Jayne Fresina | Miss Molly Robbins—Lady's Maid Extraordinaire

In my new release, MISS MOLLY ROBBINS DESIGNS A SEDUCTION, the heroine rises up from being a very poor country girl to being...well, you'll have to find out where she ends up, because I don't want to spoil the story for you! But in the course of her adventures she spends a dozen years of her life as a lady's maid. That time takes Molly from childhood, as a little girl of twelve, to womanhood. Her post plays a huge role in the development of her skills and also in the growth of her character, because it leads her into places—and among people— where she would never have gone had she stayed at home all her life in the village of Sydney Dovedale.

A lady's maid was usually a servant required only by a married lady, as housemaids were deemed sufficient help for an unmarried daughter, but in MISS MOLLY ROBBINS DESIGNS A SEDUCTION, Lady Mercy Danforthe is not the sort to let an inconvenient rule like that bother her. When she was only ten she decided she wanted a lady's maid and so she found one. Her brother, Carver Danforthe, the Earl of Everscham, wouldn't dare argue.

Lady Mercy met Molly Robbins and knew immediately that, despite the difference in their backgrounds, they should be friends. Thus she whisked Molly off to London with her as her lady's maid-in-training.

Young Molly must have been quite overwhelmed with her new post. A lady's maid was ranked as an upper servant in the household. She was expected to have an agreeable appearance, good manners and to speak well. She was responsible not only for the cleaning, dying and mending of her lady's garments, but she was also supposed to study fashion and know what suited her mistress. It was important for her to know how to tackle stubborn stains, using anything from fuller's earth and vinegar to dried fowls' dung.

Her first duty each morning was to sweep and dust the dressing room, and light the fire. She would lay out her ladyship's clothes and bring up hot water for the bath or the washbasin— possibly to wash off the Roman Balsam her lady might wear as a night cream (made of bitter almonds, barley flour and honey— eww the mess!). Once the morning ablutions were performed, the lady's maid would help her mistress dress and arrange her hair. But there would be more than one dressing every day, of course. And I'm sure there were many stains to deal with too.

But there were several benefits to being a lady's maid in a fine household, for when garments were given away they would often end up in her possession— although she must never attempt to dress "above her station". A lady's maid might also receive commissions from drapers, milliners and haberdashers patronized by her mistress. She would have the opportunity to travel with her mistress, and was entrusted with the lady's jewelry, as well as her confidences.

So for those twelve years of her life as a lady's maid, Molly Robbins was kept very busy. Her position in the earl's household was not only a stepping stone, but it was also an education. It gave her a window into worlds she never previously knew existed, opened her mind to new possibilities and presented doors to opportunities.

Over the years of her service, quiet, steady, reliable Molly turns out to be far more than a trusted servant— she becomes a companion to Lady Mercy and her best friend.

She also becomes a person of interest to Mercy's brother, the Earl of Everscham.

He's not sure why he can't stop thinking about his little sister's stern and mostly silent lady's maid. She's certainly made it plain to him that he should stop getting ideas— after all she's witnessed his reckless behavior for more than half her life, and heard what people say about him. "Carver Danforthe is very, very bad, and when he's not wicked he's awful." But, even so, when she announces plans to leave his household and become a woman of independent means, he just can't seem to let her go.

Molly is transformed over the course of her story, from a shy, timid "Mouse" (as Carver calls her) to — as I see her—a young lioness. I have a feeling that much of what she learned as a lady's maid will stand her in good stead for the future.

Some might think her story a fairy-tale, but Molly would say she worked hard for her happy ending and managed it without the aid of a fairy-godmother. By the end of the book, she might no longer be a lady's maid, but she will always have that experience to guide her.

The following two recipes are from The Complete Servant (1825) by Samuel and Sarah Adams. These are tricks an excellent lady's maid like Molly would know. Although I would not recommend you try them today!

