wondered how she had learned the refined diction of the upper class; she recalled that Craigie had told her that before marrying Sir Henry she had been his serving-maid. Always there was a clear distinction between the servants’ accents and that of the gentry and nobility. How was it that Lady Jex-Blake had learned to modify her speech but obviously hadn’t learned the simplest rules of etiquette? Valeria reflected that perhaps Mrs. Banyard was right, Lady Jex-Blake was very good at “apin’ her betters.”
It was with some envy that Valeria observed Lady Jex-Blake’s dress. She was wearing a rich satin gown of a dark orange-red, the color of cinnamon, and it went very well with her rather sallow complexion. In spite of all Lady Jex-Blake’s protestations, Sophie had done her hair very well. She had a braided bun, with three small braids descending in loops from the back, and small ringlets and curls all around her face and neck. A satin ribbon, the same color as her dress, made a bandeau high on her forehead and was intricately entwined in the braids. Diamond stars glittered in her dark hair, and she wore a heavy gold necklace with square-cut diamonds and small baguettes. Valeria reflected moodily that she would look very well in that color, and she wouldn’t wear such oversized and ostentatious jewelry.
As they made their way through the first course, which was the soup and entrées of light meat dishes and fish and shellfish, Valeria was relieved to see that though Lady Jex-Blake was a crude woman, at least she was intelligent enough not to openly flirt with Lord Maledon, even if she used the over-familiar “Maledon” to address him. She smiled too much and laughed too loudly, but her attentions did seem to be divided evenly between him and Colonel Bayliss.
The footmen took away the soup bowls and began serving the meat and fish. Ned brought a silver platter heaped with veal fricandeau and unobtrusively bent over to offer it to Lord Maledon, while Royce began at the foot of the table, offering Regina curried lobster. They then served the guests. Next Ned brought around stewed mullet, and Royce brought fillets of salmon.
For perhaps the dozenth time Lady Jex-Blake called down to Regina. “I see that you are at the very forefront of fashion, Lady Maledon. In London it is all the rage to be served à la russe instead of à la français,” she said with a supercilious air.
Her French accent was atrocious. She was correct, however; for many years among all but royalty, dinners had been served by the footmen’s placing the dishes on the table, aligning them exactly along the sides. Whichever gentleman was sitting closest to the meat courses was expected to carve, which presented a difficulty to many men, for it was a skill that only experienced cooks were really good at. The diners helped themselves, usually from whatever dishes happened to be next to them, for it was considered boorish to call up and down the table to ask for dishes.
Service à la russe was when the food was placed on sideboards, the butler carved, and the footmen served each dish separately to the diners. It took longer, but it was decidedly more elegant and made for a more graceful table. Now, instead of great platters of meat and roasts in the center of the table, beautiful arrangements of flowers or fruit were set. Instead of each place setting’s having a clutter of silver, different plates, and several different glasses, the footmen placed the correct dish, silver, and wineglass for each course.
As they were served the fish, Valeria again noticed something odd about Lady Jex-Blake, or rather she saw a peculiar furtive exchange between her and Mrs. Purefoy across from her. Mrs. Purefoy picked up the two fish forks and in a jerky movement held them up for a mere second, frowning. Lady Jex-Blake started, then set her dinner fork down and picked up the second fish fork. Apparently she hadn’t known that instead of using a knife to cut up the fish, one used two forks to separate the soft flaky pieces. After this little exchange Valeria watched Mrs. Purefoy more closely, and saw that she did indeed signal Lady Jex-Blake each time to indicate the appropriate way to use the silver. It gave Valeria a perverse delight to see this further proof that Lady Jex-Blake was not only ill-mannered; she was ill-bred.
But all the while she was watching Lady Jex-Blake and her gaffes, Valeria closely observed her stepfather. By the time the dessert course was served, she was beginning to think that perhaps Craigie had been right. Her stepfather did not seem to be a healthy man.
He ate hardly anything at all, except the soup, and he ate two bowls of that. He took a small portion of each dish offered, but Valeria saw that he ate only a bite or two of the mullet, none of the lobster, none of the veal, and only a tiny bit of one of the meats of the second course, a roast rabbit. He didn’t touch the vegetables, and used no sauce at all.
When giving formal dinners, her mother kept a sumptuous table, serving a different wine with each course. The footmen filled up the glasses of the diners, and it was up to them whether they wished to partake or not. Valeria never drank wine, for early on she had found that if she drank only one glass it gave her a headache, and if she drank two glasses her head swam. She drank either water or lemonade, which were also served.
Normally her stepfather heartily drank of the good wines served at his table, but on this night Valeria noted that he didn’t touch a single drop of wine, yet he drank glass after glass of port. As the meal progressed, Lord Maledon’s face grew redder, his voice louder, his conversation more reckless.
As Valeria was watching him, he laughed raucously at something Lady Jex-Blake had said. Then in a loud coarse tone, his words slurred, he said, “You are one wicked wench, Mavis! Oh, yes, a man must watch himself with you, get too close and he might get his eyes clawed out!”
Even Lady Jex-Blake had the grace to look embarrassed at this outburst, and the table grew silent. But Lord Maledon didn’t seem to notice, as he began telling Colonel Bayliss about Lady Jex-Blake’s superior horsemanship.
Valeria glanced at her mother. Regina gazed down as she delicately took a spoonful of cherry ice. When she looked up, only an expression of polite interest was on her face. But Valeria could now clearly see the sorrow in her eyes.