Fallen Grace - Mary Hooper [37]
There was something ungainly about her: her feet stuck out at angles, like a duck’s, her aimless expression and her dark auburn hair – despite being washed three times and having had a comb dragged through it – still a mess of strands and knots. The colour of Miss Charlotte’s cast-off gown did not suit her, either, its pastel green seeming to emphasise the shining hue of Lily’s face, which – due to the strong carbolic soap used at the baths – had unfortunately come up the colour of a pillar box. Nevertheless, on the ringing of the drawing-room bell for tea, Mrs Beaman equipped her with a white apron and a tray of silver tea things and led the way into the drawing room to introduce her to Miss Charlotte Unwin.
Miss Charlotte was sixteen years old and, having always lived a life of luxury, comfort and plenty, had the glowing skin, bright eyes and abundance of thick golden hair to prove it. She also had a personal dressmaker, a wardrobe of the very latest gowns and every little frou-frou novelty to which a fashionable young lady in the year of 1861 might be entitled. She was very much looking forward to the following year when she would ‘come out’ in society and be presented to Queen Victoria, for then would follow a whole season of dances, hunt balls and lavish dinners at which (she felt sure) she would be the glittering centre of attention. Her mother had promised her a lady’s maid of her own for this period and she was happily anticipating some smart young woman who would not only be capable of dressing her hair in ringlets and repairing a lace collar, but also know which tiara should be worn on which occasion.
Sadly, Lily was not that young woman.
‘Miss Charlotte,’ said Mrs Beaman, not without a little well-concealed delight, ‘may I present Lily?’
She indicated to Lily that she was to put the tea things down on the nearest table, but Lily was staring about with her mouth agape, her eyes swivelling around the room as she took in the windows, the walls, the floor and the furniture with gasps of pleasure and amazement. On the mantelpiece, she suddenly spotted a jug painted with the familiar bluebirds, and crashing the tea things down on the table, she hobbled painfully (Mrs Beaman’s shoes were too small) towards it.
‘This is like the teapot Mama had!’ she said. She excitedly scratched the flea bites along her arms. ‘Did you get it from Uncle’s?’
Miss Charlotte stared at her with astonishment. It was as if, Mrs Beaman was to report later, she had witnessed a unicorn entering the drawing room to serve cucumber sandwiches.
‘Grace had to pawn our teapot – she got a shilling for it,’ Lily said, beaming at Miss Charlotte. She picked up the jug and, moving swiftly to prevent a possible catastrophe, Mrs Beaman rounded the sofa and took it from her. ‘Do you go to Uncle’s often?’ she asked Miss Charlotte.
‘Mrs Beaman, who is this person?’ Charlotte asked faintly.
Mrs Beaman couldn’t reply for a while, for she was dodging around and about behind Lily, taking from her whatever she picked up and trying to move between her and the most delicate items. Finally, as Lily stopped and stroked the heavy velvet curtains as if they were the pelt of an animal, she managed to say, ‘Lily is new to the household, miss. She’s just been taken on by your father and mother.’
‘I can hardly believe it. What as?’
‘As, I believe, a lady’s maid.’
‘Who on earth for?’
Mrs Beaman coughed delicately. ‘For yourself, Miss Charlotte.’
Charlotte Unwin let out a little scream of horror which was heard by her mother and father, who had just arrived home. Striding into the parlour and quickly sizing up the situation, Mr Unwin told Lily to go back into the kitchen immediately. She did so, giving him a beaming smile and taking a spiced biscuit from the tray.
Mr Unwin gestured for the cook to stay and, while Mrs Unwin was soothing Charlotte, reached into his inside pocket to pull out a ten-shilling note. ‘Mrs Beaman, I