LADY CONYNGHAM'S LIP HONEY
Take two ounces of fine honey, one ounce of purified wax, half an ounce of silver litharge (er, yes...that's lead) , the same quantity of myrrh. Mix over a slow fire, and add milk of roses, Eau de Cologne, or any other perfume you may prefer.

WASH FOR THE TEETH AND GUMS
Take the juice of half a lemon, a spoonful of very rough claret or port wine, ten grains of sulphate of quinine, a few drops of Eau de Cologne, or oil of bergamot. Mix and keep in a well-stopped phial for use.

PERFUME FOR GLOVES
Take of ambergris one drachm (1/8 oz or 3.6 grams), civet (musk) the like quantity; add flour-butter a quarter of an ounce; and with these well mixed, rub the gloves over gently with fine cotton wool, and press the perfume into them.

Thanks for stopping by! I'll leave you with an excerpt from MISS MOLLY ROBBINS DESIGNS A SEDUCTION.

The trouble with wearing one's best drawers was that nobody else ever got to admire them. As a young woman of frugal sensibilities, that unfortunate fact always grated on Molly's nerves, but there were certain days that required the wearing of elegant underpinnings, even when she was the only soul who knew she wore them—and even though some would consider her "fast" just to be wearing drawers at all.

This was one such day. For Miss Molly Robbins was about to begin a new chapter and hopefully become that rarest of all things: a woman of independent means. Not to put too fine a point upon it, she was about to seize her world by the unmentionables.

Unfortunately, she must first find the courage to walk up a set of grand steps to the pilasters of Danforthe House and pull on that bell cord. Her fancy drawers weren't about to do it for her.

Paused in the street, one hand resting on wrought iron railings, she looked up again, squinting against the rain. Here before her was the elegant Portland stone facade of the house in which she'd lived and worked for just over a dozen years. Within those walls she'd transformed from girl to young woman, emerging like a butterfly from a chrysalis. Perhaps not a butterfly, she reconsidered, more like a dull brown moth. Which was perfectly adequate for her purposes. Not everyone was meant to be a great beauty, and God had given her other talents, which, as her mother had said, would last longer than a pretty face.

Danforthe House looked different today, more forbidding, with dingy, tattered clouds snagged around the chimneys. No sun shone on the windows this morning, and they stared down at her—dark, hollow eyes in a ghostly white face. The master of that house was probably still fast asleep, his cheek stuck to a fat pillow, his mind wallowing in those empty dreams of the rich and idle. But he was in for a surprise. Molly had often thought a few sound shocks might do her former employer some benefit, and she was in a position now to be the purveyor of one such rousing poke in the breeches—another pinprick in his toe. The jaded rake might not be her ideal source of coin, but he was the only one she had. At least, he was the only one from whom she could accept a loan with no danger of him meddling in her spending of it.

Just a week ago he had made his offer, throwing a handful of spice into the bland pudding mixture she stirred with her good intentions.

"Well, Mouse," he'd slurred to her, grabbing a newel post to maintain a semiperpendicular stance as he leaned over her, "ponder my offer and remember—it's your last chance. I'll never make another, and once you're married to that farmer, I shan't be able to help you." He hiccupped, swaying dangerously before her in his fine evening clothes, a lick of dark curl falling over his brow. "The Earl of Everscham never makes propositions to lady's maids, especially those with"—he waved one pointed finger at her nose—"damnably grim faces." Then he turned to the side, tried to take a step up, and missed. They were at the foot of the kitchen stairs, and it was very late. He had come home from an evening at his club and stumbled down to the servants' hall, looking for a glass of cordial water.

How lonely the earl had seemed to her. A lost boy. If she was not there to put her hands on his arm, he would have fallen chin first to the wooden stairs. As she steadied his leaning form, he'd put his gloved hand on her waist—contact that should never have been, after a conversation that should never have taken place. Between master and servant there should always be distance, but in that moment the space was breached, and neither corrected the error.

