Page 59 of Code Name Duchess
Chapter 29
“Idare say, you look better in my gown than I do,” Mary said with a smile as she watched Winnifred examine herself in front of the mirror.
She wore one of Mary’s flowered muslin round gowns, with a thin wool shawl draped around her shoulders. In place of her bonnet, she wore Mary’s cap, a simple white design with only one flower for adornment. She swayed from side to side as she inspected herself to make sure she could past for a commoner.
“Do you suppose I will stand out in St. Giles, looking like this?”
Mary was about to answer, when Victoria’s face appeared in the door frame. She was still in her black mourning attire. Winnifred and Victoria had agreed that, for the time being, it would be for the best not to take anyone other than Hester and Mary into their confidence.
For one, should the worst come to pass and Leo and Rose were not, as expected, still alive, they would have to plunge the servants into renewed grief.
And for another, one could never know whom one could trust. If too many people knew there was hope again, it might dash the chance of a safe return for Leo. Thus, Victoria kept to her chamber. It was there, in the privacy of their rooms, Winnie told her earlier that afternoon of their plan to go to St. Giles again. Now, it seemed, Victoria wanted to see just how Winnie intended to pass for anything other than a high society lady. And what she saw did not meet with approval. It was clear from the frown on her forehead.
“You are missing something.”
“Is that so, Miss Victoria?” Mary asked. Some of the old hostility still lingered in her voice. While Winnie and Victoria were cordial these past few days, their old disagreements remained unresolved, and Mary would always be loyal to Winnifred, first and foremost.
However, in this case, Victoria did not respond with her usual ire. Instead, she simply smiled and nodded at the maid.
“I am not in the habit of venturing out into the rookery like my sister, but I know enough from the few times my mother took me to the orphanage to know that people who live in poverty do not have access to the things we do. They do not have wash balls and basins available, nor do they have footmen to carry up hot water and tubs. Thus, to go undetected, Winnifred needs to look less…” She looked her sister up and down and then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Clean.”
To Winnifred’s surprise, Mary tilted her head to one side and examined her before nodding.
“You know, Miss Winnifred, your sister is not wrong in the least. You may be dressed in simple attire, but your face speaks of all of your nice powders and tinctures.”
“And your hair. You wear your hair like a high society lady. I don’t think the women who are forced to spend their lives in the hell that is St. Giles have much of an occasion to pin up their hair and adorn it with flowers. Come,” Victoria stepped into the chamber and pointed to the chair by the window.
“Mary, would you bring me some of my sister’s pots? And a comb? We will make you look like a pauper yet.” She smiled. Victoria, Winnie noted, was a changed lady. Gone was the devastation and despair. In their place was the joyful, cheery young woman she could at times be when her ill temperament did not get the best of her. There was no doubt about the matter in her mind—Leo and Rose were alive.
As Winnie took a seat and Victoria stepped behind her, the younger woman smiled. “Do you suppose His Grace will still like you if you look like a chimney sweep?”
“Faith, our Miss Winnifred don’t look like no climbing boy I’ve ever seen. What are you speaking of, Miss Victoria?”
“You’ll see,” Vicky chuckled. “Mary, would you take the comb and make sure my sister’s hair is in proper disarray?”
Footsteps halted outside her chamber, and when she looked over her shoulder and saw Mr. Purvis standing there with an expression of utter disapproval on his visage, she realized they’d been too raucous and too cheerful. They were meant to be in mourning.
Swiftly, Mary turned on her heels and close the door, saving them from the curious glances of the butler.
Victoria wasted no time. She quickly opened the various pots and patch boxes containing Winnie’s cosmetics, salves, and potions. She dabbed rouge on Winnie’s cheeks with such vigor, Winnie questioned her sister’s method. Upon receiving the critique, Vicky laughed.
“It is to make you look like you work outside a lot. You are much too pale to pass for a proper pauper. And now this…To make you a proper chimney sweep.” She opened the small patch box containing lamp-black soot and mixed it with one swift motion with some oil. Using a powder puff, she liberally applied the powder to her sister’s face and arms and then, to Mary’s utter horror, dabbed a few spots on the gown as well.
“Heaven Forwent! Miss Victoria. My gown! I intended to wear it again,” Mary’s eyes stood wide as she took in the damage to her clothing.
“Do not fret,” Winnie quickly said. “We will have it cleaned.”
“My dear, I know you do not understand much about household chores, but stains such as these will not come out.”
Winnie swallowed; guilt flooded her. “If it does not come out, then Victoria will gladly buy you a new one, a better one, even. And a shawl and matching bonnet.”
“Winnifred, I agreed to no such thing,” Victoria protested.
“Perhaps in future, ask permission before soiling another person’s attire. It is one thing to make me look…as you’ve made me look, but the gown is another matter. Now, do not be such a nipcheese.”
She braced herself for a verbal assault from her sister, but none came. Instead, she shrugged.
“Very well. Mary does need some assistance when it comes to her clothing anyhow. I have long pitied your sense of style, Mary. I shall buy you a gown that is not hideous.”
