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By Root 671 0

cup. Her gown and underskirts have been newly pressed, and we begin the laborious process of removing her nightclothes and putting them on, taking extra care not to disturb her makeup or hair. First I carefully slip her best chemise over her head. It is finely spun of bleached white linen and will protect her elaborate outerwear from bodily secretions. Then comes a flannel petticoat for warmth, as she is bone-thin with age and suffers acutely from cold in winter. Her corset is extra-fine, made of satin and linen with whalebone stays and a long central pocket into which I insert an ivory busk. Her body stiffens as I do so, and she draws in a breath at the effort of remaining erect. The corset is cut long, as is the current fashion, and has little loops at the bottom that will hold her farthingale in place. She prefers a French farthingale to the Spanish type; it too is made with whalebones, the skirt falling in a dramatic A from her hips. Finally I attach the bumroll just above her hips. Hers is larger and more pronounced than my own, and dwarfs her measurements, but the effect pleases her. My mother has no time for such accoutrements, and is forever lecturing those in confinement to abandon them.

Next my mistress dons her partlet and kirtle, the latter with an elaborately embroidered front section to match the bodice of her gown. The gown itself is made of ivory-colored silk and is ornately beaded and decorated in a floral pattern. She has worn it only twice before: once to a ball on a nearby estate and once when she traveled to view a royal progress. The sleeves are full and trimmed with exquisite French lace at the cuffs, so delicate it reminds me of spun sugar. She has chosen an uncharacteristically simple ivory brooch with matching earrings, a wedding present from her husband. I suspect its selection is due more to piety than fond remembrance. Finally I attach the ruff, an elaborate cloudy concoction that rises from the point of each shoulder and arcs across her back, towering well above her ears. Once it is in place we both draw a breath in admiration. The effect is indeed regal, and I can see from her demeanor that it pleases her. I glance at the timepiece on her mantel; there are still thirty minutes before the painter is due to arrive. She raises one hand as if to rise and I grasp it firmly in order to assist her. She stands and once again admires her reflection, then suggests that we take a turn about the house. It is a somewhat ludicrous notion, as there is no one but servants about, and this the likes of Little George and foolish Alice. But she is not to be deterred, and so I take her arm to steady her, and we begin our little progress.

We go first to the kitchen, so she can instruct Cook about the midday meal. This is entirely unnecessary, as Cook has complete run of the kitchen and takes orders from no one, and anyway my mistress has no interest in culinary matters, but we both know it is the hub of the house. When we enter Little George is duly turning meat and Cook is patting out some pastry for a pie. Both freeze at the sight of her, Little George’s jaw dropping slightly and his eyebrows arched in wonder. Cook misses only a beat, then clears her throat, nods a greeting, and carries on with her work. Just then Alice and Lydia enter through the rear door, Alice’s hands filled with kindling from the yard and Lydia carrying an iron cauldron of water for the fire. Alice gives a squeal of appreciation, which draws a sharp glance of admonishment from Cook, and Lydia nearly stumbles in surprise, then excuses herself with a little curtsy of embarrassment. My mistress nods to them all and briefly addresses Cook, making up some nonsense about yesterday’s soup and its disagreeable impact on her constitution, which registers like a dark cloud on Cook’s visage. We then remove ourselves, leaving Little George bewildered and Alice wide-eyed with appreciation, and Cook predictably out of humor.

From there we proceed to the library where my master is immersed in his books. I have no wish to see him after yesterday, but