March 1850
'Are we nearly there?' Esme turned from watching the
countryside flying past the carriage window at a speed that
would have frightened her had she been a young lady given to
attacks of the vapours, which she certainly was not.
It was not her first ride in a train because she had
travelled by this means the short distance from her home in
Luffenham to Leicester to visit her married sister, Lucy,
but that went at the pace of a snail. This was the first
time she had undertaken such a long journey, and without her
parents, too. Lucy had intended to accompany her, but
five-year-old Harry had gone down with a cold and she would
not leave him. So here she was, being escorted by her
brother-in-law, who had business in town, and Miss
Bannister, her old governess, who was going to act as
companion and maid.
'Not long now,' Myles told her. 'Are you tired?' 'Not
especially, I'm simply impatient to arrive.' Papa had said
he could not give her a Season—at least, not one befitting
the daughter of the Earl of Luffenham—and she would have to
take her chances on finding a husband among the local
gentry, which would be very nearly impossible. She knew them
all and there wasn't one she liked well enough to want to
spend the rest of her life with. The whole family talked
about it, arguing to and fro as if they were talking about
what to do with a problem servant. Both Lucinda and Rosemary
had had come-out seasons and it didn't seem fair that Esme
should be deprived of one, for how else could she find a
suitable husband? In the end, Rosemary, who was married to
Rowan, Viscount Trent, and lived in a smart mansion in
Kensington, had persuaded her husband to provide the
wherewithal. Esme could not wait to see what social
occasions had been arranged for her.
At nineteen, the youngest of the Earl of Luffenham's
three daughters, Esme was as excited as a child. With her
flawless skin, rosy cheeks and big blue eyes, she looked
younger than her years—a state of affairs she was anxious to
correct. She was a young lady, a marriageable young lady,
and she wished everyone would not treat her like a
schoolgirl. Mama and Papa and Lucy had spent the whole of
the day before giving her advice on how to behave. 'Do this.
Don't do that. Remember you are a lady. Be courteous and
friendly, but do not allow any of the gentlemen to whom you
are introduced to take liberties.' She wasn't quite sure
what they meant by liberties; she supposed kissing her would
be one. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by a
man, but she hadn't dared ask.
The journey had begun very early when they boarded the
local train at Luffenham Halt to take them to Peterborough,
where they changed on to the London train. It was all made
easy for them because Myles was someone important in the
railway world; porters and guards and everyone working on
the railway, fell over themselves to ease his passage. But
even so, sitting in a closed carriage for five hours was
about as much as she could bear.
'Another few minutes,' he said. 'We are slowing down
already.'
She turned her attention back to the window and realised
they had left the countryside behind and there were
smoke-begrimed buildings on either side of the line. A
minute or two later they drew into the Maiden Lane terminus
and the platform came into view with people standing about,
perhaps to meet others coming off the train, perhaps to
board it for its return journey. Porters scurried here and
there, carrying luggage, mysterious parcels, boxes of
cabbages and crates of squawking chickens. A dozen empty
milk churns stood ready to be sent back whence they came, no
doubt to be returned full the next morning.
They stopped in a hiss of steam and the door of their
carriage was opened by a porter. Myles stepped down, then
turned to help her. She remembered just in time that she was
supposed to be a decorous young lady and resisted the
temptation to jump down on to the platform and allowed him
to hand her down. Miss Bannister followed while he was
giving instructions to the porter about the delivery of
their luggage.
Esme felt firm ground beneath her feet; she was here at
last, in the great metropolis. The excitement bubbling up in
her was hard to contain, but overexuberance was one of the
things Mama had warned her against, so she walked sedately
beside Myles as they left the station and he hailed a cab to
take them to Kensington. Familiar only with Leicester and
Peterborough, the two towns nearest her home, the city
seemed never ending: warehouses, shops, poky little houses
and grand mansions in juxtaposition lined their route, and
then a long wide avenue running alongside a park.
'That's Green Park,' Myles told her. 'Buckingham Palace
is on the far side of it. We'll come to Hyde Park soon.
That's where the Exhibition is going to be held next year.'
He leaned forward and pointed. 'That's the Duke of
Wellington's house.'
'Shall I meet him?'
'I don't know. You might.'
'But he is your friend?'
'He is certainly an acquaintance, I would not be so
presumptuous as to claim him for a friend.'
'Shall I meet Prince Albert? Will he be present when I
make my curtsy?'
'Goodness, child, I don't know.'
'I am not a child, Myles. You sound just like Banny.'
He grinned ruefully at Miss Bannister while addressing
Esme. 'Then I beg your pardon. I shall remember in future to
address you as my lady.'
'Now you are being silly.'
Nothing could repress her for long and she was soon
smiling again. A few minutes more and the cab driver turned
into a wide street lined with imposing town villas and
pulled up outside one of them. 'Trent House,' he announced.
Myles got out, handed Esme down and then her companion.
He was always courteous and polite to Miss Bannister and
treated her like a lady, for which he received her undying
support.
