There is a dressing room as well? Amid a swathe of linen towels on the polished boards, an embossed leather screen gave privacy in a corner and presses and drawers stood empty, waiting for her new clothes to fill them.
‘They are on their way up, Miss Meredith.’ Peters came bustling in, a robe draped over her arm, and shooed Alessa behind the screen. ‘I’ll just undress you, miss.’
‘Oh! No, I can manage.’
‘But your stays, miss?’
‘I do not wear them.’ Alessa began to unlace her bodice, slipped it off and unhooked her waistband, stepping out of the wide black skirt to stand in front of the bemused maid in petticoats and blouse. She untied her garters and unbuckled her sturdy black shoes, rolling down the white stockings before a thought struck her. ‘What about shoes?’
Peters seemed too stunned by the revelation about stays to take in what was being asked. ‘Shoes, miss? Oh, kid sandals, I should think, with this gown.’
‘I do not have any shoes, other than ones like this, Peters.’
‘’Strewth, miss.’ They both regarded Alessa’s bare feet. ‘They are a bit big…I mean, a bit bigger than the other young ladies.’
‘I am on them a great deal,’ Alessa said ruefully.
‘I don’t mean they’re enormous, miss. I could lend you some of my indoor shoes and then the sempstress could tell the shoemaker to come out, when she gets back.’ Peters hitched up her skirts and placed one foot next to Alessa’s.
‘A perfect match. Thank you, Peters.’ She began to unbutton the blouse, feeling curiously shy. The maid was used to undressing and dressing ladies, it was her job. But it felt so strange to be waited on.
‘Miss Meredith?’ Peters ran appreciative fingers over the fine white-work on the sleeves before folding the blouse over her arm. ‘Can I ask, miss, why you haven’t…I mean, I don’t want to pry or anything.’
The thud of feet over the boards heralded the entrance of footmen with hot-water jugs. Alessa waited until they had finished, then stepped out of her petticoats and handed them to the maid. ‘No, I do not mind questions, Peters. I will tell you about why I am here on Corfu, and you may tell the other servants too, if they should ask.’
The tale lasted until Alessa had taken her bath and was swathed in a large towel. Everything she had related was true, except for her role with the laundry of the Commission’s ladies and the fact that she knew Lord Blakeney.
‘Coo!’ Peters’s eyes were wide. ‘That’s just like one of those novels, miss, ever so exciting. No wonder you haven’t got the clothes.’
‘And I do not know much about how to go on in society either, Peters. I am going to have to rely on you to make sure I am wearing the right things all the time.’
‘Right, miss. Well, it’s a chemise first and then the stays.’ Alessa’s expression must have registered, for the maid chuckled. ‘You won’t get into these gowns unless you lace, miss, but I won’t do it too tight, don’t you worry.’
Alessa walked downstairs an hour later, convinced that if this was loose lacing, then she would faint if Peters tried anything tighter. But the effect on her bosom was startling, even under a carefully draped fichu, and it certainly made one slow down and walk with elegance. Used to rushing everywhere, Alessa felt a little like a hobbled mule.
Peters had brushed out her hair and braided, pinned and pleated until it bore as close a resemblance to a fashionable style as possible without the attentions of a hairdresser and hot irons, and Alessa had stared back in wonder at the stranger with her face in the glass.
Even Wilkins unbent a touch as she reached the foot of the stairs. The butler emerged as though by magic and smiled primly. ‘Very nice, Miss Meredith, if I may be so bold as to comment. Quite the transformation scene. The ladies are in the front reception room.’
Thank goodness, only the ladies. The thought of meeting Chance again under Aunt Honoria’s critical eye was daunting, although it had to be faced sooner or later.
Music flowed from the half-open door. Alessa slipped in and regarded the scene unobserved. Lady Trevick was reading a journal and Lady Blackstone was writing at a desk in the window embrasure. On the other side of the room Maria Trevick picked her way through an air on the piano and her sister Helena and Frances Blackstone appeared to be trying to make something out of cardboard and sewing silks.
Then the girls glanced up and saw her. ‘Oh, Cousin Alexandra—you are here!’ Frances jumped to her feet, her slightly plump face beaming, and Maria lifted her hands from the piano keys.
‘Ah, welcome, my dear.’ Lady Trevick’s assessing gaze transformed into a smile of approval. ‘How nice you look. Is your room to your taste?’
‘It is delightful, ma’am. And I must thank Miss Trevick and Miss Blackstone for lending me clothes, and for the help of the maid.’ She glanced across to where Lady Blackstone had laid down her quill and was studying her. ‘Good morning, Aunt Honoria.’
‘Good morning, Alexandra. I must say you look very well, very well indeed. Did Peters tell you that the dressmaker is coming this afternoon?’
‘Yes, Aunt Honoria, thank you.’ What was she expected to do now?
‘Do you play the piano?’ Maria was at her side.
‘No, I am afraid I play no instrument. You seem to be very accomplished.’
‘Thank you. Never mind about not being able to play—the practise is an awful bore, so just be glad you have escaped that. Although…’ she lowered her tone, leading Alessa towards the table and the other two ‘…it is very good for flirting with gentlemen when they turn the music for you.’