A Most Unconventional Courtship Page 13

  ‘Yes, all of us. And you will go to school there and grow up to be a gentleman and Dora will have a governess and learn to play the piano and have lovely dresses.’

  ‘Will I have to be an English gentleman?’

  ‘You will be both a Greek gentleman and an English gentleman and then when you grow up you can chose to do what you want, where you want.’

  ‘It rains all the time in England, Aunt Kate says so.’

  ‘Not all the time, but it is not so hot as here and olives and vines do not grow.’

  ‘Aiee! What do people eat then?’

  ‘Lots of meat and cow’s milk and cheese and many vegetables and fruits. And we will visit London, which is the biggest city in the world.’

  ‘Bigger than Corfu Town?’ Dora’s eyes were popping.

  ‘Bigger than the whole island.’ The children were speechless. Alessa cuddled them close, her eyes meeting Kate’s over the top of their heads. Was she doing the right thing? Yes, surely to give them all the opportunities and the choices in her power was right.

  ‘We will all be fine,’ Kate reassured her, her smile rueful as she took in the fierceness of Alessa’s hold on the children.

  ‘In three days from tomorrow, I want you all to come down to the villa to meet Lady Blackstone, my aunt,’ Alessa declared. It was as long as she was prepared to be parted from the children and Aunt Honoria had to meet them sooner rather than later. She could hardly drag them off on a long voyage with a woman they did not know.

  ‘All of us?’ Kate’s eyebrows had shot up.

  ‘Yes, all three of you. I told my aunt that I lived with the wife of a sergeant of the garrison, she will expect to meet you.’

  ‘Lumme.’ Kate, for once, looked nervous. ‘It’ll be Sunday best, a fichu for decency and my hair braided up, I suppose. One look at me and her ladyship’ll jump to all sorts of conclusions about my past, and that won’t do you any good, even if she will be accurate, most like.’

  ‘I am not ashamed to be your friend.’ Alessa stretched to press Kate’s hand. ‘But I think she may be rather…conventional, and I shock her already, so we had all better be on our best behaviour.’

  ‘Right you are. And what about his lordship, then? He’s living there, isn’t he? That’ll be cosy.’

  ‘Dora, would you run along to ask Dinos if I may borrow his mule and the pack saddle tomorrow morning? And, Demetri, can you find my two portmanteaux? I pushed them up into the hay loft.’

  She watched until the children were out of earshot. ‘We quarrelled. He seemed to think that…that we could be…and I did encourage him, only…’ Her voice trailed off. ‘Anyway, we quarrelled.’

  ‘They’re mostly all the same, men,’ Kate said gloomily. ‘My Fred’s all right now, but talk about marriage and he wriggles like an eel on a hook. But lords and the like, they’re worse. They’re tricksy and they expect to get what they want, pay for it or no. Are you in love with him?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alessa said baldly.

  ‘Does he know?’

  ‘No! Good Heavens, no. I mean, when he kissed me, I kissed him back, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I love him, does it? He wouldn’t jump to that conclusion because I let him? I rather more than just let him kiss me, if truth be told,’ she added with a burst of candour.

  ‘Lord love you, no.’ Kate grinned broadly. ‘With a well setup young man like that, to say nothing of the title and the money and everything, he won’t think twice because a girl’s willing. Why, I expect he’s beating them off with a stick daily. You kissing him with unmaidenly enthusiasm is not going to make him suspicious, I’m sure. They all think they are God’s gift to womankind anyway.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ Alessa said devoutly. ‘This is going to be hard enough, without him guessing.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Alessa approached the villa with butterflies in her stomach. She could not remember feeling this nervous for years. Since she had taken charge of the household she had learned to stand up for herself, think through what she wanted, and work out how to set about achieving it. No one else was going to do it for her. For a woman alone that had meant nervous sensibilities were an impractical luxury, and maidenly dithering and indecision got her precisely nowhere.

  The problem now was that she was not at all sure she knew what she wanted, nor how to behave while she was finding out. Uncertainty was a more trying state than she had expected. With a silent request to Saint Spyridhon to suppress any tempests in her vicinity, she led her borrowed mule into the courtyard.