Esme was standing uncertainly, looking about her, when
the front door of the nearest house was opened and her
sister, in a dove-grey dress and white cap, stood waiting to
greet her. Esme started to run to meet her, but remembered
in time that running was not ladylike and walked to the
door.
'Here at last.' Rosemary offered her cheek to be kissed.
'Did you have a good journey?'
'Yes, very good, but I'm so glad to be here.'
'You are very welcome, sister dear.' And to Myles,
offering her hand, 'Myles, welcome. Come along in. I'll take
you to your rooms, then when you have settled in, we shall
have some refreshments and you shall tell me all the news
from home.'
Ignoring Miss Bannister, she led the way into an imposing
entrance hall and up a flight of stairs. 'The drawing room,'
she said, waving at a closed door. 'And that's the dining
room. The door farther along is the small parlour where we
sit when we are alone. That's where I shall be, so come
there when you are ready.' On she went up a second flight of
stairs. 'Bedrooms on this floor,' she said, flinging open a
door. 'This one is yours, Esme. I have put Miss Bannister
next door, for your convenience. Myles, a room has been
prepared for you at the far end of the corridor.' She
pointed at a farther flight of stairs. 'Nursery suite and
servants' quarters up there, though they have their own
staircase. That's it, except for the ground floor, which
contains anterooms, a large room we use for dancing, soirées
and suchlike, the library and Rowan's study. I'll show you
those later.'
Miss Bannister and Myles left them and Rosemary followed
Esme into her room and sat on the end of the bed to watch as
her sister removed her gloves, cloak and bonnet to reveal a
tiered skirt in a soft blue wool. It was not new. Nothing
she had was brand-new. 'Esme, did you have to wear that
dress?'
Esme smoothed her hands over her waist. 'What's wrong
with it? Mama said it was perfectly adequate for
travelling.'
'It's years old. I remember you having that when I was
still at home.' She stopped speaking to answer a knock at
the door. Two footmen had arrived with Esme's trunk. They
were waved inside and told to put it on the floor at the
foot of the bed. They had no sooner gone than Rosemary had
it open and was pulling out the contents. 'Esme, I could
swear this was Lucy's jacket. And this skirt.' She delved
deeper into it. 'And this gown…' 'So they are—Mama said no
one would ever know.' 'Haven't you brought any clothes of
your own?' 'Not many,' Esme confessed. 'They are all so old
and some of them are too short for a young lady and Lucy
said I could have these. She has grown a little plumper
since she had Vicky and they are the very best materials. We
hardly had to alter anything, except to shorten them. Lucy
is inches taller than I am.'
'Whatever was Mama thinking of, to send you with nothing
but hand-me-downs? You'll never find a husband that way.'
'No one knows they are hand-me-downs.'
'Myles knows.'
'Of course he does, but he's family, and Lucy asked him
if he thought it was all right for me to have them and he
said they were her clothes and she could give them to
whomever she pleased.'
'He would.' There was a deal of meaning in those two
words and conveyed perfectly what Rosemary thought of her
brother-in-law. He was an upstart, a nobody, for all he was
Lord Moor-croft's heir; it was a new peerage and meant
nothing at all, except that the working classes were
aspiring to become nobility, which they never could do. They
did not have the breeding. She tolerated him, even managed
to be polite and treat him like an equal, but that was for
Lucy's sake, not his. 'I can't take you out and about unless
you are dressed appropriately. Whatever will people think of
me?'
'I shouldn't think they will think anything of it.' Esme
had forgotten how repressing Rosie could be. Nothing and
nobody was good enough; even her poor husband was bullied
into conforming to her ways.
'Nevertheless, you shall have a new wardrobe. Thank
goodness the Season hasn't started yet and there will be
plenty of choice in the shops and dressmakers with little
enough to do.'
'I am sure Papa cannot afford it. He has been lecturing
us for years about not being extravagant and it's got worse
since he lost money investing in the Eastern Counties
railway.'
'More fool him for doing it. No doubt he listened to
Myles.'
'It wasn't Myles's fault, he advised against it. I
believe it was Viscount Gorridge, though his lordship cannot
have taken his own advice because he is richer than ever.'
'Well, whatever it was, you are going to have new
clothes. Rowan will pay. He always gives me whatever I ask
for.'
'Aren't you lucky,' Esme said, which made her sister look
sharply at her, but there was no malice in Esme's
expression.
'Yes, I am.' She went to the door to the adjoining room.
'Miss Bannister, Esme requires your help changing her
dress.' To Esme she said, 'Hurry up. I've lots to tell you.
And I want to hear how Mama is.' And with that she took her
leave.
Esme turned to look at the room. It had a large canopied
bed, a huge walnut wardrobe, a table and two upright chairs,
a little desk with another chair, a chest of drawers and,
beside the bed, a bookcase containing several matching
books. She went over to the window, which had view of a
park, neat gardens and a stretch of water.
'Did you hear all that?' she asked Banny, who had joined
her.
'Yes.'
'She made me feel like a poor relation. I was so pleased
when Lucy gave me those clothes; they fit me very well and I
do not feel such a schoolgirl in them. I am not a schoolgirl
and I do hope that Rosie isn't going to buy me a lot of
silly frilly stuff. I am grateful to her for having me, but
I want to be me, not her baby sister.'
