Chapter 3
The tea tray was forgotten as Mrs. Walker was called into the room and told about the arrangement.
Alec quietly slipped away.
Mrs. Hill wanted complete secrecy. No one must know my identity.
The staff would be told I was Mrs. Hill’s long-lost niece, come to stay with her in New York City.
The maid I spoke to when I first arrived would be offered a promotion in the house for her silence.
And when the time was right, Mrs. Hill would announce my adoption, and we would proceed from there.
Until then, Mrs. Walker was to appoint a lady’s maid for me, one who could be trusted with the secret, and if there was any gossip among the staff, it was to be shut down immediately.
“Do you have someone in mind for Miss O’Day’s lady’s maid?” Mrs. Hill asked Mrs. Walker.
“I think Deidre would be a good choice,” Mrs. Walker said. “She’s smart and hardworking. She keeps to herself.”
“Excellent. Please have her draw a bath for Miss O’Day and send Brown in to me. I’ll need to find a gown for Miss O’Day to use until we can get a suitable wardrobe made for her.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mrs. Walker left the room as Mrs. Hill walked to a door on the side and motioned for me to follow her.
“You’ll use Mr. Hill’s old bedchamber,” she said to me. “I’d prefer if you didn’t traipse through the house to get to my room for your daily lessons. The less the staff sees you, the better.”
I followed her into a room that held no bed—only dresses, shoes, hats, and other ladies’ accessories.
I’d never seen anything like it—not even in a store.
We moved through the dressing room and into another cavernous bedchamber, this one with dark cream wallpaper and thick, dark woodwork. The ceiling was so high, the room echoed, and a large canopied bed sat in the middle. Red damask drapes fell from a dark wooden frame to the floor.
“I purchased the bed from Versailles,” Mrs. Hill said. “It belonged to King Louis XIV.”
“A king slept in this bed?” I asked in disbelief.
She lifted a shoulder and then went to the window to open the shutters.
“This entire room was purchased in France, from the Chateau de Chantilly, and brought here. The trim, the flooring, even the finials around the lights.” She turned and looked around the room.
“It should do for now. After your bath, we’ll discuss our plans.
We have so much to accomplish and so little time to do it.
I intend to take you to Europe in April or May. ”
April was five short months away. Could I be ready to attract a duke by then?
Mrs. Hill left me without another word. I stood in the middle of that large, French room and tried to catch my breath as nerves filled my stomach and made me feel ill.
What had I just agreed to? And how would I tell Uncle Charlie and Aunt Orla what I had done? They’d think I was overreaching my station again—which I was. But how could I say no to this offer? Even now, I wanted to pinch myself. This couldn’t possibly be me. This couldn’t be my life.
I closed my eyes tight and then slowly reopened them—but I was still standing in Mr. Hill’s bedroom, near King Louis XIV’s bed.
A slight knock was followed by the entrance of Mrs. Walker and another maid. This one was a bit older than the one I’d met at the servants’ entrance, perhaps in her early thirties.
“Miss O’Day,” Mrs. Walker said, “this is Deidre Gallagher. She’ll be your lady’s maid.”
Deidre offered a small curtsey at the same time I did—but Deidre paused as she looked at me with a funny stare.
Was I not supposed to curtsey to the staff?
Warmth filled my cheeks.
“I’ll draw a bath for you, miss,” Deidre said as she went through a doorway I had not even noticed yet.
“Brown is assisting Mrs. Hill,” Mrs. Walker said. “She’ll have a gown ready for you when you’re done.”
“Brown?”
“Mrs. Hill’s lady’s maid. They’re referred to by their last name. You’ll call Deidre Gallagher.”
“Gallagher?”
“Yes. And I’m Mrs. Walker and the butler is Higgins. You’ll be meeting the other staff eventually—there are thirty-five of us—but, for now, we’re the only ones you’ll associate with.”
Gallagher, Brown, Higgins. My head spun.
Soon, Gallagher returned to fetch me for my bath.
She led me into a bathroom behind Mrs. Hill’s dressing room, between the two bedchambers. The bathroom was twice as big as our apartment on Mulberry Street, and everything was pristine white. Large windows let in natural light and a massive clawfoot tub sat against one wall.
Steam spiraled from the tub, fogging the mirror and windows.
