The Girl in the Mask (7 page)

‘Call two sedan chairs, will you?’ my aunt demanded. ‘And hurry!’

‘If one is for me, I can walk,’ I said at once.

‘Walk around the city? In those clothes?’ My aunt shuddered.

‘But, Aunt, I’ve already done so, and indeed, no one stared at all.’

‘You’ve been walking … ?’ my aunt began faintly, and groped at once for her smelling salts. ‘Please, don’t tell me. I’d far rather not know. For goodness’ sake, Sophia, go and put a comb through your hair and wash your face! You look a perfect fright. Hurry!’

By the time I came back downstairs, two chairs awaited us outside the front door. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, as my aunt propelled me out to them. ‘I want some luncheon. I’m starving!’

‘You should have been here when it was served.’ She pushed me towards the sedan chair, but I dug my heels in. ‘I’m not getting in that thing, until you tell me where we’re going,’ I said loudly.

‘Hush, girl! We’re going to the dressmaker’s. We both need new clothes before we can make an appearance.’

‘No,’ I said at once. ‘I’ve seen the sort of clothes ladies wear in the city, and you’re not dressing
me
like that.’ The chairmen were sniggering, but I didn’t care. I turned and began to walk towards the house, but my aunt grasped my arm with unexpected strength. ‘You’ll regret this, Sophia,’ she hissed. ‘And you
will
go to the dressmaker’s sooner or later, whether you like it or not.’

I twisted away from her and went into the house. From the window, I watched as she climbed into the chair, and the two men bore her away. I grinned, rang the bell and asked the footman to bring me some food. He looked embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry, Miss. It’s the master’s orders. We’re not to serve food to you outside of meal times.’ He bowed. ‘Would there be anything else?’

‘No, thank you.’ I dismissed him, and flung myself furiously onto a settle. I was humiliated at being refused food. How
dared
my father treat me like this?

An hour later my father and my aunt both returned, she in a chair, he walking beside it. I was thoroughly bored, still angry and had been considering going out again, to make my rebellion complete.

‘Well, Sophia,’ said my father as he entered the room where I stood looking out of the window. ‘I hear you have not yet learned sense or compliance with my orders.’

I looked at him silently, wondering what he would do. His voice grew soft and dangerous. ‘The dressmaker is calling here in a few minutes’ time. You will see her and make no fuss, do you understand me?’

The menace in his voice had the effect of drying my mouth in fear, but I gathered my courage to answer him back: ‘I don’t wish to wear such gowns, or to appear in society, father. You cannot force me to do so.’

He came closer so that he loomed over me. ‘You understand very little about me if you think that I cannot force you to do anything I like,’ he said softly.

There was a knock at the door downstairs and the bustle of an arrival.

‘You’ll see the dressmaker now,’ said my father. ‘If there is any trouble at all, I shall come in here, forcibly strip you of your clothes and hold you still while she measures you for new ones.’

I wanted to tell him that he could scarcely make me attend balls, even if he could force me to dress, but somehow I couldn’t reply. My tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth, and I had to grit my teeth to stop myself shaking. My old fear of my father was reasserting itself. Every capitulation I made reinforced his power over me, but the violence in him brought back so many hateful, half-suppressed memories from my childhood. I could feel my resolve crumbling.

So it was that when the elegantly-attired dressmaker entered the room in my father’s wake a few moments later, I stood silent and still while he explained to her that he wished me to be fashionably dressed, clearly the daughter of a wealthy nobleman. ‘Her gown should befit a modest maiden making her début,’ he said.

The dressmaker curtsied: ‘You’ll be pleased with the result, sir, I promise.’

My father bowed and left the room. In a daze, I allowed myself to be measured, draped about with fabrics and discussed, all without a word of protest. I was furious with myself, but I couldn’t overcome my fear of my father. Terms such as brocade, point lace, flounce, tuck, and pleat flowed over me in a gentle stream, and the most I managed to do was nod and shake my head silently when required.

‘The gowns will be ready in a week. I venture to hope you’ll be very pleased with them,’ said the dressmaker at last, packing up her tapes and pins. ‘And the bill … ?’

‘Is to be sent to my brother, Sir Edward Williams, at this address,’ said my aunt.

