CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The Small Secrets of Delicate Young Ladies
“The great are not sufficiently attentive to the wants of their dependents . . . ”
Bury, Charlotte, The Diary of a Lady-in-Waiting
Once she finally watched Mrs. Fitzherbert and her girls descend the stairs to meet their royal dinner guests, Amelia went into her own room and collapsed.
The past several hours had been a whirlwind. Miss Mary Ann had torn out the ruffle Amelia had just mended this afternoon, necessitating a last-minute repair. Rather than accepting the simple hairstyle Amelia had planned, Miss Seymore insisted on a confection with dozens of curls and pearl pins, which took well over an hour and had to be accomplished while Miss Mary Ann fretted about her dress and tugged at the neckline in a vain attempt to make it sit just a touch lower. At last, Amelia had to beg her to stop lest she tear something new.
Mrs. Fitzherbert was in a dour mood. She seemed grimly determined to see this dinner through, but was so distracted, she changed her mind half a dozen times about the jewels she wanted and the gloves and the way she wanted her hair pinned.
Everyone had ignored the occasional shouts from outside as Jim Geery and the other men on watch cleared away yet another group of idlers or newspapermen or both.
But now it was done, and Amelia could take a moment to breathe and consider what she should do next.
The pendulum clock on the wall told her it was half eight. She had no window in her room, so she could not peek outside, but she’d left her door open a crack. From the sounds drifting up from the stairwell, it seemed as if the Duke and Duchess of York, and their party, had indeed arrived.
Amelia considered sneaking down the stairs. There might be something useful to be learned by eavesdropping on the dinner conversation. But she did not, because her mind kept returning to the scrap of paper she’d found in Miss Seymore’s dressing table.
Tonight. Ten o’clock.
A real dinner, especially with royalty—which the Duke of York was, after all—would go on for hours. Whatever was meant to happen at ten . . . if it was still in the offing, Minney Seymore would have to make some excuse to get away from the table.
Amelia had served in more than one house with a dramatic young lady. Not to mention a dramatic matron. She had seen many of the tried-and-true methods of escaping from unwanted company.
She strongly suspected that well before ten o’clock chimed, Miss Seymore would develop a sick headache.
As soon as the clock chimed half nine, Amelia heard the patter of slippers and the swish of skirts that signaled a lady coming up the stairs. She set aside the mending she’d been using to keep busy and moved to the door. She smiled. There was Miss Seymore, looking over her shoulder and hurrying along the corridor.
Amelia pushed open the door. Miss Seymore jumped like a scared rabbit.
“Oh! McGowan.”
“Miss Seymore. Is something wrong?”
“No, no, that is, yes.” She rubbed her temple. “I’m having one of my sick headaches. I need to lie down.”
And I’m the Archbishop of Canterbury. “Oh dear!” Amelia came forward. “We must get you out of this gown, and then I shall make you a cool compress.”
Miss Seymore very clearly wanted to tell her not to bother, that she didn’t need any help. Then, evidently remembering the number of buttons, tapes, and hooks on her dress, she smiled weakly.
“Thank you, McGowan.”
Once they were in the young ladies’ dressing room, Miss Seymore remembered to wince and sigh every so often as Amelia helped her out of her dress and into her nightgown, but mainly her attention was divided between the gilt clock on the mantel and the green velvet drapes drawn across the window.
Amelia, of course, pretended not to notice.
At last, she got the girl under the counterpane, with a violet water compress on her forehead.
“Thank you, McGowan,” Miss Seymore breathed, closing her eyes in a great show of exhaustion. “That’s much better. You can go now.”
“Oh, I thought I would sit with you awhile,” said Amelia. “Just until you’re asleep.”
“No, no! I shall rest much better if I am left alone.”
“Just as you like, miss,” said Amelia. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“No, nothing. Well.” She cracked open one eye. “If Mama comes up to ask, you’ll say you stayed until I fell asleep? And that I’m sleeping still? It’s only that she worries so, and I fear if she comes in, she’ll get us both into a fret.”
“Of course, miss,” agreed Amelia. “I’ll do just as you say. There is no need to worry her or you any further.”
“Thank you, McGowan.” The sigh Miss Seymore breathed as she lay back sounded a lot like relief.
Amelia made her curtsy, even though Miss Seymore had her eyes closed. Then she left the room and softly closed the door behind her.
She should have returned to her own room then, to await the sound of the bell or any other summons. But her room was the last place Amelia intended to be right now.
