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A way from her stern and unforgiving dance master, Miss Alice proved to be nimble and graceful. Lydia taught her some of the tricks she and her sisters had used to master the steps, and chuckled when she heard Miss Alice whispering them under her breath as she moved.

“I am so grateful, Lydia!” she said on their final practice session before the ball was to take place.

“As I am grateful to you, Miss Alice. I know not what would have happened to me had you not taken pity on me.” Lydia spoke fervently.

“I am glad I could – but oh! I almost forgot! Mama said that you are to help serve at the ball tomorrow; she thought you would enjoy seeing all the pretty dresses.”

As it happened, Lydia would much rather not have to stand on her feet all night long after having been on her feet all day, helping the other maids clean the house until it sparkled, but she could not say so.

Instead, she said, “How very kind of her! But it would be best if she were to convey her instructions to Mrs. Hodges, otherwise I will not be excused from my regular duties.”

“Oh, of course. We must protect Mrs. Hodges’ feelings at all costs.” Miss Alice actually rolled her eyes, causing Lydia to laugh aloud.

***

Lydia found Edith changing the sheets on Miss Emily’s bed, and she immediately ran in to help.

“Back from the ballroom, are ya?” Edith asked.

“Yes, and you will be delighted to hear that I am to serve at the ball tomorrow night while you are resting with your feet up!”

“But why? It is for the footmen to serve, not us!” Edith was indignant.

“Her ladyship has taken it into her head that it is a reward of some sort for me,” Lydia grumbled.

Mrs. Hodges’ arrival interrupted them. “So you are to serve at the ball tomorrow night, Lydia, according to her ladyship! Did she ask my opinion of the matter? No, she did not! ‘Have that Lydia girl help at the ball,’ says she, and so I shall. But you are to stay out of sight, do you hear me? And do whatever Mr. Durston tells you!”

Lydia agreed, though not with any enthusiasm.

***

The next day was a long one. Lydia and Edith were up before dawn, obeying orders barked out by Mrs. Hodges and Mr. Durston.

The house was to be sparkling clean, flowers were to be arranged perfectly, the massive chandeliers in the ballroom were equipped with brand new beeswax candlesticks.

The kitchen was downright frenetic; family and servants alike had only cold repasts throughout the day while Cook and her assistants worked on the feast that would be offered to the guests that night.

“Will we get any of it?” Edith whispered to Lydia.

“Depends; if there are leftovers, they will go to us.”

“You’ll get some though, right enough,” Edith whispered, enviously. “Put one of them cinnamon things in yer pocket fer me!”

“I cannot do it,” Lydia whispered back.

“And why not? I’d do it fer ya, you know I would!”

“Have you seen what they want me to wear tonight? No pockets at all!” It was true; Lydia had been presented with a new black cotton dress of rather better material than her usual grey work dresses, and a snow white apron. There were, as she had stated, no pockets.

Lydia’s duties, evidently, consisted mainly of staying in the ladies’ retiring room and helping with torn hems and similar difficulties.

An entire sewing basket had been provided, with pins, needles and threads of all colours.

Lydia was not the seamstress her sister Jane was, but she was accomplished enough for simple tasks such as these.

Occasionally, one of the ladies she helped slipped her a coin; having no pocket in which to put the coins, she hid them in her shoes.

***

The Countess of Matlock had been invited to the ball. Lady Eleanor had found Lady Greenfield to be a great help on one of her more important charity committees, and so she had decided to accept the invitation. Her husband, the Earl of Matlock, had to accompany her, of course.

“Remind me why we are attending?” he asked her, rather peevishly, once they were settled in the carriage. “He is not political, you know, not at all!”

“It is not all about votes, Henry,” she scolded him. “I have my own concerns, you know!”

“Oh, she is on one of your committees, is she?” he asked.

“She is, and doing a fine job of it.”

“Very well,” he sighed. “Another damned tedious evening, I expect.”

An hour later, the Countess hid a yawn behind her fan. It was, as Henry had predicted, a tedious evening. She had been besieged by ladies hoping to make her acquaintance since the moment she had arrived, and she deserved a break from it.

“I hope you will excuse me,” she said to a matron who was surrounded by three adoring – and quite unattractive – daughters.

“Of course!” the three of them twittered, curtseying.

The Countess made her way to the ladies’ retiring room,.

She would not be alone there, but there would be far fewer people.

There were, in fact, only two other ladies, and a maid who was pinning up torn hems. The maid was quite young, but she seemed quick enough with the needle, as she finished the two hems in short order.

