Page 3 of An Innocent Maid for the Duke
It was just one of the things that made her feel especially lucky to have found this position. The pay at the club was better than anything she’d ever received before and, best of all, she didn’t have to live in as she did when working as a housemaid in a gentleman’s home. Housemaids risked the advances of any lusty fellow under its roof. Men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves were the reason she’d left her last three positions. She knew the risks of a kiss and a cuddle under the blankets. She was likely the result of one.
No, she was better off going to her own place every night. Her own home, meagre though it was. No matter how kind and respectful the family might be to their servants, she always felt like an intruder. An outsider looking in on a happiness she had never known. Perhaps one day she would have family of her own. She was determined she would. The idea of it sent a chill down her spine.
Enough daydreaming. If she was to do a bit of mending for the girls before she went home, she needed to get going.
She slipped into the Green Room unnoticed. Not green at all, of course. Painted white and blue and lined with mirrors, the large open room was in the basement at the back of the house. It was here the girls who performed at the V&V changed into their costumes, practiced their acts and rested when not required on stage. Or wherever they performed.
It had none of the lewd pictures and murals covering the walls and ceiling of the rest of the place, or the statues and artefacts, thank goodness. She’d become used to them over time, even got used to dusting them, but at first she hadn’t known where to look.
The Green Room was a whole different matter. She loved this room full of chatter and laughter and singing as the girls swirled around in their brightly coloured costumes. It was nothing like the stark cold rooms at the Foundling Hospital where she had grown up. Or the kitchens and servants’ halls she’d worked in when she’d gone out into the world. In those places, everyone was afraid of their shadow and talked in whispers.
She sank into the old horsehair sofa in the corner and pulled out the needle case she’d made at the orphanage. A small embroidered book that safely held her few precious needles and pins. She sorted through the mending in the basket beside the sofa and pulled out pair of holey stockings. She loved helping the girls and if they occasionally slipped her a penny or two for her efforts, she was grateful.
From here, she observed the goings-on while she rested her poor aching feet before walking home. With a sigh, she unlaced her half-boots, rubbed at her soles for a blissful moment or two, then tucked her them up under her skirts.
Peace at last.
‘I ’oped you’d come by.’ Fleurette, whose real name was Flo, plopped herself down beside Rose. Her fair golden locks were arranged in the elaborate hairstyle Rose had helped her with earlier in the day.
It was Flo who had first asked for Rose’s help with her hair. When the other girls had seen the result, they had begged for help, too. She did what she could, but Mrs Parker only gave her a few minutes off here and there during the evening. Still, she made a point of helping whenever she had a moment or two, as well as after work. It was these snatched moments that had put the idea into her head that she might one day become a ladies’ maid or a dressmaker.
Flo cracked a huge yawn, then exploded in laugher. ‘I’m so tired I could fall asleep right here.’
Rose had liked Flo on sight. Apparently the feeling had been mutual. For the first time in her life, Rose felt as if she had a true friend.
Making friends at the orphanage had been frowned upon. They weren’t there for enjoyment. They were unwanted children and needed to learn how to make themselves useful as adults.
‘Was there something you needed?’ she asked after a moment or two of silence.
Her friend winced. ‘I wore that new red gown for my first number and caught my heel in the hem. The old besom will fine me when she sees I’ve damaged it already.’
She looked so downcast Rose wanted to hug her. ‘Give it to me. I’ll fix it and take it up an inch and then you won’t trip.’
‘I feel terrible asking. You’ve been here for hours—’
‘And you need it for tomorrow. I’m happy to do it.’
‘I’ll pay you.’
‘No! What are friends for?’
Flo gave her a mock glare. ‘You’ll take a couple of coppers and like it. I’d have to pay a whole lot more if the old besom had her way.’ All the girls called the wardrobe mistress ‘the old besom.’
‘It is not right that they fine you for rips and such,’ Rose said. ‘It is not as if the gowns are brand new when you get them. Don’t worry, I’ll do it before I go home.’
Flo leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘You are a dear. I’ll go and fetch it. And don’t be offering to sew anyone else’s gown for free. Or style their hair, for that matter.’
‘I do it because I like doing it,’ she said to Flo’s departing back. And because it gave her hope that one day she could be more than a scullery maid. A hope that people wouldn’t look at her with disdain because she scrubbed floors and washed dishes, and was a bastard to boot.
Within moments, Flo was back with a gown of brilliant scarlet with silk roses adorning neckline and hem.
Rose let the silky fabric slide through her fingers, careful not to let it catch on her work-worn skin and torn nails. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll have it done in no time.’
‘Flo,’ one of the other girls called. ‘Your gentleman’s waiting at the back door.’
A shadow passed across her friend’s face, but then she shot Rose a cheeky smile. ‘’Is lordship’s taking me out for dinner.’ She glided away.
His lordship, as Flo called him, was Flo’s gentleman follower. Rose sometimes wondered if he treated her right. There had been a couple of unexplained bruises that Flo had brushed off as falls.
