Read The Magnificent Masquerade Online
Authors: Elizabeth Mansfield
Chapter Eight
Kitty appeared at Emily's door twenty minutes
later in full housemaid regalia. Her hair was pulled tightly back and braided
in one firm plait, her head was topped with the frilled cap, and all the rest
of her was clothed in a black bombazine dress trimmed with the primmest white
collar and cuffs and covered by the most stiffly starched apron either of them
had ever seen. Emily gaped at her for a moment and then burst into laughter.
"Oh, it's you, Miss Jessup," she managed to say between giggles.
"I almost didn't recognize you!" "Hush! Do you want someone to
hear?" Kitty hissed, closing the door quickly. "1 told you never to
call me that! I'm Emily, remember!"
"I'm sorry, miss. It's not easy to change
the habits of one's lifetime."
"I know," Kitty agreed ruefully.
"I almost found myself dressing down the butler."
"Really?" Emily's dimpled smile
appeared again. "What did you say to him?"
"I started out by asking him-in my best
lady-of-the-manor voice, mind you!-if he was always so rude to guests, but he
quickly put me in my place, saying in the most pompous way imaginable, “Since
when, young woman, is an abigail to be considered a guest?"' Kitty
imitated his nasal intonations to perfection and even aped his manner of turning
up his doleful eyes to the heavens.
Emily collapsed in laughter on the bed, and
Kitty joined in, perching on the edge. But she recovered herself quickly,
realizing that they didn't have much time. "Really, Emily," she said,
turning serious, "whatever possessed you to spend the afternoon making
tisanes? You've got to learn to stop doing for people."
"Was it wrong of me to do so?" Emily
asked, her elongated dimples disappearing with her smile. "It took only a
few moments, and when Alicia began to feel better, Lady Edith was so
grateful."
"Was she? Then you must be playing your
part very well." Kitty eyed her with a touch of envy. "And a great
deal better than I am."
Emily shook her head. "I don't know, Miss
Jessup. Lady Edith seems pleased with me, and her daughter, too, but his
lordship has several times stared at me with a puzzled expression, and he's
remarked more than once that I am not quite what he expected."
"Oh, no, has he really?" Kitty got up
and began to pace about worriedly. "Did he say in what way?"
"Not exactly. Though he did tell his
mother before we arrived that he expected you ... me ... you to be
hoydenish."
"Hoydenish?" Kitty stopped in her
tracks. "He called me hoydenish?" Her cheeks reddened angrily.
"What effrontery! Whatever gave him that idea?"
A bit of dimple showed itself in Emily's
cheeks. "I can't imagine," she said almost seriously.
Kitty caught the glint in the other girl's
brown eyes and instantly realized how foolish she'd sounded. Her anger subsided
at once. "Very well, I am hoydenish," she admitted with a -sheepish
grin. "I admit it. But I don't see how it's become known to the world at
large. I suppose my father told him so."
"Probably so," Emily agreed.
"Well, never mind. You'll show him that
Kitty Jessup can behave like the most ladylike creature in the world. Come,
let's get you dressed for dinner."
Emily obligingly shed herself of her traveling
dress while Kitty, in proper abigail manner, undid the buttons of the gown
she'd laid out and helped Emily into it. However, when Emily remarked that Toby
Wishart was expected to arrive for dinner, Kitty promptly raised it up again
and pulled it over Emily's head. "In that case, you must wear something
more enticing. Here. Let's try the lavender crepe with the silver threads. That
should catch his eye."
Emily complied, but she didn't understand
Kitty's motives. "Why should I be enticing?" she asked. "You
don't want him to like me, do you?"
"Why not?" She led Emily to the
dressing table and began to brush her hair. "The more he likes you, the
less likely he is to like me when the truth of my. identity is finally
revealed. Oh, dear, I'm all thumbs at this. You'd better do your own hair.
You're so much handier than 1."
Emily took the brush. "You did your braid
very well. I don't think I could have done it better."
Kitty shrugged. "Mrs. Prowne plaited it.
She's the housekeeper, you see, and she was given the task of turning me out.
But I'm sure she'll expect me to braid it myself tomorrow, and you know what a
botch I'll make of it then. However, we can't concern ourselves with that now.