  Two grooms immediately hurried to her side, one to take the leading rein, the other to lift down her luggage. They were less skilled than the butler in concealing their surprise that a guest at the High Commission villa would arrive at the back door in peasant clothing and leading her own mule.

  ‘Thank you.’ Alessa nodded to them and turned to young Yanni, whose father had lent her the mule. ‘Efharisto, Yanni.’ She pressed a coin into his grubby fist and he grinned, took back the leading rein with a proprietorial air and marched away, his bare feet kicking up the dust. He would go straight off to Demetri and report, she knew. It was as if her last link with her little family was broken.

  ‘This way, if you please, Miss Alexandra.’ The groom gestured to the back door and Alessa preceded him into the gloomy corridor she remembered from the day before.

  Miss Alexandra. That seemed belittling after the dignity of Kyria—Mistress. The title was given with respect, according her the status of a married woman, and an independent economic entity. And Alexandra. No one had called her that for years, not since they had settled on the island and her father had changed her name for something ‘more Greek’. At the time she had protested—no one she had met was called Alessa, and anyway, what about Alexander the Great?

  He was a Macedonian, her father had said, brooking no argument. Only later she realised he was pained by recalling her mother saying her name, the French accent drawing out the four syllables luxuriously.

  Now she was reduced to the status of an unmarried girl. Well, she must learn to bite her tongue and put up with it. To fall out with her newly discovered aunt was both ill mannered and unproductive.

  Ushered briskly along the passage, she was past the storeroom where yesterday she had so shamelessly returned Chance’s passion, and through the door into the hall, before she realised it.

  Wilkins the butler was waiting for her. ‘Your luggage has been taken up, Miss Alexandra, if you would please follow me. Miss Blackstone’s woman will be waiting upon you and has selected some gowns for your approval. Miss Trevick has lent some items as well, I understand. The sempstress from Corfu Town will be calling this afternoon with some samples.’

  From Corfu Town? Already? Aunt must have sent for her as soon as I left. Something else struck her as an anomaly. ‘Wilkins.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Alexandra?’ He paused on the landing.

  ‘I would prefer it if you would address me as Miss Meredith. I have no elder sister.’

  The butler paused, just long enough for her to be seized with doubt. That was correct, was it not? The elder daughter was addressed by the family surname, the younger ones by their first names?

  ‘Of course, Miss Meredith. My apologies. I will instruct the other staff.’

  That was a relief. She had succeeded, perfectly politely, in putting the top-lofty butler in his place and asserting that she was not the poor relation. Now all she had to do was to deal as confidently with the residents of the villa.

  Her bedchamber was a revelation. Wilkins opened the door, ushered her in and removed himself with a bow. Alessa found herself in a chamber as large as her entire apartment in the town, confronting a neatly turned out maid who was laying a bewildering array of clothing on the wide bed.

  ‘Miss Alexandra.’ The girl bobbed a curtsy. ‘I’m Peters, miss, and Lady Blackstone says I’m to look after you as well as Miss Blackstone.’

  ‘Thank you, Peters. I hope it will not make a great deal more wor
k for you,’ Alessa said pleasantly, closing the door behind her. ‘And it is Miss Meredith, by the way.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Meredith. I’m sorry, Miss Meredith.’

  ‘You were not to know.’ The girl shot her a grateful glance that gave Alessa a momentary qualm about the usual temper of Lady Blackstone if the maid was so nervous. ‘Now, what are all these clothes?’

  ‘What Miss Blackstone and Miss Trevick have lent, Miss Meredith.’ The girl hastened to display the best items. ‘Her ladyship said you were taller than Miss Blackstone, but she’s lent stockings and a shawl and such like.’ She eyed Alessa’s clothes warily. ‘That’s a very pretty outfit, miss.’

  ‘Yes. My Sunday best, but I will not wear it here. What would be suitable now, Peters?’ The maid’s eyes widened. ‘I have not worn anything but Greek costume since I was much younger, so I am relying on you to tell me how to go on.’

  ‘Yes’m.’ The concept seemed to have struck the maid dumb.

  ‘I think I would like a wash before I touch any of those lovely things,’ Alessa added with a smile. ‘I have walked two miles and I have been leading the mule, so I am a little dusty.’

  ‘Would you like a bath, Miss Meredith?’

