Secrets and Lords

Edie nodded, wanting to be anywhere but this place, with all these eyes upon her.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, then. First-night nerves. You know all about them, don’t you, mama?’ The way he said this, with a sneer, to Lady Deverell made Edie gasp, and she was not alone.

‘Charles!’ Lord Deverell reproved his son.

‘Sorry, did I speak out of turn?’ He sat back, dabbing his napkin at his lips with an insolent air.

Lady Deverell was flushed but it only made her more beautiful. She levelled a combative stare at Sir Charles and shook her head.

For a moment there was silence while stepmother and stepson locked everybody else in the room out of their mutual tension, then somebody complimented the soup and everybody rushed to agree.

Edie, for the moment, was forgotten, and she melted back into her place with gratitude, waiting for the first course to be finished.

The fever that had affected her on her first sighting of Lady Deverell eventually wore off and Edie was a better mistress of herself when called upon to serve the other courses. She was thankful to be at the end of the table furthest from the family, able to watch them without having to get too near.

Lady Mary sulked about coming back from the London season too early and missing the best closing balls, while Lord Deverell heavy-handedly reminded her that there was a good reason for that, which made her sulk all the more.

Edie exchanged a look with Jenny that asked, ‘What reason?’ Jenny responded with a tiny shrug.

Conversation was far from lively. Sir Charles occasionally attempted to stir things up with a sly barb or two, but nobody seemed to be in sufficient spirits to react in the way he wanted. Sir Thomas barely spoke at all, glaring down at his plate as if he saw the face of a mortal enemy in it.

Edie was lulled by the low murmurs, the scraping of knives and forks on fine china, the low light and the ambient warmth into a kind of daze. Her legs and feet ached and her head was so fuzzy now. She had been awake since five o’clock in the morning and she had walked as many miles inside the house as she had outside it.

Could they not just finish their meal quickly and let her go to bed?

Through half-shut eyes, she saw the red-gold glow of Lady Deverell and the gleam of Sir Charles’s teeth, dangerously bared. Points of light from various gems danced across the walls and ceilings behind them. The wallpaper pattern was a repetitive curl of red and gold, a curiously soothing thing to look at. She fixed her attention on it, lulled, comforted. She leant back against the door jamb, feeling her legs twitch a little and then …

A kick on her shin.

‘Keep upright,’ hissed Jenny.

She had been on the point of falling asleep where she stood, like a horse. How did anyone live this life without doing so all the time? And this was only her first day.

Somehow she dragged her body through pudding, but it was still another half-hour before the ladies retired to the drawing room.

She swooped forwards to take the dishes downstairs for the last time. Gathering the last of them up, she made the mistake of looking again at Sir Charles, who was smiling at her as he poured himself a brandy. The smile struck Edie as predatory and she made a hasty escape to the kitchen, feeling like one of the grouse they had spoken of shooting at.

‘Told you,’ said Jenny at the bottom of the staircase. ‘He’s got an eye for you already. Watch yourself, girl.’

‘I don’t want to watch anything,’ said Edie, stacking the dishes up by the sink, thanking her lucky stars that she wouldn’t be washing them. ‘I want to shut my eyes and fall into my bed.’

‘Aren’t you coming for a game of cards in the kitchen?’

‘I simply can’t. I’m half asleep already.’

‘Fair enough. Sweet dreams, then. I hope they won’t be of him. I don’t want to see you go Susie’s way.’

‘I won’t.’

* * *

Edie’s dreams were of nothing, or, if they had substance, it soon melted from her memory. Her first consciousness was of a foreign place, a bed too hard, a pillow too flat, and a peculiar smell of other bodies and their exhalations.

She was the only one abed. The other three girls were dressing already, yawning and tying each other’s apron laces.

The rain still beat dully against the little square-paned window and somebody had thought to light a candle, even though the summer dawn had broken half an hour since.

Edie had never risen this early, save on a handful of special occasions, and she bitterly resented having to leave the warmth of her bed to engage in a day of more hard and mystifying work.

The girls seemed disinclined to talk, going about their morning ablutions in pale-faced trances. The memory of Charles and Lady Deverell at last night’s dinner hit Edie once more – a big, nauseating blow. Why had she been so stupid as to get herself noticed? All she had had to do was serve some soup, for heaven’s sake.

‘How was the bed? Could you sleep in it?’ asked Jenny, coming up behind Edie as she brushed her hair, having waited patiently for the use of the room’s only mirror.

‘Oh, it was a little narrow, but comfortable enough,’ she said vaguely.

‘I was so pleased to have a bed to meself, I never worried about its being narrow,’ confided Jenny. ‘Had to share with two sisters back at home. Have you got brothers or sisters?’

‘None.’

‘You won’t be missing them, then. Is your ma and pa alive?’

‘I live with my father. Lived,’ she corrected.

‘He’ll feel your absence, then. Only child gone away from home.’

She pursed her lips sympathetically. Edie, feeling underhanded and low for garnering the girl’s simple compassion, merely smiled tightly and put the brush down.

‘Could you arrange my hair? I have no skill for it myself.’

‘You’ll have to get it,’ said Jenny with a laugh. ‘Heavens, you need to be able to do these things. You’ll never rise to lady’s maid if you can’t fix hair.’

‘You’re quite right. I wonder, Jenny, would you let me practise on you sometimes?’

‘If you like.’

There was a silence while Jenny’s fingers worked deftly on Edie’s heavy auburn hair.

‘You’ve got such a lovely lot of it,’ she said, fixing the cap on top with a quantity of pins. ‘It’s just like Lady Deverell’s – that glorious colour too. I’ve always longed to be her maid and get my hands on those locks. I can play with yours instead now.’

Edie laughed. ‘I’ve been told I have a look of her sometimes. Do you think so?’

Jenny narrowed her eyes, looking over Edie’s shoulder into the mirror.

‘The hair, yes. The eyes, no. Hers are blue, yours are brown. And your nose is completely different … but I think in the shape of the face … Well, let’s say I wouldn’t get you mixed up from the front, but I might from behind, if your hair was down.’

‘There are many worse people to resemble,’ said Edie.