The sisters arrived at
their aunt's house late in the evening. Darkness had already
descended and the choking smoke and stench of the city had driven
Helen from distress to despair. The improved quality of air as they
reached the wealthier part of the city wasn't enough to cure her, and
even being inside their aunt's home – scented beautifully of
lavender, beeswax and warmed wine – couldn't soothe her, although
it delighted Rose.
The servants were
expecting the sisters and were all miraculously available and
required to help bring in luggage and whisk the girls into the
required room. Even the cook found it justified to come upstairs
carrying a platter of delicate cakes and biscuits for the girls to
snack on. Within half an hour the entire household were gossiping
delightedly about Miss Rose, while even the nicest, most forgiving
individual was unable to attribute to Miss Helen a quality more
appealing than having a “very pleasant voice” when she declined
the special treats laid before her.
Their aunt shared the
opinions of all her staff, although the knowledge would never be
admitted by the separate parties. She had previously held to the
opinion that the elder should be presented and wed before the younger
could be admitted into society. Witnessing the girls before her now,
she was convinced that Rose would never have had a chance if that
rule were adhered to. That being so, she refrained from making the
speech she originally intended which had been expressly designed to
inform Rose that while she may be in public, she must at all times be
no more than a shadow as it was truly Helen's presentation and Rose
was here merely on sufferance and instead calmly observed that as
both girls were being presented together she would ensure that they
were subjected to the same preparation lessons.
Helen, wan and wilting
after the journey, allowed the words to wash over her. Rose
alternated between excitement over the plans being made on her behalf
and concern for Helen, but as she had herself firmly under control
and was eventually able to sip delicately at a cup of tea, Rose soon
became consumed by her enthusiasm for the plans over the next few
months including, but not limited to seemingly endless amounts of
shopping, dance lessons, dress fittings, parties, picnics, morning
visits, afternoons driving through parks, potentially horse rising
lessons, musical soirées, a multitude of balls and even one masked
ball.
As she became
increasingly animated, her aunt marvelled at how the sparkle in her
eye and the light flush in her cheeks enhanced the beauty of her
facial features. Casting a baleful glance at Helen, she wondered,
with some slight resentment, how she was ever going to get the elder
sister off her hands once the younger was married. Helen was
oblivious to her aunt's burgeoning hostility and for some reason the
lack of response to an attitude her aunt felt slightly ashamed of
only caused her to feel irritated that Helen was such an insipid,
dull, grey wisp of a thing.
Sighing internally, she
asked the girls if they knew sufficient card games to join in a
little light entertainment at quiet house parties. Not, she averred,
that they should gamble to excess, but they must be able to
participate in the lighter entertainments that were offered to young
maids. Rose happily regaled her aunt with tales of the specific games
they knew and evenings with the son of the local pastor as young
girls as well as parlour games at their seminary. The picture she
painted of her sister as gaily leading a pitched battle of wits
against the headmistress on a weekly basis, with teams supporting
either side and the celebrations afterwards caused her to regard
Helen with a quizzical eye and a sudden realisation that perhaps few
women look their best after a few days of travel.
That being the case,
she decided they should all retire early as they had a terribly long
day ahead of them. Both girls assented, although Rose seemed a little
disappointed at the abrupt end to her evening and briefly wondered if
her story had offended her aunt. The insistence that they call her
“Aunt Agatha” rather than the “ladyships” and “ma'ams”
that had so far littered their conversation went some way to
assuaging that fear. Aunt Agatha rang the bell vigorously and
directed the girls to their rooms. When they arrived and Helen
realised she would be sleeping alone, she was as fearful as Rose had
guessed she might be. However, the shame she felt of her dreams
caused her to internalise any feeling related to them as much as
possible and even in her exhausted state she was able to disguise a
response that the vast majority of people would consider odd enough
to remark on.
Rose said she would
check her own room, change into nightwear and revisit before they
slept. Helen assented, relieved, and one of the aids that had
escorted them up helped her disrobe and guided her to bathe in the
warm water at the basin. The maid then sat her before the mirror and
spent twenty minutes brushing her hair out until it shone. The
unaccustomed luxury lulled Helen beyond anything she had ever
imagined and when the maid coaxed her into bed and she discovered,
instead of the chill sheets of the seminary, the damp sheets of a
public inn or the hard mattress of her childhood she had been
provided with a luxurious feather quilt, several blankets and a deep,
soft mattress which had been perfectly and evenly warmed. It was like
climbing into a full body hug and although she propped herself up on
the copious pillows provided intending to wait for Rose, the maid
hadn't even closed the door before she was soundly asleep. Peeking
through the door ten minutes later, Rose smiled and blew out the
majority of the candles before returning to her own room and sleeping
herself.