  Alessa was about to protest that it was far too much trouble to carry water up all those stairs, then caught herself just in time. At the top of her house it was hard labour to carry up water; now she was in a villa full of servants, and she would be expected to behave as though she was used to that.

  ‘Yes, thank you, that would be very welcome.’

  ‘If you go through to the dressing room and get undressed behind the screen, I’ll ring for the bath directly, miss.’

  There is a dressing room as well? Amid a swathe of linen towels on the polished boards, an embossed leather screen gave privacy in a corner and presses and drawers stood empty, waiting for her new clothes to fill them.

  ‘They are on their way up, Miss Meredith.’ Peters came bustling in, a robe draped over her arm, and shooed Alessa behind the screen. ‘I’ll just undress you, miss.’

  ‘Oh! No, I can manage.’

  ‘But your stays, miss?’

  ‘I do not wear them.’ Alessa began to unlace her bodice, slipped it off and unhooked her waistband, stepping out of the wide black skirt to stand in front of the bemused maid in petticoats and blouse. She untied her garters and unbuckled her sturdy black shoes, rolling down the white stockings before a thought struck her. ‘What about shoes?’

  Peters seemed too stunned by the revelation about stays to take in what was being asked. ‘Shoes, miss? Oh, kid sandals, I should think, with this gown.’

  ‘I do not have any shoes, other than ones like this, Peters.’

  ‘’Strewth, miss.’ They both regarded Alessa’s bare feet. ‘They are a bit big…I mean, a bit bigger than the other young ladies.’

  ‘I am on them a great deal,’ Alessa said ruefully.

  ‘I don’t mean they’re enormous, miss. I could lend you some of my indoor shoes and then the sempstress could tell the shoemaker to come out, when she gets back.’ Peters hitched up her skirts and placed one foot next to Alessa’s.

  ‘A perfect match. Thank you, Peters.’ She began to unbutton the blouse, feeling curiously shy. The maid was used to undressing and dressing ladies, it was her job. But it felt so strange to be waited on.

  ‘Miss Meredith?’ Peters ran appreciative fingers over the fine white-work on the sleeves before folding the blouse over her arm. ‘Can I ask, miss, why you haven’t…I mean, I don’t want to pry or anything.’

  The thud of feet over the boards heralded the entrance of footmen with hot-water jugs. Alessa waited until they had finished, then stepped out of her petticoats and handed them to the maid. ‘No, I do not mind questions, Peters. I will tell you about why I am here on Corfu, and you may tell the other servants too, if they should ask.’

  The tale lasted until Alessa had taken her bath and was swathed in a large towel. Everything she had related was true, except for her role with the laundry of the Commission’s ladies and the fact that she knew Lord Blakeney.

  ‘Coo!’ Peters’s eyes were wide. ‘That’s just like one of those novels, miss, ever so exciting. No wonder you haven’t got the clothes.’

  ‘And I do not know much about how to go on in society either, Peters. I am going to have to rely on you to make sure I am wearing the right things all the time.’

  ‘Right, miss. Well, it’s a chemise first and then the stays.’ Alessa’s expression must have registered, for the maid chuckled. ‘You won’t get into these gowns unless you lace, miss, but I won’t do it too tight, don’t you worry.’

  Alessa walked downstairs an hour later, convinced that if this was loose lacing, then she would faint if Peters tried anything tighter. But the effect on her bosom was startling, even under a carefully draped fichu, and it certainly made one slow down and walk with elegance. Used to rushing everywhere, Alessa felt a little like a hobbled mule.

  Peters had brushed out her hair and braided, pinned and pleated until it bore as close a resemblance to a fashionable style as possible without the attentions of a hairdresser and hot irons, and Alessa had stared back in wonder at the stranger with her face in the glass.

  Even Wilkins unbent a touch as she reached the foot of the stairs. The butler emerged as though by magic and smiled primly. ‘Very nice, Miss Meredith, if I may be so bold as to comment. Quite the transformation scene. The ladies are in the front reception room.’

  Thank goodness, only the ladies. The thought of meeting Chance again under Aunt Honoria’s critical eye was daunting, although it had to be faced sooner or later.

