Authors: Kathryn Caskie
Jenny stilled her step, but did not turn around to face them. She wouldn't let them rile her. She was a lady after all and as such was above such petty remarks.
Straightening her shoulders she rounded the corner and entered her mother's chamber.
Her mother, who was sitting in her worn tufted chair before the low fire, looked up as Jenny opened the door.
Jenny grinned and raised her arms outward as she spun around in a joyous circle, allowing the dress's full skirts to lift with the momentum, before drifting gently down to her sides once more.
But instead of smiling with pride, as Jenny had expected, her mother only frowned, then set back to plunging her needle into the crisp linen napkin on her lap.
"Mama? How do I look?"
Her mother exhaled but did not look up. "You know very well. You look ridiculous in that gown."
"W-what?" Jenny shook slightly at this. "I thought you would be happy for me. Tonight my dream is coming true."
Then
she
turned
her
reddened
eyes
upward.
31
"
Thought I'd be happy?
Happy?
You are making a fool of yourself, child. Why, all of below stairs is abuzz about it. Why can't you let this dream die, child? Why can't you accept your lot in lif
e
—
y
ou are a lady's maid.
'Tis
a coveted position in service. You should be proud. 'Tis nothing to be ashamed of!"
Jenny shook her head as she walked to her mother and knelt down. "Mama, I am grateful for everything. And I am not ashamed of being in service. But you are right. I am not content. I want more. I deserve more."
Two burning dots appeared on her mother's pallid cheeks. "Because of your father's position in society? Bah! Jen, you are not of his ilk. You are in service and the sooner you come to accept this, the better off you will be."
Jenny rose slowly and moved to the small wooden box sitting on the bedside table. Opening it, she removed a gleaming opal brooch and turned back around.
"Oh,
n
o," her mother exclaimed, leaping up from the chair. She snatched the brooch roughly from Jenny's hand. "You're not wearing it this eve."
Jenny bristled. "But my father gave it to me."
"Which is exactly why you are not going to wear it.
I
ll not have it said I encouraged your nonsense. I won't!"
Heat collected in the corners of Jenny's eyes, and she
s
pun around and raced for the door, but when she reached it
,
she looked back over her shoulder. "''Tis
on
l
y
for one night, Mother. You needn't worry. By morn my dream will be ended and I will be simple Jenny Penny, the lady's maid
,
once more."
The short distance to her chamber never seemed so great. She sat down on her narrow bed carefully, so as
32
not to crush the gown, and waited in silence for her summons above stairs.
When the great clock in the upper passage finally toned the hour, Jenny quietly gathered up her pelisse and reticule and met the Feathertons and Meredith in the entry hall.
******************
As the Feathertons' town carriage ambled across the bill toward the Upper Assembly Rooms, Jenny watched her breath crystallize in the cold air. She drew her pelisse close over her shoulders. She should have worn something warmer, more appropriate to the weather, but the pelisse, trimmed with a bit of the whitest ermine, was the more stylish wrap of the two she owned.
Meredith, on the other hand, had insisted on wearing a horrid wool shawl, more determined to remain toasty warm than to be fashionable.
Chattering excitedly with her sister about the evening's grand possibilities, Lady Letitia sat directly across from Jenny, her gout-plumped feet resting on the only brazier in the carriage. Jenny kicked off her shoes and slipped her stocking-wrapped toes forward to steal a little warmth, but guilt got the better of her. The whole reason they were in Bath was to soften the effects of her employer's gout, and she knew she should not begrudge the old lady her comfort.
Spying Jenny's outstretched toes, Meredith nudged Jenny in the ribs. "Put your slippers back on, Jenny. You're a lady tonight, remember?" she whispered to her.
Jenny hurriedly shoved her feet back into her slippers, before either of the prattling matchmakers took
33
notice, then glanced about the cab in an effort to distract herself from a growing case of nerves. She'd ridden in the conveyance before, but tonight it was as if she were seeing it for the first time. The walls were green, but devoid of ornamentation, and the leather squabs were hard. No doubt stuffed with straw. Such a contrast to Lord Argyll's plush town carriage.
Instantly her mind centered on the handsome Scotsman, who she was sure would ask her to dance. This unnerved her more than a little for she only knew three or four dances, and those were of the country variety that she learned on the arm of dear old Mr. Edgar. She had not a clue what sort of dances the Qua
li
ty of Bath would prefer and at this moment, she wanted to not think about it. Lord above, she had to concentrate on gathering her courage just to walk through the door of the grand Upper Assembly Rooms.
"Now, Jenny, all of Bath society will be mingling at this event. Do take care to avoid drawing undue attention to yourself. A lady is demure, her movements graceful and understated. Do you understand, gel?" Lady Letitia leaned forward and seemed to rest her heft atop her large, pillowy bosom as she awaited Jenny's reply.
"Oh, heavens, Sister," Lady Viola quipped, "Jenny has been living in our home for years and has no doubt had opportunity to observe the two of us. Of course she understands." She blinked her round watery blue eyes at Jenny. "Don't you, dear?"
"Yes, of course, my lady." Jenny lowered her gaze as she delicately folded her hands atop her lap. For she could not meet either of the old wo
m
ens' eyes as the coming lie unfurled from her tongue. "I've already de-
34
cided to fashion mysel
f
... I mean, Lady Genevieve, in the gracious image of the two of you." Rather apprehensively, she raised her eyes.
