CHAPTER FOUR #3
Dressing room? She went through the door indicated and found a room only a little smaller in size to the bedchamber. Here was a dressing table and stool, a long looking-glass, and a washstand. Two large presses stood at one side, along with a chest of drawers, a small armoire and a chest.
Rosina stared about her, fascinated. What would she do with such a place? Who could have sufficient clothes to fill all these receptacles? Not she, certainly. Her entire stock would fit into less than half the armoire and a single drawer.
“And through here,” the housekeeper said, crossing this room to a further door on the other side, “is the antechamber adjoining his lordship’s similar apartments.”
A sick feeling settled in Rosina’s stomach.
Why had she not anticipated as much? With unwilling feet, she moved slowly to follow Mrs Fawley.
The antechamber was a small no man’s land, placed directly over the front door of the mansion, where a large window let in light.
It contained a fireplace, with two plain chairs either side and a little table against the wall.
Rosina stared at the door that opposed her own. It was mercifully closed, but she could readily picture the rooms beyond. Rooms that at night contained her husband.
She moved to the fireplace and stared down into the empty grate.
For what purpose was this used? To make assignations, perhaps?
The cynical thought was pushed away. Lord Raith needed no assignation.
Four doors only separated him from taking up his marital rights at any time he chose.
Of what use to think of it? She had agreed to this of her own free will, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Will there be anything further, my lady?”
She turned quickly and forced a smile. “No, I thank you, Mrs Fawley.”
The housekeeper curtsied, and withdrew through Rosina’s own apartments. She stared after the woman, feeling acutely assailable and unprotected. Not that she could imagine how Mrs Fawley might save her from nightly raids.
Rosina fought down her discomfort. She must not think like this.
Only, how else was she to think of it? The whole dread notion had loomed hideously into view again, worse for the situation of these carefully convenient arrangements.
Rosina felt more distanced than if she had been presented with the fait accompli of having to share her spouse’s bed from the outset.
It had been the way Mama and Papa had lived.
Cousin Louise had only taken a different bedchamber to her husband’s out of choice.
But she was no longer Rosina Charlton, of no account. She was Lady Raith, a baroness, and she must learn to accommodate herself to the different circumstances attending that life.
The only difficulty was, she thought dismally, as she moved towards the door to her apartments, she did not feel remotely like Lady Raith.
That woman was some fabricated individual, with whom Rosina had nothing to do.
She felt like an intruder. It was inconceivable that this was her home, and that the man who occupied the suite of rooms across the way was indeed her lord.
Arrived in her dressing room, she discovered that her trunk had been brought up and placed upon the chest. It was already opened, and one of the maids was engaged in removing her garments from it and bestowing them in the various receptacles about the chamber. Startled, she made instant objection.
“Oh! I can do that myself.”
The girl looked astonished, but she bobbed a curtsy. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but Mrs Fawley instructed as I should do it for you.”
Heavens, she was become a lady indeed. No one but Gatty had ever waited upon her before.
She felt excessively uncomfortable. Particularly to have a servant go through the unprepossessing collection of her clothing.
For the first time she wondered with what fabricated tale Lord Raith had fobbed off the domestics.
The story Mr Ottery had outlined? Unlikely any of them had believed a word of it.
If they had, they certainly would do so no longer once this girl gave out the details of her belongings, as she undoubtedly would.
Unable to endure the humiliation, Rosina went through into the bedchamber, only to find a second maid preparing the bed for her occupation.
A lit candelabrum was set upon the table in the window, which had the odd effect of darkening the room.
Another curtsy was offered. She would have to become accustomed to that.
She, who had been upon cordial terms with Toly Aughton, the apothecary’s boy, and innumerable persons of all conditions these seven years, servants and traders alike.
“I’ll bring the warming-pan, my lady, if you’ll ring when you wish to go to bed,” said the girl, turning down the sheets.
She curtsied again, and made for the door.
Then halted with a gasp, and turned. “Begging your pardon, my lady, I forgot. His lordship’s compliments, and he’ll do himself the honour of dining with your ladyship in an hour, if that is convenient. ”
It was as much as Rosina could do to assent. Before she could recover herself, the other maid came in from the dressing room, bobbing again.
“Will your ladyship select which gown you choose to wear this evening?”
It was too much. Rosina sank down upon the bed, and clasped her hands tightly together in her lap, her eyes fixed upon the maid. “Pray, what is your name?”
“Joan, my lady.”
“Joan —” She took a steadying breath. “Pray don’t ask me what I am going to wear. You must see for yourself that I have few gowns. Indeed, this is my best, and I have worn it since yesterday. I am sure his lordship will not expect me to make any change this evening.”
Joan looked nonplussed. She was small, plump, and apple-cheeked. Likeable rather than pretty. Not much older than Rosina herself. She curtsied again.
“As your ladyship pleases.”
Rosina sighed. “That is all, thank you. You may go.”