The young ladies the maid had helped rose and swished out of the room without a backward glance.

The maid sighed, rose and turned to the Countess. “How may I help you, ma’am?” she asked with a very proper curtsey. Her accent was not that of a maid, and she looked oddly familiar.

“Nothing whatever; I am here to rest,” the Countess replied.

The maid chuckled. “I understand, ma’am. I will not disturb your peace.” And she sat down in one of the chairs and closed her eyes, looking suddenly weary.

The Countess was then free to study the maid’s face.

She was a pretty girl, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, with blond hair.

Her complexion was good, though her hands spoke of a good deal of housework.

Despite how familiar the girl’s face looked, the Countess could not place her at all.

She could not imagine addressing one of the maids, but she was curious enough to finally blurt out, “Do I know you, girl?”

The maid’s eyes opened and she shook her head, hard. “Oh, no, I hardly think so, ma’am!”

“Hmm,” the Countess mused. “I have seen your face somewhere, but where?” She tapped her chin, considering.

The door burst open and a young lady popped in, demanding help with the heel of her shoe, which had broken off. The maid slid down to the floor to look at the slipper, and the young lady turned to the Countess, saying, breathlessly, “Oh, Lady Eleanor! How wonderful to see you!”

The Countess spoke briefly with the newcomer and then left.

Not long after, Mrs. Hudson entered the room. She scowled at Lydia and told her to run down to the kitchen for something to eat. “But come right back, do you hear me?”

Lydia rose and began to leave, but then turned back. “Mrs. Hudson, the ball will last until the early hours, will it not?” she asked, tentatively.

“Yes; what of it?”

“Well, I shall not get much sleep if I am expected to rise at five in the morning after not going to bed until two.”

Mrs. Hudson thought this over. “Just this once, you may sleep in until eight. The family will doubtless all sleep late, so there is no need for the upstairs maids to be up as early as usual.”

“Edith as well?”

“Yes; but just this once, mind! Off with you now, and come back as soon as you’ve got something in your belly!”

Lydia curtsied respectfully to the housekeeper and dashed downstairs to the kitchen.

Cook had held back a good number of the delicious items that were being served to the guests, and Lydia was delighted to be allowed to partake.

“These are delicious pastries, Cook,” she said.

“But I have been remiss in thanking you for recommending me to Miss Alice. It was a treat to teach her dance steps!”

“Better than changing linens, I suppose,” Cook replied.

Lydia gaped at her. This was the longest speech she had ever had from Cook. “Yes, very much so,” she managed.

“You could be housekeeper one day, you know,” Cook continued.

“Me?” Lydia was astonished at the thought.

“Do you want to be a housemaid all your life? You are clever enough to do better. And Mrs. Hodges is in her fifties already; she cannot last forever.”

Lydia could only stare at the woman. A housemaid all her life?

It had never occurred to her that this was her most likely fate.

If this was the case, then yes, being a housekeeper was a good deal better.

She had once peeked into Mrs. Hudson’s bedroom, and it was a good deal larger and more comfortable than the room Lydia and Edith shared.

It was too much to take in all at once; she would think about it later! Lydia thanked Cook and ran back upstairs to take up her position in the ladies’ retiring room once again. It was past two in the morning when an exhausted Lydia crawled into bed. Edith murmured in her sleep, but did not awaken.

***

The next morning, Lydia awoke to find Edith already dressed and alert. “What are those coins?” Edith demanded at once, pointing to the coins on top of their shared dresser.

“Some of the ladies gave me money for helping them,” Lydia said. Knowing immediately what was expected, she took half the coins and gave them to Edith. “You had to do my work for me, so you deserve half of this money.”

Mollified, Edith took the money and hid it in one of her drawers; Lydia did the same.

“What was the ball like?” Edith asked as they made their way down to the family’s bedrooms to begin their morning chores.

“I know not,” Lydia said, shrugging. “I was in the ladies’ retiring room the whole time.”

“You did not see them dancing?”

“Not at all.”

Edith sniffed. “So this supposed treat of ya watching the ball was just ya sewing up ripped hems and the like.”

“Exactly. But Cook did give me some of the food that was for the guests.”

Edith shook her head. “I would rather have had the extra sleep.”

“As would I,” Lydia admitted. “But you know that our wishes count for little.”

***

That night, the Countess woke up from a deep sleep and sat upright in her bed with a gasp. She had just recalled why that maid in the retiring room had looked so familiar.