The Ivory Rose (15 page)

‘You’re to go with Miss Rutherford and Miss Georgiana to church this morning,’ growled Agnes. ‘The mistress thinks Miss Georgiana is well enough to have a proper outing today. Make sure you wear clean collar and cuffs, and your Sunday bonnet. And be sure all your chores are done before you go, or you won’t be going out this afternoon.’

Jemma hurried through her tasks, careful to do them properly. She was sure it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for Agnes to ban her from an afternoon off.

Georgiana was excited about the prospect of an outing, hopping from foot to foot with impatience as Jemma struggled with the stays and fiddly buttons of her dress. Jemma laced the stays much looser than Agnes had shown her.

‘I feel so good, Jemma,’ Georgiana exclaimed. ‘I haven’t felt this well in weeks! You must be a tonic for me – I feel like I could climb a mountain or ride my pony or dance a jig.’
Jemma frowned as she tied up Georgiana’s blue satin ribbon.

‘It’s not good for you to be cooped up in your room all the time. That would make me feel sick and headachey, too. It’s really important for kids to get exercise.’

Georgiana twirled around, her white skirts flying out in a frilly spin.

‘Aunt Harriet believes in exercise, but she thinks young ladies should be marched briskly around the park by their nursemaids. She is always complaining that I’m too wild. She says
ladies
should be pale and genteel with faultless manners. But my mama always said that most
ladies
she knew were mindless and dull. Mama thought girls should be brought up to think and act for themselves.’

‘Absolutely,’ Jemma agreed. ‘How can she think you’re wild? She doesn’t let you do anything.’

Georgiana shrugged and wrinkled her nose. ‘Mama and Aunt Harriet didn’t really get on, even though they were sisters. Mama was the pretty one and the clever one and doted on by her papa. Aunt Harriet was the older sister – plain and respectable – always doing the correct thing and always overlooked.’

Jemma laughed. It was a good summation of Miss Harriet Rutherford.

‘You know, I think Aunt Harriet might even have been a little bit in love with my papa,’ confided Georgiana with a giggle. ‘She certainly seemed to dote on him when Mama died. Sometimes I wish Papa hadn’t brought Aunt Harriet to live with us. I was much happier with Miss Babot.’

Jemma gave Georgiana a quick squeeze. She felt so sorry for Georgiana.

‘Your mama was right,’ Jemma asserted. ‘Girls should be brought up to think and act for themselves. In my time, girls are taught they can do or be anything they set their minds to.’

Georgiana flashed Jemma a quick look. Jemma started brushing Georgiana’s hair quickly to cover her slip.

‘Tell me more about your mama,’ invited Jemma.

Georgiana smiled, her face alight with memories. ‘She had the most beautiful laugh. I loved watching her get ready to go to the theatre or parties. She had dark hair swept up in a chignon, with wayward curls that would always escape. I loved the scent of her fragrance when she would come to kiss me goodnight.’

Jemma thought of her own mother sitting in front of the dressing table, slipping in her earrings and spraying on her perfume. A glint of tears came to her eyes. Georgiana and Jemma smiled at each other.

‘She was a passionate letter-writer – always writing to the newspaper about women gaining the vote,’ continued Georgiana. ‘She thought it was a disgrace that women could not vote. She said women were treated as idiots or children by the law.

‘Mama had lots of ideas that Aunt Harriet thought were unwomanly. Mama didn’t agree with girls wearing stays – she thought it was bad for their health, and she believed strongly that girls need a good education so they can make their own way in the world.’

‘Your mama sounds a lot like my mum in many ways,’ Jemma said softly. ‘My mum believes that in life you should always aim for the moon – if you don’t quite make it, you’ll fall among stars.’

Georgiana shook her head, as though clearing her mind of these painful memories. ‘We must go down,’ she urged, immediately changing the subject. ‘Aunt Harriet will be cross if we keep her waiting. What are you going to do on your afternoon off?’

‘I’m going to Kentville with Ned,’ Jemma explained. ‘He said there’ll be a band and bowls and archery and skittles.’

‘Oh,’ sighed Georgiana, her eyes on the floor. ‘It would be lovely to walk in the grounds of Kentville again.’