Here, I'll pin the bun for you. There, that's lovely. Just let the curl hang
over your shoulder, so. Good. Now stand up and let me adjust the neck line of
your gown. I think you should show a great deal of decolletage, don't
you?" And she proceeded to pull the neckline down so that the upper curves
of Emily's breasts were visible. Then she carefully pinned the decolletage in
place with pins that Emily supplied.
By the time all was done, the hour was quite advanced.
Emily nervously remarked that the entire household might already be awaiting
her arrival downstairs. "I'd better go. Do I look presentable?"
Kitty studied her carefully. "Yes, I think
you look-oh, no!"
Emily blanched. "What is it?"
"Your boots! You can't wear those dreadful
boots with an evening dress. Quickly, take them off. Where are my black
slippers? Did I put them in the cupboard there?" She rummaged through the
shelves wildly, tossing things about in careless haste. "If I can only find
them, we can stuff the toes with a couple of handkerchiefs and they'll do well
enough. Now, where-?"
But it was Emily who found them, and it was
Emily who found the handkerchiefs, too. At last she was ready. But she couldn't
bring herself to go. The room was terribly untidy, and she'd been trained not
to ignore dishevelment. "I'd better do something about this jumble,"
she said, looking about her un easily.
"Don't be silly. Get along with you,"
Kitty urged.
"I suppose I'd better. I'll put things
back in place when I return."
"You'll do nothing of the kind, Miss
Jessup," Kitty declared. "Who's the abigail here?"
Emily didn't argue. If she had to play her
role, it was only fair that Kitty play hers. And keeping the room neat was part
of Kitty's role. "Very well," Emily said, "I'll go. There's only
one thing more I'd like to do." And she turned to the tall mirror that
stood in the comer. She hadn't had time before, but surely she could take a
moment now, she decided, to take one quick glimpse.
She looked into the mirror and gasped. Surely,
she thought, the creature in the glass was someone else entirely. The silky
dress with its silvery threads sparkling amid the lavender clung to a form that
appeared to her to be more mature and shapely than her own. Her hair glowed
with auburn highlights that she'd never noticed before. And her cheeks, which
had always seemed to her to be too full and pasty-pale to be pretty, now glowed
pink with excitement. But what really reddened them was the sight of her
half-exposed bosom. "Goodness, Miss Jessup, you can't mean me to appear so
... so naked!" she exclaimed.
"You look breathtaking," Kitty
insisted. "And dash it all, stop calling me Miss Jessup!"
"But I thought you wanted me to be
ladylike," Emily objected, tugging embarrassedly at the neckline.
Kitty thrust her hands away. "I do want
you to be ladylike. Ladylike, not prudish." She surveyed her handiwork one
last time. "You look absolutely splendid. Don't be goosish, just go."
And she took Emily by the shoulders and thrust her out the door.
Emily hurried down the staircase, fearing with
every step that she'd trip over the extended toes of the ill-fitting slippers.
But no such accident occurred. She made the last turn of the stairs with a sigh
of relief.
At the bottom of the stairway she found two
footmen awaiting her. "This way, miss," one of them said and led her
toward the drawing room.
"Has everyone come down already?" she
asked as she hurried after him.
"I believe so, miss," was the
impassive answer.
They arrived at the drawing room door. She
could hear voices within, and as the footman was about to throw open the doors,
she heard a burst of masculine laughter. For some unfathomable reason, that
sound caused her courage to fail her. "Wait!" she ordered the
footman. "Wait just a moment."
"Wait, miss?" He eyed her with a
tinge of surprise. "Yes. Just a moment." She turned her back on him,
looked down at her exposed chest, and flinched. Quickly, and as surreptitiously
as the situation allowed, she removed the pins from the decolletage. She
returned the neckline to its normal, modest position, tugged the shoulders of
the gown in place, and turned back. "Here," she said to the footman
in as imperious a tone as she could muster (hoping that her toplofty man ner
would mask her discomfiture), "get rid of these pins for me."
The footman blinked. "Pins, miss?"
"Yes, pins. Have you never seen pins
before?" And with a toss of her head, she grasped his hand, opened his
gloved fingers, and dropped the pins into his palm. Then she gave a last pat to
her hair. "There, now," she announced, turning to face the doors,
"I'm ready."