Miss Bannister smiled. 'I think you can stand up to her,
my pet, but take my advice, be diplomatic about it. What
shall you wear now?'
'I don't mind. It's not important if I am going to be
lectured about it.'
Twenty minutes later, washed and dressed in a
green-and-yellow striped jaconet with her hair freshly
brushed and held back with combs, she went down to the small
sitting room to find her sister presiding over the teapot.
Myles was standing looking out of the window. He turned to
smile at her as she entered and she felt at least here she
had an ally.
They drank tea and nibbled little cakes; Myles told
Rosemary all the news of Lucy and young Henry and baby
Victoria and was regaled in turn with the cleverness of
Master John Trent, who had just had his first birthday. Esme
sat and appeared to be listening, but her mind was
wandering. In spite of her defence of Lucy and her gratitude
for the clothes, she was looking forward to having a
wardrobe of her own, something bought and made especially
for her. Shopping would be a rare treat, but after that…
Mama had told her what her own come-out Season had been
like and said all Seasons followed an established pattern.
The first and most important event was her presentation to
the Queen. Along with a long line of others, she would have
to walk sedately into the room without falling over her
ten-foot train and on reaching her Majesty make the deepest
curtsy, until her knee was almost on the floor, and hold
that position while kissing the Queen's hand and bowing her
head. And then she had to get up again without falling over.
The trickiest bit was scooping up her train and making her
way backwards out of the room.
After that she would be well and truly out and could
accept invitations to soirées and routs and balls at which
she would meet many new people, including some young men out
looking for a wife, who would flatter and cajole. She was
not, under any circumstances, to have her head turned by
them. Rosie would say who was and who was not suitable and
whom she could safely encourage.
She came out of her reverie to hear Rosemary saying,
'Esme is a hopeless romantic and is unlikely to make a push
to find a suitable husband herself, so I will have to take
her in hand and point her in the right direction.'
'Is it like a paper trail, then?' Esme asked and was
gratified to see a smile crease Myles's face, which he
quickly stifled.
'Don't be flippant, Esme,' her sister said. 'It is a
serious business. You have to choose a husband carefully
because you have to spend the rest of your life with him.'
'But the same must be said of him, surely? He has to
spend his life with me.'
'It's different for a man.'
'How?'
Rosemary looked discomforted. 'It just is. A man is
looking for a lady to be an asset to his position in life,
someone to be a credit to him, someone to manage his
household, entertain his friends, be a good mother to his
children, look elegant on his arm.'
'What about being in love?'
Rosemary suddenly found it necessary to fiddle with the
tea caddy and it was left to Myles to answer her. 'He must
be in love with his wife and she with him, that goes without
saying, otherwise the marriage is doomed to failure.'
'Well, of course,' Rosemary said, and rang the bell for
the parlour maid to come and remove the tea things. As soon
as they had been taken away, she stood up. 'I always have a
half hour with John about this time before he is put to bed.
Would you like to come and say hallo to him, Esme? Myles, I
am sure you can amuse yourself. There is a newspaper on the
side table. There's little enough news in it, except the
plans for the Exhibition. "The Great Exhibition of the
Industry of All Nations." What a title!'
The proposed exhibition was the brain child of Henry
Cole, a man of many talents, who had been involved in
smaller exhibitions all over the country. He had approached
Prince Albert with the idea of combining the art and
manufacture of the whole world in one enormous exhibition
and his Highness had embraced it enthusiastically and become
its principal patron. It was why Myles had come to town,
invited to a banquet by his Royal Highness and the Lord
Mayor of London aimed at furthering the project among
influential people in the provinces.
Esme followed her sister from the room. She wanted to be
married, like her sisters, but she was not going to let
herself be pushed by Rosemary into marriage with someone she
did not love. Myles had said it was important and so had
Lucy. Lucy had managed to win Papa round to let her marry
Myles who was not at first considered a suitable husband for
the daughter of an earl, being a man who liked to work and
was not afraid to dirty his hands, though he was rich enough
not to have to. Since then he had been a rock for all the
family, the man they all turned to for help and advice—all
except Rosemary, of course. She had never changed her
original opinion of him; he was a labourer, one of the
operative classes and far beneath her. Esme would be happy
if she could find another Myles, but she did not suppose
there could be two such as he.
Having admired her nephew, watched him being petted by
his mother until he dribbled all down her gown and was
hastily handed back to his nurse, Esme returned to her room
to rest before dressing for dinner. At the sound of the
first gong, signalling that dinner would be in a half hour,
Miss Bannister helped her into one of the gowns Lucy had
given her. It was a cerise silk that had suited Lucy, who
was darker than she was, but Esme was not sure that it was
the best colour for her pale complexion, but she would never
have dreamed of hurting her sister's feelings by saying so.
She heard the second gong as she was going down to the
drawing room where she found the family gathered. She barely
had time to greet Rowan before dinner was announced and they
went into the dining room and took their places at the long
table.