Instead, she assumed a businesslike air and walked to the far end of the corridor, where there stood a pair of pocket doors. She’d done a bit of exploring earlier, and on the far side of these doors, she’d found the dramatic conservatory she’d glimpsed when she arrived. It was even more amazing from the inside—a curving, glassed-in balcony filled with all sorts of exotic plants and flowers in enough colors to rival the painted glass windows in a church. It also happened to overlook Mrs. Fitzherbert’s beautiful walled garden.
And if that’s not where Miss Seymore plans to be next, I’ll eat my bonnet.
Some might think that a supper party was the last time anyone would want to go sneaking about the house, but the truth was there were few better times. The staff was all busy, but all in one part of the house. The rest of the place would be dark and empty for hours yet. You could drive a herd of cows through the upper floors, and no one would notice.
Amelia slid back the doors just far enough to allow her to duck through and closed them at once.
The conservatory was filled with the dull silver moonlight of a London summer night. It turned the exotic plants into strange silhouettes with long fingers drooping down to clutch at the unwary.
Now’s not the time for silly fancies, McGowan. You leave that to Alice.
The thought of Alice rallied her spirits, as it always did. Amelia made her way across the tiled floor to the curving wall of windows and looked down. The terrace and garden spread out below, still and empty.
So far. Amelia moved behind a potted palm to disguise her silhouette, just in case anyone should look up through the windows, and got ready to wait.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long.
There was no mistaking Miss Seymore as she crept from the door below onto the terrace with exaggerated care. When the young lady was satisfied that she was not observed, she hurried into the garden and looked all around her. She put her hands on her hips.
Amelia grinned.
But in the next heartbeat, Miss Seymore whirled around, hands to her mouth. There was a blur of motion, and a shape—a man—dropped down from the top of the wall and spread his hands.
Ta-da!
Whoever he was, Miss Seymore ran forward and leapt into his arms. He caught her and spun her around. The next few minutes were spent in a kiss so passionate that Amelia felt her cheeks heating.
It also confirmed every last one of her suspicions. Not only that Minney Seymore had a gentleman, but that she’d also schemed to come back to London to see him. It was so exactly what she had expected that Amelia was conscious of a certain disappointment. Some absurd part of her had hoped the young lady would be up to something more original.
Oh, won’t Alice laugh when I tell her that! Amelia smiled to herself.
Still, now we know Miss Seymore has a gentleman, who can manage to sneak into a house even when it’s being watched. That’s a little something. Amelia tut-tutted as she watched the pair of shadows down below. They were still in each other’s arms, but they’d pulled back from their kiss. It was too dark to tell if they were talking or just gazing into each other’s eyes.
So, now what, you two? wondered Amelia.
In that same moment, she heard the unmistakable rumble of the pocket doors being pushed back. She faded back further behind the palm, heart in her throat, waiting for the glare of a lamp to give her away and cursing herself for not having thought up a story to explain her presence.
But no light cut through the darkness. Instead, a man’s shadow calmly closed the doors behind him.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” he murmured.
Faller.
Amelia’s first instinct was to shrink back, but that was ridiculous. No matter how he’d known where she was, she was pinched. Trying to hide would only compound the problem by making her look foolish.
She squared her shoulders and stepped out from behind the palm.
“Well, well,” breathed Faller. “Look who’s here.”
“Yes, look,” said Amelia as coolly as she could manage. “Aren’t you supposed to be waiting at table?”
She heard his grin more than she saw it. “Aren’t you supposed to be making sure madam’s room is all ready for her when the dinner’s over?”
“I needed a bit of air,” she said.
“And I believe you,” he replied solemnly. “Although thousands wouldn’t.”
“What should I believe about you?” she shot back.
Faller shrugged easily. “Whatever you like.”
“What if I believe you came to spy on Miss Seymore and her beau down there?”
That one stung. He stiffened, if only for a moment, and then relaxed, but it took some doing. “Aw, now, McGowan, there’s no need to make a fuss, is there?” he said in his charming, coaxing fashion. “Running to tittle-tattle . . . It just makes for bad feelings all round, doesn’t it?”
Amelia folded her arms. “And just why should I listen to you?”
“Because we’re friends, aren’t we?” He took a step closer.
Amelia didn’t move, and she didn’t answer.
“And what do we really care what any of them”—he jerked his chin toward the doors—“get up to? It’s not as if they care about any of us. So, we need to look out for ourselves and make sure they pays up for what they gets.”
Amelia met Faller’s gaze. Even in the darkness, she could see something had happened to him, and she knew he saw the same about her. Householders liked to talk about their staff being treated just like family, but when it came down to it, that was just talk. Anyone and everyone in service could find themselves out on the street for any reason, or no reason, just as soon as something went wrong.