Chapter Nine
"Ah, there you are," Lady Edith
clarioned, crossing the room and kissing Emily's cheek. "You've only just
enough time before dinner to meet Toby and drink your sherry."
"What Mama means," laughed a
good-looking young man, rising from a chair at Emily's left, "is that
you're tardy but not so late as to need to beg forgiveness."
"Oh, dear," murmured Emily, looking
about her in confusion, "am I late?"
"Not at all," said Lord Edgerton,
also rising to greet her. "You are as punctual as a lovely young woman can
be expected to be. My brother, who has just arrived six hours later than he
should have, is a fine one to be lecturing on punctuality." He struck the
boy lightly on the shoulder. "Come and make a leg to Miss Jessup, you
mooncalf. Miss Jessup, may I present my brother, Toby Wishart?"
The young man made a deep, wide-armed bow and
grinned up at her. "Your servant, miss."
Emily felt herself flush without understanding
why. The young man's extravagant bow was obviously a teasing response to his
brother's formality, but there was no reason for her to feel embarrassed by it.
As she bent her knees in a responding curtsey, she studied the young man
carefully. He was certainly attractive. Shorter than his brother, he was
nevertheless quite broad-shouldered and manly. His dark eyes glinted with
humor, his large mouth seemed to twist naturally in a warm smile, and his head
was covered with a richness of tight, dark curls. Emily couldn't help thinking
that Kitty Jessup-as soon as she set eyes on him-would regret what she'd done.
But, for now at least, there was nothing Emily could do but continue to play
the game. "How d-do you do, my lord," she said shyly.
"I shall do better with one more
sherry," the young man said, turning to the footman who was hovering about
behind him, plucking two glasses from the tray and offering one to her.
"That, at least, was nicely done,"
his brother muttered in his ear. Then, taking Emily by the arm, Edgerton led
her across the room. "I hope you noticed, my dear," he said to her
admiringly, "that your medicinal talents have had a beneficial effect on
my sister. Here she is, fully dressed and with an appetite for dinner."
He led her to the armchair where Alicia, a
pale, very thin woman of thirty years. sat huddled in a shawl. Though Emily had
met her earlier, she hadn't been able to see her properly, for at that time
Alicia had been covered to the neck by blankets. Now that she was able to take
a good look at her, Emily couldn't help thinking that the little girls of Miss
Marchmont's lower school would find Alicia the embodiment of their image of a
spinster. Her posture was hunched, her fingers long and bony, her lips thin,
and her hair (a nondescript brown) was tied back in so tight a bun that not a
curl or tendril was permitted to escape to soften the gray planes of her face.
In addition, she'd chosen a dress of so drab a puce that it emphasized her
colorlessness. Nevertheless, as soon as Emily came up to her, Alicia managed a
smile. "I must thank you again, Miss
Jessup, for what you did for me this afternoon.
Dr. Randolph stopped in to see me earlier this evening and was quite astonished
at my improvement."
It amazed Emily to see how much that smile
warmed Alicia's expression. "I'm so glad," she responded, sitting
down on a hassock beside Alicia's armchair. "I'll tell Miss Marchmont,
when I get back to the academy ... that is, I mean, when I next pay her a visit
... that her licorice tisane is every bit as efficacious as she believes."
"Good God, we're not going to sit about
here in the drawing room talking about tisanes, are we?" Toby asked,
downing his drink.
"No, we're not," Edgerton said, throwing
his brother a took that warned him he was verging on rudeness. "Here's
Naismith to announce dinner. Mama, let me have your arm. Toby, I shall give to
you the honor of escorting both your sister and our lovely guest to the table.
Now, shall we go?"
The dinner was served at a table long enough
for at least a dozen diners. With Edgerton at the head and Lady Edith at the
foot, Emily, Toby, and Alicia were seated quite far apart. Thus it was almost
impossible for conversation to be intimate. For a while, nothing was said
except about the food. Lady Edith admired the fish soup, explaining to her
guest that it had been "prepared a la Russe, you see, Miss Jessup, to give
it that distinctive flavor."
Alicia complained that the creamed soup was too
rich for her delicate stomach. Lord Edgerton put in a good word about the veal
filets. Emily said flattering things about everything that was put before her
but was too nervous to eat very much of anything.