Chapter 1 An Unexpected Arrival
STAINEYBANK, brINSHIRE; JANUARY
Miss Sophia Merrington gazed at the image on the page before her and sighed.
Such elegance! Such exquisite details! And, sadly, such extravagance.
‘A light blue, or grey chemise robe, of gossamer net, imperial crape, or Spanish gauze, worn over white pealing satin, ornamented up the front with French bows and knots of silver’, quoth the journal.
White satin? Six shillings a yard at the very least, and possibly twice as much.
The gauze would be a little less, and the bows and knots… she could make them quite small.
Then she read the next lines and despaired.
‘ A full melon sleeve, formed of the same material as the dress, and alternate stripes of white satin; finished with bows and knots of silver. A double roll of white satin round the neck of the robe, by way of tucker’.
Full sleeves in stripes of two materials?
A white satin tucker? And then the journal went on to describe the diamond comb in the hair, and diamonds for necklace, armlets and ear-rings.
She sighed even more heavily.
The slumbering figure on the sofa stirred. “Georgie? Oh, it is you, Sophia. Have I slept for a long time?”
“An hour or so, no more. Georgie went to see about the jellies. The duke came in to look at you, but I chased him away.”
“He fusses so, but I am perfectly well. Just… tired. And enormous.”
“Not much longer to wait now, Rowena,” Sophia said briskly.
She was very fond of her sister-in-law, and was delighted that Richard had married such a pleasant, unassuming woman, but the whole household revolved around her.
If she should happen to fancy a certain dish at dinner, an army of gamekeepers and poultry maids and gardeners and still room maids would be mobilised to provide the ingredients.
If she sneezed, the servants were thrown into a frenzy of possets and tisanes and tinctures, followed by a stream of midwives and apothecaries and physicians, who all recommended different remedies and stood in the hall roundly disparaging each other.
And the duke was the greatest worrier of them all.
Now that Richard was his official heir, the child Rowena carried would be the next in line, and oh, the hopes and expectations that rested on her to produce a son.
Sophia could only hope for that, too, for then perhaps the trembling excitation that infected Staineybank would dissipate and they could all settle back into their usual activities.
Not that there was much to look forward to in January, with the Christmas festivities past and not so much as an evening party on the horizon for months. It was dispiriting.
She sighed again.
Rowena heaved herself into a more upright position.
“Now, what is making you sound so out of sorts? No ball to plan for, I imagine. What are you reading? Oh, this is pretty,” she said, taking the journal from Sophia’s hands.
“White satin… French bows and knots of silver. That sounds quite delightful. Shall you have one like it made up?”
“I cannot afford it,” Sophia said dejectedly.
“Not even with the additional allowance from the duke? He is very generous.”
“Oh yes, the duke is generous, but Richard is not. I do not like to speak ill of my brother, for he is an admirable man in every other respect, but he is a nip-farthing, Rowena. Even you must admit it. He insists I must not overspend my allowance, not even by the cost of a single ribbon, and how can anyone be sure to keep to a specific sum? One must have clothes, after all.”
“He is careful with money, it is true,” Rowena said with a little smile. “Being a man, he does not quite appreciate the benefits of a new gown or slippers.”
“Or diamond armlets,” Sophia said with another sigh. “Just imagine how glorious that would be. With every movement, I should glimmer and sparkle.”
She held her arms in the correct position and executed a complete figure with all the steps, and then sighed again. “When, oh when will there be a ball? I cannot tell you, Rowena, how I long for a proper ball, but not when I have nothing to wear.”
“There will be no balls before Lady Day when your next allowance will arrive, but perhaps the seamstress might begin work a little early? She will know she will be paid, after all.”
“Richard will not permit it,” Sophia said dejectedly.
“We are never to buy anything for which we could not settle the bill immediately, if required. Nor are we allowed to borrow money, and we are never, ever to gamble to defray debts. Oh, it is hard! There is nothing like a new ball gown to lift the spirits.”
“Then you know the answer, Sophia,” Rowena said with a quick laugh. “You will just have to marry a vastly rich man who dotes on you so much that he gives you all his wealth to spend on ball gowns and diamond armlets.”