He had lowered his lips toward her. It was not accidental; she was almost certain.

"Mouse," he'd whispered, staring down at her mouth the way a beggar might stare at a pie shop window. "Do you never smile?"

"Not if it can be helped," she'd replied.

His smoky eyes darkened, and the rugged lines of his face seemed accentuated, sharpened. "Smile at me now, Mouse. I insist. I command."

"I cannot smile at you, my lord."

"Why not?"

"I see nothing amusing to smile at in a grown man who doesn't know his own limits." Since she was leaving his house the next day to be married, Molly had seen no detriment to expressing her opinion. There might even be some worth in it, if he actually paid heed to her words, she thought.

A quizzical line had formed across his brow. He bent over her, one hand still claiming her waist with surprising steadiness for one in his cups.

"Mouse," he said again.

"Yes, my lord?" She'd thought, for one awful moment, that he would ask for something else she could not give. Preparing herself to let him down—possibly the first and only woman ever to do so—she was saved the trouble when he said simply, "Do tell Larkin to make sure he tends my new boots with linseed oil." Hiccup. "They squeak dreadfully."

The spell was broken. Apparently looking at her had reminded the man of his boots.

She could still feel the fine cloth of the earl's sleeve sliding beneath her palm as she'd let her hand linger on his arm. Could still remember the warmth of his flexing muscle.

Squeaking boots indeed!

He was a rake and a cad, tempting her with an offer she should have declined at once. Instead, here she was, having raced back to the wretched man.

Mouse, indeed! She'd teach him a thing or two about mice.

Unfortunately, there were very few things in life that Danforthe took seriously, and he may already have forgotten the promise he made in one of his capricious moods, when he was most certainly in liquor.

But Molly Robbins, sober and strong willed, had not forgotten.

That determined spirit growing inside would not allow her to ignore this chance. Although it should have been housed inside a man, seven foot tall with the shoulders of a prize seed ox, a most obstinate force lived in her lean frame and had suddenly decided to cause a vast deal of havoc, pushing her to be bold. There was nothing she could do about it now; the damage was done. One man was jilted at the altar, an entire village left to gossip about her, and her best friend, Lady Mercy Danforthe, thought she'd discarded her wits as well as her groom. If this plan fell through, she may as well throw herself off Tower Bridge and just hope she didn't float like a cork, which is what happened to witches, according to her brothers, who insisted she was one just because she always knew what they were thinking. As if that should be hard to discern. Men's minds were sheer gauze and just as impractical to make anything out of.

Well, this was it. Once again she'd come too far to go back now. Best get it over with.

MISS MOLLY ROBBINS DESIGNS A SEDUCTION BY JAYNE FRESINA – IN STORES FEBRUARY 2014

She Designs Dresses for London's Leading Ladies...
Molly Robbins is finally stepping into the spotlight. Her unique dress designs have caught the eye of London's elite. And if it means her own dress shop, proper Molly will make a deal with the devil himself—the notoriously naughty Earl of Everscham. But becoming his mistress is not a part of their arrangement. It's right there in the contract's fine print: No Tomfoolery.

He's an Expert at Taking Them Off...
Carver Danforthe has a reputation for beautiful mistresses, cutting remarks, and shirking his responsibilities—not for indulging the ambitions of his sister's maid. He must have been drunk when he signed that blasted contract. The stubborn female may thing she's gotten the best of him, but what this situation calls for is a little hands-on negotiating...

All's Fair in Love and Fashion...

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Historical romance author Jayne Fresina sprouted up in England. Entertained by her father's colorful tales of growing up in the countryside, and surrounded by opinionated sisters, she's always had inspiration for her beleaguered heroes and unstoppable heroines. MISS MOLLY ROBBINS DESIGNS A SEDUCTION is the fourth book in her Sydney Dovedale series. She lives in upstate New York where she is working on a brand new regency romance series, the Book Club Belles Society. Visit www.jaynefresina.com for more information.