Chapter 6
Faith was unused to the feelings that beset her as she sat alone in a small curtained alcove in one of the empty reception rooms at Madame Chambon’s later that evening.
The velvet sofa was comfortable and the gold tasselled curtains opulent and concealing. She was very conscious of the heavy perfume that overlaid the air and looked down at her dress, so unusually plain in contrast.
Perhaps the Failure of Lady Vernon’s latest gambit in thrusting Faith under Mr Westaway’s nose would have Mrs Gedge adopting a new strategy that included dressing Faith a little more fashionably due to the failure of Lady Vernon’s gambit. She’d changed out of her demure blue gown and was wearing one of the other girl’s more tawdry cast-offs. The purple and gold striped dress with its tight skirt, heavily adorned bustle and low neckline would have been perfect had it been in more restrained colouring and made of a better fabric.
“What are you doing here, Faith?”
Faith glanced up as Charity stopped in passing. Her hair was uncoiled and hung in a thick dark curtain over one shoulder. In the dim light her cheeks were flushed and her gown was askew.
Embarrassed, suddenly, Charity straightened her dress. Faith knew Madame Chambon’s ire was easily whipped up by untidiness. She would not house slatterns, Faith had heard her say on many an occasion.
“I fell asleep wearing this and then woke up and couldn’t sleep again. It was too noisy to remain in my room,” she said.
Faith nodded. Daisy who slept next door to Charity and below Faith had been entertaining a very noisy gentleman which was why Faith had retreated to the quietest part of the house.
Charity gave a snide laugh and ran her fingers through her hair. She didn’t look as composed as she usually did. “You should have stayed out longer for I do
n’t think there’s a room unoccupied that isn’t doing a roaring trade tonight. It must be the full moon.” She closed her eyes and but her lip which Faith now saw was trembling. “Consider yourself lucky, Faith, if noise is the extent of your troubles. You’re soon going to be leaving this place and it won’t be a moment too soon.”
Faith ran the tip of her tongue over her lips and hunched forward. “I shall be here longer than I’d hoped. Mr Westaway declined to paint me.” With a few hours to think over the ramifications of her failure she’d become truly afraid. Her belief in her allure had been overblown. She’d misread Mr Westaway, for all he’d been apparently regretful, and now her future was a terrifying void.
“And I don’t mind about the noise.” She knew she was a source of conjecture amongst the other girls. Faith was so privileged, Faith never had to see customers. Faith was kept out of their sight, in fact. She never had to accede to the desire of anyone prepared to pay. Why? To attract a prince, perhaps?
Well, Mr Westaway was far from a prince. He was a privileged, handsome young man, in line for a title but far from the rich bounty that might have been imagined considering her three years of training.
“Charity! Come! Oh, and Faith, you too!” Red haired Mabel appeared in the entrance, her eyes bright with excitement – brandy, too, Faith thought – and beckoned to them, before darting forward to take their hands and pull them after her. “I’ve got something to show you. Well, Mr Schofield has and he’s going to let me work the contraption.”
Mabel was already hustling them towards a small group already positioned for what Faith saw was a posing for a photograph, the hooded camera unmanned before the young man who was apparently Mr Schofield, darted back to his place.
Three of Madame Chambon’s girls giggled in a group while a single elderly gentleman stood just behind them, stroking the hair of a slim dark-haired girl in a green dress. Nell. Faith wondered if this was the gentleman Nell had been so excited might set her up. He looked much older than Faith had been led to believe.
Mr Schofield regarded the scene from his post, frowning, before clapping his hands suddenly and welcoming a new arrival who’d just stepped through the curtain as he pushed Mabel towards the camera.
“Aha, I think we have the numbers. Everybody, assume the waltz position!” He rushed forward, pushing Nell into the arms of the grey haired gentleman, Faith into the arms of the new arrival while he positioned himself with Charity.
“Now, remain very still until I tell you.”
Obediently, Faith remained frozen like a statue while she thought of how Madame Chambon and Mrs Gedge were going to react to her failure.
Mr Westaway was not susceptible at all. Yes, he’d been interested. Clearly. But she’d failed to reel him in.
Why? After all her training.
Training. She shuddered at the term but it was true. She’d attended lessons and, in theory, she knew how to smile and simper at a gentleman. How to entrance them, make them a slave.
Well, this was how it had been described.
Yet, she’d never tried it in real life until now and she’d been patently lacklustre, apparently.
She forced herself back to the present as she became conscious of the light pressure on her waist and holding her hand, while in the background Mr Schofield exhorted them all, “Imagine you’re on the dance floor. Look at your partner. Smile now and don’t move until I give you leave.”
Smile. Maybe Faith had been too restrained, thinking that her silent beauty and enigmatic presence would pique Mr Westaway’s interest when in fact she’d simply failed to register in his consciousness sufficiently.
She blinked away the tears. Madame deplored weakness. She’d make Faith suffer even more if Faith displayed her fear and disappointment. Well, Faith knew how to shine. She tilted her chin, pursed her lips and unleashed her most devastating smile upon the gentleman with whom she was supposedly dancing while she heard Mr Schofield count down the seconds.
Staring at him was a novelty. She’d never stared at a gentleman in such a staged setting for so long and it was interesting to take account of the nuances of the face before her. He was tall and blonde and in his middle to late thirties, with a lean jaw and noticeably blue eyes which bored appreciatively into her.