Privately, she wished they would. It might teach Genevieve a lesson to find herself purging and cramping.
Genevieve’s other hobby was reclining in her lounge beside the window and watching the neighbors for signs of anything scandalous, which she related to her bosom friends in shocked tones when they came to call.
She should write a book about the neighbors, Bella thought with amusement. She probably knows more about them than they know themselves. Most of it was made up out of the scraps that she actually saw, of course. They certainly would not recognize Genevieve’s version of them.
“Good evening, Genevieve!” Bella said cheerfully. She had, from the beginning, refused to call her stepmother by that name or any other that would not put her on equal footing with the woman. From the time she had been only thirteen, she’d been running her father’s household. When the new stepmother arrived on the scene she had known enough to be cautious about the other woman’s position. “Wait until you see what I have found for you tonight!”
Whatever irritated or insulting thing Genevieve might have been prepared to say died on her lips, and she leaned forward eagerly, the ribbons and lace on her nightcap trembling with anticipation. “What do you mean, for me, Bella, dear?” she asked instead.
“I mean I know your taste, so I dedicated this evening to finding things just for you. After all, I can have a rummage whenever I want.” She sat on the tall stool the maid provided for her. “Thank you, Elise,” she acknowledged, and cradled the basket in her lap, removing the cloth that covered it. “Now, here is the first piece. Did you ever see such a lace flounce! It will make a splendid fall from a high collar, and this little bit of narrow stuff matches it, see?” She put the two together. “So, perfect for a winter gown to protect the throat from drafts, with the flounce guarding your delicate chest. Yes?”
Genevieve’s hands caressed what really was a magnificent fall of softly pleated lace. “There was only the one?” she asked.
“Only the one. I think it was a sample. And here is a mother-of-pearl flower to pin it with.” Bella placed the carving among the ruffled lace. “And since I think it would be a dreadful shame to have such a lovely winter gown and not go somewhere in it, here is a matching box for your medicines.” A matching, carved comfit-box joined the growing pile. “You might get too warm, seated by a fire, and I found a fan with mother-of-pearl sticks.” A white silk fan with simple iridescent guards and sticks, riveted with silver, joined the rest. “And here are some samples of fabric that I thought might make a lovely gown to go with all this. I checked and there are enough to make up into a single gown. And last of all—” She pulled out lovely ermine skins and laid them on the counterpane. “Here you are—the makings of the finest tippet in the city. I don’t think the Queen would be able to boast of such a fine piece.”
Genevieve’s mouth made a pleased little O and she caressed the furs with pleasure while she and Bella discussed which of the fabric samples would be best for what purpose.
Or rather, she dictated, Bella noted it all down on scraps of paper, which she pinned to the samples, and said very little. But after all, the gown wasn’t for her, was it?
And if she thought it was a touch overdone, well, she wouldn’t have to wear it.
“Here you are, Elise,” Genevieve said at last, sweeping it all into the basket again and giving it into the hands of her maid. “Make sure it’s all taken care of in the morning.”
“Yes, Mistress,” the maid replied, with a little curtsy. And she would, too. Snobby Elise might be, but she was very efficient.
She would also make sure that at least one length of the rejected fabric was sent for and found its way into her possession, where she would skillfully create a gown of her own from it. Elise was the best-dressed ladies’ maid in the city; this was not the first time such a thing had happened.
As Elise left the room with the basket, the twins swept in with their treasures. These were more modest finds: embroidered kerchiefs, a necklace of her namesake stone for Amber, another carved mother-of-pearl brooch for Pearl, furs to make muffs and a lined bonnet for skating.
This, of course, led to “And as we were coming home, Bella said there would be snow and the ponds would be frozen soon!” and pleas to be allowed to attend skating parties. “We’re old enough now!” Pearl asserted.
With calculation, Bella had presented her finds. Now Genevieve would have a reason to wear a magnificent new, warm gown. She could attend the skating party and retire with the other parents when she got the least bit chilled, leaving the twins with their governess.
Which led to something all the doctors had told Bella, and which she had not told anyone, not even her father—although she was sure he knew it very well, and that they had been telling him this at least weekly for a long time. “More outdoor air will cure that headache faster than any medicine, and more outdoor exercise will mean less stiffness and fewer aches.”
So Bella left the twins chattering to their mother, all three of them as animated as she had ever seen them. She smiled to herself as she closed the door to her room. That should keep all three in good spirits for at least three weeks.
And that is all to the good for me!
2
AS USUAL, BELLA WAS UP AT DAWN; SHE, AND NOT Genevieve, was the one who was truly in charge of the household, and had been, more or less, since her own mother died when she was ten — roughly half her life now that she thought about it. Not that there was an inordinate amount of work to be done; the servants were all good, reliable and mostly managed things very well. Still, someone had to be in charge, or there would be all manner of jockeying for the right to have the last say in things; that was just the way that people worked.
Getting up at dawn just was not a hardship when you didn’t attend parties that went long into the night, didn’t linger at dances until you were exhausted and didn’t indulge in too much rich food and wine that kept you up all night. In the winter it wasn’t fun, certainly — it was cold and dark, and until you got the fires going again, you had to bustle about the house bundled up to your eyes. But that was more than made up for by glorious spring and summer mornings when everything was cool and fresh and smelled delicious, and the very air was as intoxicating as any wine.
When the household — downstairs at least — was up and functioning, Bella went back to her room and bundled into her bed. Not to sleep — this was when she did the household accounts, with a nice cup of hot sweet tea and a buttered muffin.
By the time she was done, the fires had warmed the house and it was no longer a trial to be up and doing.
When she had approved the menus for the day, unlocked the wine cellar, mildly scolded the boy who cleaned the fireplaces for carelessness that had nearly ruined a rug and praised the scullery maid who had saved it, checked the pantries, approved the shopping list and paid the tradesmen’s bills, it was time for Genevieve, Pearl and Amber to wake. She liked to be out of the house by then, as it allowed Genevieve the illusion that she had the ordering of the household, as the housekeeper presented her with menus and shopping lists she never read, bills that had already been paid and a vague report on the servants. Sometimes Bella had heard Genevieve boasting — or sighing — about all the work she was put to in order to keep the household in order, and she had just shaken her head.