The next morning Aunt
Agatha, herself an early riser, had instructed the household staff
most strictly that they were on no account to disturb either girl.
Consequently, it was almost 11 am when Helen, blinking, pushed
herself upright in a brightly lit room, decorated in emerald and teal
colours, picked out in gold. The vibrant colours after years of
practical greys and browns made it seem like a fantasy. In addition,
she had been so physically and mentally exhausted by the rigours of
her journey that she had spent the night in a deep dreamless sleep
and the feeling of blissful, rested contentment that resulted was
vaguely alien to her. She slid out of bed and spied the night coat
cast across a sofa. It was so luxurious and soft that she slid into
it, even though the room was beautifully warm and smiled as she
looked around the room.
She spied a pair of
matching slippers and eagerly climbed into them. Before she had the
second on, she was interrupted by the maid peering cautiously around
the door. Seeing the bedcovers cast to one side she made her way into
the room and bobbed a curtsey to Helen. When she rose, she was unable
to hide the surprise she felt.
“Oh!” Helen saw her
expression and immediately feared she had done something wrong. “Am
I not supposed to wear the robe? I thought it had been put there...”
trailing off, she gazed, wide eyed at the maid who was vigorously
shaking her head and bobbing a series of apologetic curtseys.
“No, miss, no indeed
miss, I'm so sorry miss. I didn't mean to stare.”
Walking forwards, Helen
touched the maid gently on the arm. “No, I should apologise, I
obviously startled you. Would you please tell me how?”
Helen's voice, which
had been discussed as pleasant the night before, now she was rested,
happy and relaxed was soft, gentle, warm and musical. It carried with
it the essence of Helen's gentle personality and made kinds of
promises about what she could do as a singer and the maid, as so many
before her had, immediately fell under its spell. Deeply flushing and
wishing she had something nice to say, the maid confessed that she
looked like a different person this morning.
Helen burst out
laughing.
Startled, the maid
gazed wide eyed at her for another moment before recalling herself
and dropping her gaze to the fingers she knotted wildly before her.
Helen soon stopped laughing and next time she spoke her voice was
once again a new kind of joy to listen to. The smile on her face was
audible as she reassured the maid that no-one would disagree as she
was renowned for being a poor traveller; and when the maid cast her
eyes up into that face she was shocked once again by the difference a
genuine smile made in the face of this young lady.
Her eyes, so big and
grey had acquired shades of sparkling blue and green, her skin was
tinted with the faintest coral tone and her lips curving upwards
pushed out her cheeks and turned her long thin face into a heart
shaped, well balanced arrangement of features that were delightful to
contemplate. In comparison to her sister – the epitome of a Snow
White princess – she would always be considered washed out and
faded, but by herself she possessed a grace, charm and quiet beauty
that appealed to many without them quite understanding why.
The maid felt her own
lips quivering upwards into a timid smile and when asked for her name
confessed she was called Emily.
“Well, Emily, it's
lovely to meet you. Would you please direct me to my clothing? I
haven't eaten properly for a few days and I'm in need of some
sustenance.”
Emily bobbed into yet
another curtsey and asked a series of polite questions about whether
Miss wanted to wash, what she wanted to wear, whether she wanted a
bonnet put aside for afternoon activities. Helen dealt with each
enquiry in the calm manner which made her seem accustomed to such a
thing, while inside she still marvelled at her surroundings and the
bewildering upgrade in her circumstances now she had left school.
Although she had grown up in similar circumstances of wealth, as a
child she had never experienced them for herself – schoolrooms and
governesses were not, in her limited experience, palaces of delight
and young girls were certainly not permitted to have someone run
around after them.
Eventually she was
seated, mostly dressed, before her mirror again as Emily dressed her
hair. Curious about the household, Helen had encouraged Emily to talk
and it had already been revealed to her that Rose had risen two hours
before and breakfasted well. She was currently in the morning room
flitting between playing idly on the pianoforte and playing with the
various decorative trinkets that festooned the surfaces of the room.
Aunt Agatha had been awake since before 6, and had breakfasted alone,
spending an hour with her Bible in the quiet of her own dressing room
as was her custom. Each lady had a dedicated maid who was currently
either cleaning, unpacking, preparing or, in Emily's case, preparing
her mistress for the day. In the afternoon they were expecting a
hairdresser and modiste to visit the house so the maids had been set
the task of identifying clothes that must be discarded: those that
could be modified and those that were suitable for town wear. Aunt
Agatha's maid was searching through her wardrobes to see if there
were any dresses of her own that could be adjusted for the girls –
her expectation (which would shortly be justified) being that neither
girl would own anything that couldn't be worn by a fifteen year old.