“All his wealth? But then we should be destitute and how should I survive without any new gowns at all?”
Rowena laughed out loud at her dejected tone. “There is no pleasing you! What you must do, Sophia, is what I was obliged to do for many years, and rework your old gowns. You have some very pretty ones that could be refreshed with very little effort.”
It was a strange thing, but Richard had said precisely the same thing to her many, many times, and it had merely made her cross and long even harder for the new gown or gloves or fan.
When Rowena said it, however, it sounded eminently reasonable and she could not think of a single argument against it.
Richard himself came in just then, with his sketchbook under his arm, and Sophia had no wish to hear any more about his precious orangery. For months now, he had been drawing up plans for it, so that Rowena might grow oranges and lemons and who knows what exotic fruits, and Sophia was tired of it.
Leaving them to their discussion, she slipped away to her room, and flung open the doors of the two presses that housed all her ball gowns.
She had quite a collection now after eleven years of balls and she had bought at least two for each season.
Laying them carefully on the bed, she counted thirty-one.
Since each gown had danced its way through four or five balls apiece, that was…
too difficult a sum to work in her head.
She kept a notebook with every ball listed, and all her partners, and what they had danced, together with a few comments about the number of couples and the quality of the supper and any particularly memorable moments, so she could work it out from that.
After some concentrated effort with the notebook, she reached a final number — one hundred and forty-one.
That was the sum of her life so far, one hundred and forty-one balls, any number of dances and partners and not a single offer of marriage.
Even in the days of her highest bloom she had attracted no suitors, and now, at the advanced age of twenty-eight, it was unlikely that she ever would.
She was a confirmed spinster, and even three older sisters in the same pitiable state was no comfort.
What was wrong with them all, that no man wanted any of them?
She lifted up her favourite gown, her very first. Horribly outdated now, of course — such full skirts!
So much material in it, and even Richard had agreed that she must wear silk to a ball.
She pressed the fabric to her face, wondering if she would still catch the faint scent of the perfume she had worn on that unforgettable evening… No, it was gone.
With another sigh, she carried it to the window to examine more closely.
Such a beautiful silk, that flowed over her hands like cool water.
And so much of it… if it could be carefully unpicked, perhaps a new dress could be contrived?
And there would even be enough left over for full sleeves, if she should want them.
Gathering up the gown, she rushed off to find Lily.
The duchess was almost the same age as Sophia, and also came from a family at the lower edge of gentility, where finding the money for new gowns was a constant struggle.
Even since her marriage to the duke, she still dressed frugally, and was adept at fashioning new from old.
“Have you never had to do this before?” Lily said, taking the gown to the window to examine it closely. “Richard must have been very generous with you.”
“Not he!” Sophia said. “The trustees were generous, certainly, but as soon as Richard came of age, he leased Leahollow and marched us off to a poky little house in Norwich, and reduced our allowances.”
“Oh!” Lily said, wide-eyed. “But perhaps there were debts to be settled?”
“No, he is just horridly cheeseparing. It is not so bad for my sisters, for Charlotte is as tight-fisted as Richard, Augusta is happy so long as she has a riding habit to wear, and Maria cares nothing for clothes when there are books to be read. Mama was the only one who understood, but even she could not sway Richard. His mind was entirely closed to the idea that one cannot exist on only two or three gowns a year. It is just not possible, not if one is to be respectably turned out.”
Lily laughed. “Indeed, I cannot fault your logic, cousin, for my sisters and I suffered just as you do. Poor Papa! There were so many of us, and the boys had to be educated and mounted, so there was very little left over for unnecessary items like clothing. We were only allowed new gowns twice a year, spring and autumn, and then it was only one morning gown, one walking and one evening. We spent half our days unpicking and sewing anew.”
“How dreadful!”
“Oh, it was a challenge we all relished. Happily for me, my godmother descended on us when I was about to come out, and insisted I needed a veritable mountain of gowns. Papa grumbled about it, and we only persuaded him in the end by telling him that good quality clothes could be handed down for year after year, and serve for several of my sisters.”