‘I have an idea,’ crowed Jemma, her eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘You can come to Kentville with us. Pretend to go to your room for a nap and sneak down the backstairs to meet me.’

Georgiana’s eyes burnt with excitement. ‘Do you think I could?’ she begged. ‘Aunt Harriet would be
furious
if she found out!’

‘What is she going to do?’ insisted Jemma, handing Georgiana her bonnet. ‘Lock you in your room again? Besides, Doctor Anderson said it was good for you to get out and get some exercise and fresh air.’

Georgiana skipped to the door, her bonnet swinging by its ribbons.

The skip very quickly changed to a sedate step as she emerged into the hall to be met by Aunt Harriet approaching.

‘Are you ready, Georgiana dear?’ asked Miss Rutherford, scanning her niece’s appearance. ‘Put on your bonnet and gloves, please, and walk slowly. A lady should never scurry. You look quite well today, my dear. You look like you’ve put on some weight, and there is a bit of colour
in your cheeks. I do hope you are not coming down with a fever!’

Jemma had immediately stepped back, as instructed by Agnes, her eyes to the floor, trying to be invisible.

‘Fetch Miss Georgiana a rug for the carriage,’ ordered Miss Rutherford. ‘I do not wish her to catch a chill.’

Jemma thought of the warm spring sunshine outside but hurried to do as she was bid.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ she replied, trying to curtsey and hurry backwards into Georgiana’s room at the same time. Jemma nearly fell over her own feet.

Jemma went out the back door to the carriage, while Miss Rutherford and Georgiana went out the front. Jemma smiled at Ned, who was holding the reins of Butterscotch and Sugar, as she clambered into the carriage. He climbed up onto his seat, clicked to the horses and the carriage rumbled out the back gate, into the laneway and around the block to pick up his remaining passengers from the front gate.

It was a short drive to the Hunter Baillie Memorial Church. Crowds of horsedrawn carriages, sulkies and buggies lined Johnston Street.

People milled around, dressed in their Sunday best – men in top hats and suits, women in billowing, long dresses and vast hats or tidy bonnets. Mangy, mongrel dogs sniffed around the outskirts of the throng, hoping to find scraps.

First the huge feathered hat, then Miss Rutherford, alighted from the carriage, followed by Georgiana and Jemma. Ned stood by to help the ladies down the steps, top hat under his arm, his demeanour serious and respectful. He winked at Jemma, spoiling the illusion and making her giggle.

A few ladies, including Mrs McKenzie, were standing nearby and they turned to welcome Miss Rutherford and Georgiana. Jemma stood invisibly behind.

‘What a lovely surprise,’ cried Mrs McKenzie, embracing Georgiana. ‘Georgiana, it is so wonderful to see you up and about again. But look how pale and thin you are!’

Mrs McKenzie turned to Miss Rutherford and took her gloved hand sympathetically.

‘And Harriet, how are you bearing up? You look quite wrung out. You must not wear yourself out looking after Georgiana.’

It’s me who’s wrung out looking after Georgiana!
thought Jemma.
All Miss Rutherford seems to do all day is write letters, visit her friends and change outfits for the poor servants to wash and iron!

Miss Rutherford smiled bravely and shook her head, making her feathers joggle.

One of the other women hugged Georgiana and asked her questions about her health. Mrs McKenzie took the opportunity to draw Miss Rutherford aside. Jemma inched closer.

‘Oh, Harriet,’ mumured Mrs McKenzie, her voice trembling with concern. ‘I cannot believe the change in Georgiana these last few weeks. She has lost so much weight and looks so pallid. Whatever can be the matter with her? She was such a pretty, vibrant child. Now she’s just fading away.’

Miss Rutherford put her gloved hand up to her mouth, obviously distressed.

‘Why Isabella, I thought she was looking a little better today?’ protested Miss Rutherford. ‘I wouldn’t have
brought her out if I thought she was still ill. Perhaps I should ask Edward to take her home?’

‘No, no,’ Mrs McKenzie reassured her. ‘It will do her good to have a little fresh air and an outing. It was just a shock to see how much she’s changed.’

The church bells pealed and the two women moved away towards the church door, arm in arm.

Jemma felt her unease stirring. Mrs McKenzie was obviously disturbed by Georgiana’s appearance. Perhaps Georgiana had been sicker than she’d thought.