Both of the Feathertons grinned broadly.
"Oh, please," Meredith murmured, but thankfully for Jenny, neither of her great-aunts seemed to hear her.
The carriage pulled to a jerked halt, thrusting Jenny forward and sending her beaded reticule to the floor. She leaned down to retrieve it and as she did, the carriage door opened and the footman extended his hand.
Oh, goodness. She wasn't ready! How could she ever imagine she could play a lady true? Jenny's startled gaze flew to Lady Viola, who rose, took the footman's hand, and climbed out of the carriage into the night. Lady Letitia and Meredith followed, and soon Jenny found herself shakily lifting her gown to carefully walk through the ice-encrusted mud toward the door of the Upper Assembly Rooms.
She should have thought to wear pattens to raise and protect her shoes, for no matter how carefully she proceeded, flecks of wet earth splattered upon her slippers and they would never, ever be the same. But such was the price of fashion.
As they passed through the columned doorway, Jenny removed her pelisse and looked about for a coat hook.
Lady Viola winced at this. Taking Jenny's upper arm in her hand, she guided her to the crew of awaiting footmen who were collecting wraps from ladies and gentlemen as they entered.
Oh, of course.
How stupid of her, Jenny chided. If this ruse was going to work, she had to remember to think and act like a lady, not a coarse maid.
Jenny squinted in the bright light. Even in the column-
35
ringed octagonal entrance hall candles were not to be spared. A great crowd of people momentarily mingled as they converged in this space, before passing through the double doors and disappearing into the grand ballroom.
Lud, who'd have thought there would be so many gentry in all of Bat
h
—
o
r even all of London!
Lady Viola tightened her grip on Jenny's arm for support and guided her in the direction of the ballroom. Jenny could scarce stop her head from swiveling as she gaped at the grand decor, the voguish fashion
s
—
a
nd some pitifully dated gowns as wel
l
—
a
nd enviable glittering earbobs.
Then suddenly, through the doorway of the card room, she spied none other than Lord Argyll. As if she'd called his name, he caught her gaze and smiled warmly. A nervous flutter battered about Jenny's insides as she watched him turn and walk toward them.
But then, her party entered the ballroom, and he was gone from her sight.
Huge glittering crystal chandeliers, the like Jenny had never seen or even imagined, dominated the ballroom.
My word.
She gulped down the swell of emotion rising in her throat as her eyes began to sting with tears. /
am standing in a real ballroom.
She looked over her shoulder as they moved deeper into the assembly room
,
and noticed that over the doorway was a wide balcony set into the wall, and in it eleven musicians overlooked the massive ballroom. Around the perimeter were two rows of cushioned settees filled with older madams and gents, while stretches of wooden benches provided respite for giggling young ladies and their beaus.
Yards of pale blue and silver silk swathes were
36
draped from the ceilings and across the high narrow windows, making her fee
l
as though she were in a magical land where anything was possible.
But for her, it already seemed as if anything was. For she was standing in the ballroom of the Upper Assembly Rooms, waiting for a handsome viscount to lead her in dance.
Lady Viola released her arm at last, and Jenny began to turn in a circle to take in the stunning grandeur of the ballroom, when suddenly she felt her hand brush something warm and furry. In her confusion, her fingers, of their own accord, instinctively gripped and prodded the fur.
She whirled around completely and found herself facing Lord Argyll, who was dressed most handsomely, but very unfas
h
ionably, in a coat, kilt, an
d
—
oh, heavens
—
a
blasted fur sporran that hung centered over hi
s
—
no, it ca
n
't be.
No.
Please, someone tell me I didn't just brush my hand over his sporran. Over hi
s
—
Heat filled Jenny's cheeks and she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Good eve, Lady Genevieve." And then he leaned close and his deep voice buzzed in her ear. "Surpr
is
in' how soft badger can be, aye?"
Chapter
Three
How mortifying! Had anyone seen what she had done? Seen her grip his . . .
sporran?
"Oh, Lord Argyll," Lady Letitia twittered. "How lovely that you found us."
Jenny felt a row of bony fingers on her upper arm, holding her in place and preventing her from dashing from the ballroom. "Why, Lady Genevieve was just commenting on how much she would desire to dance and here you are. How fortuitous."
The Scotsman arched a dark brow. "I've never been one for proper dancin', but fer ye, Lady Genevieve, I would be pleased to make an exception." He offered up his muscular arm and without thinking, Jenny instinctively took it.
Blast!
What was she doing?
Surely I will be found out the moment the music begins.
But then, the violinist set free his song and to Jenny's delight, couples took to the floor for a country dance. Why, glory be, she actually knew this one!
Jenny beamed at Lord Argyll, then turned as they waited for the right count to begin and let her eye wander the great room.
38
Heavens.
Was it her imagination, or was every high-browed eye focused on her?
She tried to follow the visual path of one particularly bug-eyed miss. Why, it almost looked like the chit was gazing at Lord Argyl
l
—
a
nd not at her at all.
Jenny glanced appraisingly at her dance partner. Oh ... of course! Everyone was likely focusing on Argyll's shocking kilt.
And then the viscount took her hands and drew her forward down the line. Together they whirled in a circle, sending her hem, and heaven forbid,
his
as well, flaring up behind them.