I had never been in a real bathtub. All my baths had been in the summer months, in the river, where it was cool and refreshing. How hot was this water? Would it scald my skin?
“Let me help you, miss,” Gallagher said as she began to unbutton my dress.
I pulled back, putting my hands up to stop her. “I can undress m’self.”
“Very well,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
I couldn’t tell what she thought of me. She had to be surprised at my appearance. She had to have questions.
Slowly, I undressed myself but left my chemise on as I stood near the tub.
“Everything must come off, miss,” she said.
“Everythin’?” I’d never bathed naked before. It would have been indecent in the public baths.
“Yes, miss.”
I wanted her to stop calling me miss, but I was afraid to make the request. Surely she was more educated, more skilled and refined than I was. Why hadn’t Mrs. Hill asked her to become her daughter. Why me?
Embarrassment warmed my cheeks as Gallagher just stood and stared at me. She wouldn’t question me or challenge me—I could see it in her eyes—but she was judging me. She was probably laughing at my lack of knowledge about baths and wondering about her own misfortune in having to care for me.
With a deep breath, I decided that I would have to pretend I knew what I was doing. I couldn’t question everything Gallagher told me. I would just have to do it, even if it felt strange or uncomfortable.
I stripped off the last of my undergarments and watched as Gallagher left the bathroom, holding my threadbare items between her pinched fingers.
With her gone, I wasn’t sure how to proceed but decided the best course of action would be to get into the water. Slowly, I lifted one bare leg in.
The water was warm and pleasant as it pooled around my skin—not too hot and not too cold.
I pulled the other leg in and then lowered my body into the tub.
Warmth enveloped me from my neck to my toes. The smell of roses wafted up to my nose and I closed my eyes, feeling something like bliss for the first time in my life.
The bath was marvelous and every muscle in my body relaxed, easing into the weightlessness of the water.
Without even realizing it, I sighed.
What other wonders would I experience in Mrs. Hill’s home? My mind began to race with the possibilities—but I suddenly saw Aunt Orla’s sneering face in my mind, chastising me for indulging in fantasies.
But this wasn’t a fantasy. This was real.
Soon Gallagher was back, and she told me she would help me wash my hair.
It was another glorious experience as she poured warm water onto my head, lathered soap through my hair several times, and then rinsed it clean.
Even the soap felt extravagant and luxurious. It was soft against my skin and smelled like flowers. Nothing like the harsh soap I used at home.
Before long, Gallagher had a plush robe ready for me, and I stepped out of the bath. After drying my hair with a towel, she led me into Mrs. Hill’s large dressing room, where an outfit was waiting for me, including brand-new undergarments of the finest cotton I’d ever seen.
In quick succession, Gallagher helped me into drawers, stockings with garters, a chemise, and then a rigid corset.
“Such a small waist,” she said, almost to herself, which was her only comment since we’d started the process. I couldn’t tell if it was a compliment or just a passing remark.
After the corset came a padded bustle, which I’d never worn before, followed by a petticoat with stiff ruffles down the backside, a yellow skirt with flounces, tucks, and a small train, and then a long-sleeved matching bodice with a square neckline.
Mrs. Hill was taller and plumper than me, so Gallagher had to make do, but it was easy enough to draw the skirt tighter around my waist and adjust the bodice to fit.
Gallagher turned me to face the full-length mirror, and though my hair was still damp around my shoulders, I hardly recognized the woman before me.
I had never looked in a full-length mirror. It felt like I was meeting a stranger.
I was beautiful, with a creamy complexion, dark brown eyes, thick brown hair, and delicate features.
There was a natural rosiness to my cheeks, and my lips were a soft pink.
The warmth of the bath had heightened my color, I was sure, but for the first time, I could see what Mrs. Hill saw in me.
Though it was only external—she could never see the ugly truth on the inside.
No matter how pretty my gown, or how nice I smelled, the truth would eventually seep out of me.
Uncle Charlie and Aunt Orla saw it, and Mrs. Hill would realize it one day, too.
I just hoped that when it happened, I could find a way to repay her—because now that I had tasted such delight—in little under an hour—I was convinced that I was spoiled for the life I had once led.
By evening, I was exhausted. I had not slept the night before and Mrs. Hill had kept me engaged in conversation all afternoon. One-sided conversation, but I wanted desperately to know everything I could.