That made it all too easy to decide to take what you could get.
Amelia had done it. Faller, of course, was doing it right now, by keeping an eye on her, in case Miss Seymore should get asked about the new maid.
The fact that he was here at all said to her that Faller had known about Miss Seymore’s rendezvous. Maybe he’d helped distract the men on watch to help the sweethearts keep their appointment.
Amelia held her tongue and let Faller come to his own conclusions about what she might be thinking just now.
As it happened, his conclusions were dead wrong but absolutely unsurprising. “And if you’re worried I might not put in a word for you, McGowan, of course I will.”
“Why should you?”
“Well, like I said, because we’re friends, aren’t we?”
Because you want me to keep my mouth shut. “We could be.”
“And Miss Seymore’s going to need a friend, and she’s the generous type.”
“What do you mean by that? She’s going to need a friend?”
“Never you mind,” said Faller. “You just make sure you’re ready when opportunity knocks, is all.”
Amelia opened her mouth, but movement caught her eye, and she turned back to the windows.
“Uh-oh.”
“What?” Faller looked, as well.
The sweethearts were standing at the edge of the wall’s shadow. The young man, had his hands out, pleading. Miss Seymore, though, had both hands clapped over her mouth.
“Love’s Young Dream down there said something she didn’t like,” muttered Amelia.
They both watched as Miss Seymore turned and fled across the lawn.
“Oh, that stupid girl!” groaned Amelia. “I’ve got to get back.”
Faller bolted for the pocket doors and opened one a bare inch. “Coast’s clear,” he said. “Remember what I told you.”
Oh, I’ll remember, thought Amelia as she ducked through the doors and hurried down the hall.
She meant to return to her own room, but at the last minute she swerved and darted through to Miss Seymore’s sitting room. So, once she was inside, she was able to whirl around and look extremely startled when Miss Seymore burst through the door behind her.
“Miss!” she cried. “I was just coming to check on you!”
Miss Seymore—tear stained, rumpled, her wrapper coming loose and the sash trailing on the floor—stared at her, speechless.
They both heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Amelia moved first. She shut the door to the hallway, grabbed the girl by the shoulders, and shoved her through to the bedroom. Thankfully, Miss Seymore’s paralysis broke, and she scrambled into bed and yanked up the covers. Amelia slapped the discarded compress over her eyes.
She heard the sitting room door open. Miss Seymore screwed her eyes shut.
Amelia turned and walked out into the sitting room, perfectly composed.
Miss Mary Ann stood there, her expression shifting from uncertain to suspicious.
“McGowan? Is Minney all right? Mama sent me up to check on her.”
“She’s sound asleep,” said Amelia.
“You’re sure?” Mary Ann was looking past her at the closed door.
Amelia moved to the door, putting one finger to her lips. She pushed the door open a little, so Mary Ann could see her sister, eyes closed, under the bedcovers.
Amelia pulled the door closed. Mary Ann looked both surprised and relieved.
“Well, I shall tell Mama. Thank you, McGowan.”
“Very good, miss.”
Miss Mary Ann was watching her intently. Amelia kept her eyes lowered and her demeanor composed. At last, the girl left her, presumably to go inform anyone who was interested that things upstairs were just as they should be.
If, that is, she hadn’t been trying to catch her sister out. Amelia didn’t for a minute believe that the existence of the sweetheart was a secret from Miss Mary Ann.
Once she was reasonably sure that the sitting room door would remain closed, Amelia returned to the boudoir.
“All right, miss,” she whispered.
Miss Seymore’s eyes snapped open. “Oh, McGowan. Thank you! You don’t know . . . Well, thank you.”
“You should go to sleep, miss,” replied Amelia. “Your mother’s guests will be gone soon, and she’ll be up to check on you herself.”
“Oh, yes. Yes, you’re right. You won’t tell her anything, will you?”
Amelia made a show of hesitation. “Well, I dare say there’s been no harm done.”
“Thank you!” Miss Seymore caught her hand and squeezed it. “I knew I could trust you.”
What happened out there? What did he say to you? Amelia bit her lip. To ask those questions now would be to admit she’d been spying. She’d have to take this carefully.
“Go to sleep, miss.” Amelia extricated her hand from Miss Seymore’s grip. She also took the dried-out compress. “You’ll have rings under your eyes in the morning if you don’t.”
This appeal to vanity did the trick. Miss Seymore rolled over and burrowed under her covers.
Amelia went back out into the sitting room and closed the door behind her.
Well, well, she thought. I may not be telling madam much, but won’t I have a whole lot to say to Miss Thorne!