‘Are you feeling all right, Georgie?’ whispered Jemma, coming up behind her. Georgiana turned around and smiled reassuringly.

‘I feel fine, truly. I cannot wait for this afternoon when we go out to Kentville.’

Agnes was fastening her bonnet over her frilly white cap, a large black shawl around her wide shoulders.

‘Be sure you give Miss Georgiana her medicine before you go out,’ ordered Agnes, picking up her basket. ‘And be sure you are back here in time to take up Miss Georgiana’s supper.’

Jemma nodded, trying to look as innocent as possible.

‘And wipe that smirk off your face,’ snarled Agnes. ‘You look like the cat that’s eyeing off the cream.’

Jemma peeked out the scullery window to make sure Agnes had left out the back gate. She could see Ned out by the stables, whistling as he locked up the carriage house. Merlin lay basking in the sun, his tail curled like a comma.
Connie had already left before lunch for the long walk to visit her family.

Jemma tipped the glass containing Georgiana’s medicine down the sink and raced up the backstairs to Georgiana’s room, carrying the empty glass.

‘Come on, Georgie,’ she hissed. ‘They’ve gone.’

‘My aunt?’ asked Georgiana, her face creased with concern.

‘Reading in the small sitting room,’ Jemma confirmed.

Jemma and Georgiana fashioned a small body in the bed out of cushions and a rolled-up blanket. Jemma placed Georgiana’s china doll under the blankets, artfully arranging the long, brown curls over the starched pillowcase, topping it with Georgiana’s frilled nightcap. She placed the empty medicine glass on the bedside chest.

Then Jemma helped Georgiana change into one of her own black servant’s dresses, with its white collar and cuffs. They pulled Georgiana’s hair into a bun, instead of its customary long style, and tucked it under a straw hat. Georgiana looked older with her long, dark skirts and pinned-up hair. She looked like any one of the many maidservants whom Jemma had seen walking in Annandale.

Georgiana jiggled with excitement.

‘Perfect,’ crowed Jemma. ‘Let’s go.’

The girls slipped from Georgiana’s room, tiptoeing along the hall and down the backstairs. They were just creeping through the kitchen when they both heard the sound of quick, light footsteps coming from the other side of the door.

‘Quick!’ hissed Jemma. ‘Hide.’

Jemma flung open the door down to the coal cellar and urged Georgiana to duck inside. Jemma shut the cellar door
behind her and raced to the stove, busying herself with the kettle.

Miss Rutherford swung the other door open and stepped into the kitchen. Jemma slowed her breathing and willed herself to look calm and innocent.

‘Oh, Jemima, you’re still here?’ asked Miss Rutherford. ‘I thought all the servants had gone out for the afternoon. I’ve just come to take Miss Georgiana her medicine. I thought her outing this morning would have tired her dreadfully.’

Jemma smiled brightly, bobbing her head in a quick curtsey. ‘Agnes told me to take up Miss Georgiana’s medicine and prepare her for her nap before I went out,’ she explained, gesturing to the medicine bottle, which was still on the kitchen table. ‘She looks like she will sleep for hours.’

Miss Rutherford picked up the medicine bottle and held it up to the light to see how much was left. She put it back on the table and smiled.

‘Well, she deserves a good sleep, the poor little lamb,’ agreed Miss Rutherford. ‘I hope I did not overtax her strength by taking her to church this morning.’

A loud clang sounded from the coal cellar below. Jemma’s heart leapt to her mouth.

‘What was that?’ begged Miss Rutherford, heading briskly to the cellar door.

Jemma rushed forward. ‘Oh, just Connie fetching more coal for the stove. Would you like me to bring you a cup of tea before I go out?’

Miss Rutherford smiled. ‘That’s very kind of you, Jemima, but no,’ she replied, patting her on the arm. ‘You run along and enjoy yourself.’

Jemma breathed a huge sigh as Miss Rutherford left the kitchen for the front of the house. She listened carefully to make sure her mistress was safely settled in the small sitting room before calling softly to Georgiana.

Georgiana hobbled up the stairs, a black streak of coal dust on her cheek. ‘I tripped over the coal scuttle,’ she explained ruefully, rubbing her shin.