The dressmaker withdrew, and my aunt looked sharply at me, assessing my mood. ‘I think we may as well get the linen and hats today too,’ she said, clearly wanting to make the most of my compliant state. ‘It’s three hours until dinner.’

‘So long?’ I whispered. Hunger had me in its grip once more.

‘Four o’clock is the dinner hour here in the city,’ replied my aunt.

When the sedan chairs arrived, I no longer had the strength to argue that I would prefer to walk. Instead, I climbed in meekly. With a lurch, the men lifted the chair off its legs, and I was carried through the streets. It was a strange sensation.

Our visits to the milliner’s and the other shops passed in a blur of noise and confusion. My aunt did the talking, the ordering and the choosing. I wasn’t even sure what she’d bought, though I’d had gloves pulled on and off my hands, shoes on and off my feet, shifts and lace petticoats held up against me, and, in yet another shop, hats placed one after another on my head. I was as helpless as a rag doll, and I loathed the feeling.

When it was time to leave the last shop, it was pouring with rain. The shopkeeper sent a boy running to find us chairs. When they arrived, he escorted us to them under an umbrella. I was still in a trance-like state, barely noticing anything all the way home. When we stopped, however, and I came to climb out of the chair, the door was shut fast. I shook the door. I was hungry, tired, sick to my very soul with my own weakness and just wanted to go home. The sounds of an altercation reached me through the heavy splashing of the rain on the cobbled street.

‘Aunt?’ I called, hearing her voice. There was no reply. ‘Hey, open the door!’ I called, thumping on the wood. The door remained fastened, but abruptly the roof above me opened, revealing the grey sky. The heavy rain poured straight in on me, drenching my hair in seconds.

‘What’s going on?’ I cried. I heard my aunt screaming. I was wide awake now. The cold rain had roused me from my torpor. Struggling in the confined space of the sedan chair, I climbed onto my seat and looked out through the open roof. The two chairmen were lounging at their ease under the stable-yard archway while both my aunt and I were locked into our chairs, roofs lifted off to expose us to the elements. If this was some kind of practical joke, I wasn’t amused.

I pulled myself up and out of the chair and dropped lightly onto the streaming cobbles. The chairmen hadn’t noticed me. They were watching my aunt’s chair, from which sounds of great distress were issuing. I splashed through the puddles to the door of her chair, lifted off the wooden latch that secured it and opened the door. My poor aunt sat inside, weeping, soaked through; her hat with its handsome black feathers a ruined, bedraggled mess on her head.

‘Come!’ I cried, grasping her hand. With a sob of relief, she let me tug her out of her chair, and we managed to take one step towards our front door before both chairmen blocked our way. ‘Not without payment!’ one of them demanded indignantly. He was an ill-favoured rogue with a wart on his face.

‘Carry us home without soaking us and we’ll pay you!’ I told him fiercely, seeing that my aunt was too upset to speak. ‘Now get out of our way or I’ll scream so loudly everyone will come out to see what’s going on. And then I’ll ask them to call the constable.’

He confronted us for a moment, a mixture of anger and doubt on his face. I filled my lungs ready to scream, and he stepped back reluctantly, allowing us to pass. I knocked loudly on the front door; it was opened and we rushed in out of the downpour.

My father had already changed for dinner and was awaiting us in his evening clothes. ‘What the … ?’ he asked, drawn out into the hall by my aunt’s noisy sobs. He stared in astonishment at our drenched state.

‘The chair … men!’ sobbed my aunt. ‘They … oh … oh!’ She began wailing again. My father rang the bell vigorously and sent for her maid to take her away, dry her off and calm her.

‘A rational tale, please, Sophia, and a brief one,’ he ordered me. I retold the incident in as few words as possible, and the butler coughed discreetly behind me.

‘What is it, Watson?’ asked my father, brusquely.

‘A common trick in this weather, I’m afraid, sir,’ he said apologetically. ‘The Bath chairmen are rogues, I’m sorry to say. I’m certain they asked the mistress for a fantastic sum, she refused, and they simply opened the roof and awaited her capitulation.’

‘But that’s a scandal!’ exclaimed my father.

‘Yes, sir. Mr Nash has been waging war on them for years, but there’s still plenty that will cheat you as soon as look at you.’

