Page 30 of Sunday's Child

‘It’s time I stood up for myself. I am coming with you. Papa can make of it what he likes.’

Nancy glanced over her shoulder to see Mr Fitzallen standing at the office window, glowering at them. ‘All right, if you insist.’ She stood back as a cab drew up at the kerb.

‘Miss Maughfling’s Academy, Regent’s Park, please, cabby.’

Miss Maughfling was delighted with the complimentary tickets, but she was not pleased by Nancy’s decision to leave the Academy. Tamara was tearful, but resigned to the fact that her friend would no longer be sharing their room. However, when Molly returned from taking a message to Felicia from Nancy, accepting the position, Molly confessed to having problems with the other maidservants. They were all hoity-toity and stuck-up because their mistresses were going to be presented at Court. The maids had laughed at her Devonshire accent and made fun of her farming background.

‘I had to bite my tongue, Miss Nancy, or I’d have given them what for.’

‘I’m sorry, Molly. They should know better, but we’re leaving today. You may come with me or you can go home to Rockwood, whichever you choose.’

‘You’ll need someone to look after all those lovely clothes that Mrs de Marney has promised you,’ Molly said, grinning. ‘I can still see Reuben and visit his market garden on a Sunday, if that’s all right with you.’

‘Of course it is. I wouldn’t want to break up a budding romance.’

Molly’s round cheeks flushed and she smiled shyly. ‘I do like him, miss.’

‘We’ll be in London for the rest of the season. I don’t know where we’ll go after that.’

‘That’ll be long enough.’ Molly laughed softly as she packed the rest of Nancy’s clothes in a valise. ‘I think he’ll propose any day now.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of true love,’ Nancy said, smiling. ‘If only things were as easy for poor Tamara. Her romance looks doomed.’

‘Then she’ll have to run away with her man.’

‘It’s not as simple as that, Molly. William will lose his job at the shipping office if he doesn’t do as Mr Fitzallen says. He can’t support a wife without a steady income.’

‘That’s sad for them.’ Molly fastened the leather strap. ‘There we are. All done and ready to leave. Shall I go and find a cab, miss?’

‘Yes, Molly. I’m ready. The address is John Adam Street. This could be the start of something really exciting.’

Chapter Seven

Nancy and Molly arrived at John Adam Street to find that Mrs de Marney and her husband had left for the theatre. A new production was in rehearsal and they would not be back until mid-afternoon. However, Mrs de Marney had left instructions for Nancy to be shown her room and offered all the comforts of home. Nancy suspected that the thought for her wellbeing had been Claude’s suggestion, as Felicia was not known for considering the comfort of anyone other than herself. However, according to Violet, Felicia’s personal maid, an appointment had been arranged with the seamstress, who would come later that day and measure Nancy for new garments.

Felicia and Claude arrived home just as the seamstress was about to leave. Felicia strolled into the morning parlour, eyeing the pile of magazines left open at the fashion plates. Swatches of material covered the tea table in the window and pins were scattered on the floor.

‘Miss Bannister, I see you’ve been busy.’ Felicia took off her gloves and bonnet, handing them to her maid who was hovering in the doorway. ‘That will be all, Violet. Tell Rawlings to take tea and cake to the drawing room. I’m famished. We didn’t have time for luncheon.’

Miss Bannister brushed a stray strand of hair back from her brow. ‘I’ve taken Miss Sunday’s measurements, ma’am. I have a list of the garments she would like.’

Felicia snatched the notebook from Miss Bannister’s hand. ‘Let me see.’

‘I only chose what I thought I might need,’ Nancy said apologetically. ‘If it’s too much I can manage with less.’

Felicia frowned as she studied the list and the dress patterns. ‘These are not what I had in mind. Miss Bannister, pay attention, if you please.’ Felicia leafed through the pages of the magazines, pointing out creations that Nancy would never have dreamed of ordering. ‘You are my assistant, Nancy. We mix with the crème de la crème in society, and I cannot have you looking like a poor relation. You are my representative and I am always dressed in the height of fashion.’

‘Yes, you are, Mrs de Marney.’ Miss Bannister nodded so vigorously that Nancy was afraid she would do herself a mischief.

‘Very well then.’ Felicia sat down at the table and tore pages out of the journals, passing them to the bemused seamstress. ‘I think that will do for a start. Now let me see the materials you’ve chosen, Nancy.’

‘I didn’t pick anything too garish, ma’am.’

‘In other words you wish to look like a country mouse. Well, my dear, that won’t do. You are not living in Rockwood now. You are in fashionable London. Miss Bannister, pay attention and make notes.’ Felicia thumbed through the swatches, firing instructions at the seamstress until Nancy felt sorry for the woman.

At last Felicia was satisfied with her choices. Miss Bannister looked as if a puff of wind would blow her over and Nancy was left totally confused. The only person who seemed satisfied was Felicia. She beamed at Nancy. ‘We are invited to a ball at Dorrington House next week. Lord Dorrington is a well-respected patron of the arts, and his wife is particularly fond of opera. You will have the blue watered-silk gown ready by then, Miss Bannister.’

It was an order rather than a question and Miss Bannister paled visibly, but she nodded again, whispering something unintelligible. However, Felicia did not seem to notice.

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