Page 52 of A Marriage is Arranged
The following morning the Countess slept late. Her morning tea remained untouched, her crumpled gown was in a heap from the previous evening, for her husband had told Lisle to allow no one upstairs unless they rang, and her petticoat and chemise were somewhere under the bed, when Rose burst into her bedchamber.
“Oh, m’lady, look! Look!” she cried. “I can’t b’lieve he done it!”
“What? What?” Louise struggled from her sleep and sat up, realized she was naked and pulled the coverlet up to cover herself.
“Look!”
Taking the newspaper Rose was thrusting at her, she lay it flat upon the bed. There, looking back at her was the caricature of her husband she had done when they first met. It was grotesque but exactly like him, though now her fond eye regretted the scowl and the thin lips.
“What… how… who…?” she stammered
“It were Freddy, m’lady!” cried Rose, tears starting to her eyes, “‘E said ’e just wanted to borrer them. But ’e never brought them back! On my life, I ’ad no idea what was in ’is mind!”
“You mean you gave my caricatures to this newspaper boy?”
“Yes!” the tears now fell in huge drops. “I didn’t think you’d mind, m’lady! You always said they was just for fun. But now….”
Rose had at last understood that while the images, or most of them, were rather funny, the people depicted in them wouldn’t think so. The tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. Louise, though she was still in something of a daze, noticed that, unlike her, her maid was one of those lucky women who could cry without disfiguring themselves. The tears glistened like gems on her long lashes and downy cheeks.
“I’m ever so sorry, m’lady,” sobbed Rose, “I was right taken in by him. He said he wanted to marry me! But if I’d ever thought….”
Louise couldn’t blame the girl. Just look what love had made her do!
“Don’t cry, Rose,” she said. “What you did was wrong, but you aren’t the first to be taken in by a man. Why don’t you go and make some tea for us both while I decide what to do.”
Rose grabbed Louise’s hand and kissed it. “Thank you, m’lady,” she said and ran off. She had fully expected to be dismissed on the spot.
Louise quickly got out of bed and pulled on her nightgown. She retrieved her underclothes and gown from the floor and put them over a chair. Then she sat at her desk turning the pages of the newspaper. There they all were: Lady Wroxford with a nose like a needle, Lord Plimpton, his head reposing on what looked like a layered blancmange pudding, Mr. Pryce tripping on feet clad in baby booties, Mrs. Overton waving enormous hands in the manner of flippers, the honorable Beau Mainwaring’s wife as a terrier on her hind legs, a ruff around her neck, a bow in her hair and her eyes shining as if she were expecting a bone and the gentleman with the lost hat spilling over the saddle of a horse that bowed visibly under his weight. But worst was the portrait of Diane Courtland. The others were perhaps unkind, but they were comic. That one was positively vitriolic.
Louise was hastily scanning the pages to see if the artist’s name was anywhere mentioned. The editors had written:
We are pleased to present today a series of caricatures of some of the best known members of London society. The artist, who is clearly acquainted with them all and must be of their set, is known to us only as L S. What could the reason be for these cruelly comic depictions? We can only guess. A slight to be avenged? An enemy to be thwarted? A rival to be pilloried? We know not, but we hope to bring you more information as it becomes known to us.
She bit her lip, thinking furiously. There was no reason for anyone to associate her with the initials LS. Even if Lady Shrewsbury came up, who would believe she had done a caricature of her own husband? But would this Freddy give the name away? No, because he could be accused of theft. She was quite sure Rose would testify she had only loaned him the pictures. Pretty and na?ve as she was, no one would disbelieve her.
At that point the girl herself returned with a tea tray and poured out a cup for her mistress.
“Have one yourself,” said Louise. “You need it I as much as I do. Tell me, has his lordship seen this?”
“No ’e ’asn’t. No one has, ’cept Mr. Lisle.” Rose sniffed and wiped her nose on a screwed-up handkerchief. “It were late arrivin’ this mornin’. He were ironing it an’ I ’eard ’im shout out, like. You know ’im, ’e don’t usually talk loud, so I went t’see what the problem was. He showed me. I said they was your friends and I thought you’d want t’see. So, bein’ as ’is lordship is already gone to the ’Ouse, he give it t’ me.”
“Good. Put the newspaper in the library as usual and say nothing about it. Our best bet is to just act as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Try not to cry, though people will probably just think you’re upset about Freddy. But apart from him, there’s nothing to associate those pictures with us, and I don’t think he’ll show his face around here again.”
“An’ a good thing too!” said Rose fiercely. “I’d scratch ’is eyes out if I saw ’im.” Then, after a pause, she continued, “If you please, m’lady, I’ve bin thinkin’. You ’ave all the reason in the world to dismiss me without a character. An’ I deserve it. But if you can see your way clear, I’d like to go ’ome. I won’t never talk about nothing, I promise. I thought I liked it ’ere, but I see now I was really only ’appy because of Freddy and ’e was a snake!” Tears came to her eyes again. “Please, m’lady, I miss me mum… and Jimmy.”
“Jimmy?”
“Yes, we was walking out before I come to Lunnon. I was that stupid! I thought Freddy were a better catch, but I see now I was the one got caught. Jimmy would never serve me a trick like that.”
She sniffed again and wiped her nose. “An’ you’ve got Susan. She’s better ’n me as a dresser, everybody knows that. If I can go back to Mrs. Grey, just as a parlor maid, that’d suit me.”
“Are you sure? I’m not going to dismiss you to go because of… all this.” Louise gestured at the newspaper. “We all make mistakes, especially where men are concerned. But if you truly want to go home, I can try to arrange it.”
“Thank you, m’lady, thank you. I’ll be better off there. I don’t think I was made for bein’ in a big city. I enjoyed all the sights, though. It’ll be somethin’ to tell my children.” Rose seemed much more adult all of a sudden. “’Course, I’ll have to tell Jimmy about what I done ’ere. But ’e loves me and I think ’e’ll forgive me.”
“If he really loves you, he will. And I wish you every happiness. I’ll write to my mother and see if she’ll take you back and then I’ll ask his lordship if he’ll spare a carriage to take you home.”
“One with the picture on the sides?” Rose brightened visibly.
Louise laughed. “Yes, I think they’ve all got the coat of arms on the doors.”
“Won’t me mum be proud, seeing me drive up in that!”
Rose went off with a spring in her step to bring hot water for her ladyship.
Louise was fairly sure her mother would take Rose back because she was going to offer to pay her wage. She could afford it out of her allowance. And she was right. Mrs. Grey was pleased to have a pretty and biddable parlor maid. Her dresser, the formidable Wilkins, was surprised to see her niece back but never did know the truth of the matter. Rose kept to her story that she was homesick.
In fact, her employment in the Grey household was of short duration, for within a year she married her Jimmy and became mother to a number of children, all as pretty and amenable as herself. They were all very happy and never tired of their mother’s stories about the Big City.