  Music flowed from the half-open door. Alessa slipped in and regarded the scene unobserved. Lady Trevick was reading a journal and Lady Blackstone was writing at a desk in the window embrasure. On the other side of the room Maria Trevick picked her way through an air on the piano and her sister Helena and Frances Blackstone appeared to be trying to make something out of cardboard and sewing silks.

  Then the girls glanced up and saw her. ‘Oh, Cousin Alexandra—you are here!’ Frances jumped to her feet, her slightly plump face beaming, and Maria lifted her hands from the piano keys.

  ‘Ah, welcome, my dear.’ Lady Trevick’s assessing gaze transformed into a smile of approval. ‘How nice you look. Is your room to your taste?’

  ‘It is delightful, ma’am. And I must thank Miss Trevick and Miss Blackstone for lending me clothes, and for the help of the maid.’ She glanced across to where Lady Blackstone had laid down her quill and was studying her. ‘Good morning, Aunt Honoria.’

  ‘Good morning, Alexandra. I must say you look very well, very well indeed. Did Peters tell you that the dressmaker is coming this afternoon?’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Honoria, thank you.’ What was she expected to do now?

  ‘Do you play the piano?’ Maria was at her side.

  ‘No, I am afraid I play no instrument. You seem to be very accomplished.’

  ‘Thank you. Never mind about not being able to play—the practise is an awful bore, so just be glad you have escaped that. Although…’ she lowered her tone, leading Alessa towards the table and the other two ‘…it is very good for flirting with gentlemen when they turn the music for you.’

  ‘Come and help us.’ Her cousin patted the chair next to her. ‘We are trying to make this reticule from a pattern in Ackermann’s Repository. It says it may be easily made up with a little care. We’ve had three attempts to cut it out, and it still looks lop-sided.’

  ‘Perhaps if we trace off the pattern on this thinner paper and then fold it in half…’ Alessa was working as she spoke. This was like making paper castles with the children. ‘And then cut round and open it out. There—is that better?’

  ‘Wonderful.’ Frances applied the pattern to a fresh piece of cardboard and began to trace round it. ‘What shall we cover it in?’

  An hour later the reticule was nearing completion, but Alessa could not believe that the four
of them had spent so much time on a frivolous piece of handwork. Nor could she recall having sat still for so long without doing something useful for an age. She glanced anxiously towards her aunt, who was making inroads into what seemed to be an inexhaustible pile of correspondence.

  ‘I feel I ought to be doing something useful for Lady Blackstone,’ she whispered.

  ‘Goodness, Mama will soon tell us if she needs anything,’ Frances responded. ‘You are here as my cousin, not a paid companion. I am sure you need a rest as well, having to earn your living making all those medicines and things. And don’t you have two children living with you? Still, I expect your chaperon helps look after them.’

  ‘Yes, but…Yes, of course.’

  ‘What sort of medicines do you make?’ Helena put down the needle she was trying to thread. ‘Love potions?’

  As it happened Alessa had both a medicine for inflaming male passions and one for damping them down in her repertoire. Both had been taught her by Agatha, although she had never had cause to prescribe either. However, she suspected that a potion to make a man ‘as virile as a rutting boar’ was not quite what Helena had in mind.

  How young these girls seemed, playing with their fashion journals and dreaming of flirtation. Still, she had to live with them, if only for a while. She must try and enter into the spirit of life here. ‘For whom do you want it?’ she enquired conspiratorially.

  Helena giggled and blushed. ‘She thinks she’s in love with the Count of Kurateni,’ Maria whispered.

  ‘Oh, Voltar…’ Frances sighed gustily, ducking as a balled-up skein of sewing silk flew at her.

  ‘He seems to be very handsome and charming,’ Alessa said diplomatically. ‘Have you known him long?’

  ‘Only from a distance.’ From Helena’s gusty sigh, Alessa rather gathered that this had lent enchantment to her infatuation. ‘He visits Uncle Thomas on business sometimes.’

  ‘I think he is a pirate—what do you think, Alexandra? Have you met him before?’

  ‘No, never, but anyone living in Corfu Town would know him by sight—he is a great trader and his ships are often in the port. What about you, Maria? Do you have a beau?’ For some reason this reduced Miss Trevick to silent confusion.