Snobbery With Violence - M. C. Beaton [26]
The countess poked her ankles out from beneath the gown and studied them complacently. “Very good, Daisy. But you cannot be called Daisy and you cannot be called Levine because it sounds foreign. You will be called Baxter.”
“That means you can go,” said Rose when Daisy told her. “But I shall not call you Baxter.
“I have made an enemy of Humphrey,” said Daisy. “What if she finds out you did all the sewing yourself?”
“There is no need for her to find out. We have been spending too much time over our books and typing lessons, Daisy. Now you must learn the ways of the lady’s maid. When we get to Hedley’s, you will dine with the housekeeper. Your behaviour must be precise. I allow you too much laxity. While we are at the Hedleys’, you never sit down in my presence or wear a hat in the house. You do not venture an opinion, unless asked for it. And you never even say ‘Good morning’ or ‘Good night.’ We have a little time to bring you up to the mark.
“I prefer to dress and undress myself now that Yardley is leaving. But this you must never tell a soul or I shall be damned as middle-class. The lady’s maid I had before Yardley left a notebook. I shall find it for you. In it she has written all the recipes for cleaning clothes, hats and shoes. The wash for my hair is quite simple. One pennyworth of borax, half a pint of olive oil and a pint of boiling water.”
She studied Daisy for a moment and then asked, “Do you not find your life here dull?”
“Oh, no, my lady. I like dull. I can’t get enough of dull. And three good meals a day!”
“Very well, Daisy. There is one thing more. I have over-prided myself on my intelligence but I lack common sense. I made a bad mistake with Blandon.”
“I’ll tip you off if there’s another masher,” said Daisy eagerly. “Can tell ‘em a mile off.”
FIVE
O blind your eyes and break your heart and hack your hand away, And lose your love and shave your head; but do not go to stay At the little place in Whafsitsname where folks are rich and clever; The golden and the goodly house, where things grow worse for ever; There are things you need not know of though you live and die in vain, There are souls more sick of pleasure than you are sick of pain
-G. K. CHESTERTON, THE ARISTOCRAT
Rose began to feel apprehensive as her father’s coach bowled along the country roads towards Telby Castle, home of the Marquess of Hedley. Would the other guests shun her? If they do, she thought fiercely, then Daisy and I will simply pack up and go home. There had been no need to buy new clothes for the visit. Lady Polly had pointed out to her daughter that a fortune had already been spent on dresses for the season.
The sky was a clear hard blue and there was a chill in the air. The leaves on the trees were blazing with autumn colours.
A new beginning, thought Rose. Perhaps this is a new beginning. And if not, well, there were jobs in London for women who knew how to type. There were lodging houses for businesswomen at reasonable rates. Whatever happened, she was resolved not to rot in the country for the rest of her life.
She was wearing one of the new corselets which had very slight boning, and had left off the usual padding. She had covered her gown with a heavy cloak before making her goodbyes to her mother, knowing that Lady Polly would have been appalled to learn that her daughter was not steel-corseted into the fashionable hourglass figure and leaning-forward look.
Under her tailored travelling dress she was wearing a silk petticoat with a frou-frou of ruffles from the knee to the hem. Rose, who had considered her mind above fripperies, nonetheless enjoyed the swishing rustling sound the petticoat made when she moved.
Daisy was learning to be a lady’s maid very quickly, but Rose often sensed a naughtiness in her little maid and often wondered how long Daisy would be content to be a servant.
Telby Castle had been built in the latter years of the old queen’s reign. It was a sort of folly with towers and battlements,