He bowed and withdrew to the dining room. My father bent his eye on me.

‘Climbing out of sedan chairs!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘What the devil will you do next? Go and get changed and be quick about it. I want my dinner.’

My aunt was subdued over the meal, saying little. Every now and then she drew a shaky breath that still had something of a sob in it. I concentrated on appeasing my hunger, partaking of an entrée of woodpigeon in a sauce, followed by a roast of mutton, served with potato pie and a selection of vegetables.

‘You will be pleased to hear I’ve been busy,’ announced my father as the servants removed the main course, bringing in dishes of blancmange and jelly as well as sweetmeats and nuts. ‘I’ve been to Harrison’s and have subscribed. There’s a pretty tea room there, as well as a card room, and there’s also a private garden down along the river, which seemed a pleasant sort of place to walk. I’ve also subscribed to the balls at the Guildhall. Everything’s run by that damned fellow Nash,’ here my father cast a disparaging glance at my aunt, who looked nervous again. ‘But I’m told he does a decent job of conducting everything, and all’s proper, so there we are.’

‘You’re
very
good to us, Sir Edward,’ said my aunt, brightening at this news. ‘What a delightful time we shall have, to be sure.’

‘I imagine so,’ said my father drily. ‘You may make your own choice of coffee house, Amelia, as I have made mine, but take great care that Sophia doesn’t get hold of unsuitable books. I gather the coffee houses have libraries and booksellers attached.’

‘Yes, Sir Edward,’ said my aunt obediently. ‘Girls are not allowed into coffee houses in any case. Though they may browse the bookshops. And the concerts are … ?’

‘Also at the Guildhall, I understand,’ replied my father. ‘No one has, as yet, tried to get me to part with any money for those.’

‘There is a theatre here in Trim Street too, father,’ I said. ‘I should dearly love to see a play.’

‘Out of the question,’ said my father. ‘Playhouses are hotbeds of vice.’

I sighed deeply and ate a jelly, trying not to think about the sort of life that awaited me as soon as my new clothes were ready. Only the theatre had roused a spark of enthusiasm within me, but plays were forbidden, of course.

‘Sophia,’ said my father abruptly. I couldn’t help myself starting. ‘I take it you are not proficient in dancing?’

‘No, sir,’ I replied, very disappointed that he was asking now. I’d very much hoped to drop this bombshell at the first ball.

‘Then you’ll be delighted to hear I’ve engaged a dancing master to attend you every morning for the next two weeks,’ he said. ‘That should keep you out of trouble.’

I retired to my bedchamber on the top floor that night completely dispirited. Dancing, balls, promenades, tea parties, and at the end of it a husband of my father’s choosing. I could see no escape from my grim future and it seemed I didn’t even have the capability to rebel. I needed to do something disobedient at once, or my courage would fail me entirely. I climbed out of my window. It gave onto a low stone parapet that ran the length of the terrace of houses and came to a dead end. It was far too high to jump, indeed the long drop made me quite dizzy, and there were no convenient trees.

I scrambled up over the slate tiles onto the peak of the roof and slid down the other side to the back of the house, and here I was more fortunate. On this side the terrace ended in a block of stables built right up against the end house. After a walk along the parapet and a short but tricky descent of a drainpipe, I dropped lightly onto the stable roof and from there it was easy to climb down into the coach-house yard. Finding the door unlocked, I went in and found our own chaise standing with several others.

I climbed inside, thinking I’d look for my father’s secret hiding place. I felt carefully over all the seats and seams, and looked under the seats, exploring the wood for hidden compartments. I found nothing. ‘It’s definitely inside the chaise, though,’ I said aloud to myself. ‘Because this is where he came and checked.’

I ran one hand along the back shelf above the seats again, pulling the fabric aside, and at last found a small catch. I pressed it and the seat came loose in my hand. As I pulled it forward, I could see in the dim light of the coach house that a sizeable compartment had been revealed. It was empty now, of course, but it must have been packed with valuables on the way here. I whistled silently, thinking how nervous my father must have been when Jenny was searching the coach. But it was too well hidden to be found in a hurry. I’d only succeeded because I’d had plenty of time and because I knew it was here.

Storing the knowledge up for an unspecified future occasion, I slipped out of the coach house, under the arch, and walked towards the city.