Chapter I
The Crofter's Daughter
Bessie, come back!" Fifteen year old Bridget Crofter ran along the banks of the river on the edge of their village. "Bessie!"
Ahead of her a seven year old free spirit was twirling around under the early springtime sunlight, her wild curls bouncing beneath a daisy chain crown. The hand-me-down dress that she wore trailed on the grass, the hem stained with mud.
"Bess Crofter!" Her sister shrieked.
But the little one was giggling, like a peal of silver bells, as she darted away and it was nearly half an hour later when Bridget finally captured her unruly sibling.
"What do you think you're doing?" She puffed, snatching her around the waist to stop her escaping again. "Pa wants you home."
The young girl stared up at her sister with those impossibly large eyes of hers; a murky blue so dark that it could have been black. Then she pulled a crooked grin, aching with mischief. "The sun was out." Was all she said.
Bridget gazed despairingly at her. "Whatever will I do with you Bessie?" She toyed with the daisies atop at hair, and smiled softly.
"You must never behave in a manner which may reflect poorly on the Lord and Lady of this house. You must be the incarnation of virtue, dignity and discretion." The steely eyes of Lady Eleanor Ginston, the first mistress and housekeeper of the Hertford household, surveyed each new maid meticulously. "If I deem you unworthy of a permanent place in my maid service, in the case that any imprudence be brought to my attention, then you will be immediately and indefinitely dismissed from my Lady's home. Is that clear?" The four women curtsied graciously. "Very well then, be about your duties and when my Lady returns you shall be introduced."
The women went to move away, head bowed neatly, and hands linked at their fronts, but Lady Eleanor gave one pause.
"What is your name, girl?"
She hesitated and then looked up to meet her gaze with blue-black eyes the size of duck eggs. "Bess, milady."
Lady Eleanor tilted her head, aging eyes narrowed. "You are not of noble blood."
"Unfortunately not, milady, I have only the good grace of being a crofter's daughter." Her gaze fell back to the ground, shoulders slightly rolled forward; the general posture lacking the appearance of a lady of court.
"Bess Crofter, then." It was no question, and the young woman did not mistake it for so. She dipped her head in answer. "Well I do not believe a simple workman's daughter has any place awaiting the sister in law of the Queen of England. Who offered you such a position, may I ask?"
"It was the Lady Hertford's distant cousin, Margaret, milady. She took residency in the town beside where I grew up, as a teacher at the local school. At the time it was my wish to become a scholar also and the lady graciously took me under her wing to learn the trade. However, in order to learn I would have had to relinquish any paid work I could have performed to aid my family. After the death of my mother, my family could simply not afford me that pleasure. Miss Margaret heard of my troubles and recommended me for this household service."
"You speak well for a plain village girl, I will award you that. If it was indeed a relative of my Lady's own blood that afforded you this position I am inclined to give it to you. But be wary Bess Crofter, I will be watching you closely."
"I would expect nothing less, milady." Then the girl curtsied awkwardly.
Lady Eleanor pursed her lips disparagingly.
In the time that followed Bess Crofter found herself ill at ease in her new life, despite the kindness of the other maids unto her. Under their tuition she learned card games and how to dress and take care of the Lady's courtly gowns. They were very sweet but every so often one would make a comment she didn't understand, and the others would titter and then chastise.
It was only two days after Bess's appointment that the Lord and Lady of Hertford returned to their original dwelling in order to settle affairs and organise the remainder of their things to be brought to court. On the day they were due to arrive the weather was colder than it had been in a very long time. Storm clouds clumped thickly in the darkened skies, weighted with fat rain drops not yet released. The household were required to await the carriages and retinue outside in the courtyard, and the maids were to be dressed impeccably by order of Lady Eleanor.
When they were appointed to the Hertford service each maid servant had been given two sets of clothing that they may wear during work. Simple gown for when attending the Lady in her own chambers, an everyday dress that must be kept clean and starched at all times. It was dark blue with lacings up the spine and sweeping skirts. But even this plain garment was finer than anything Bess had possessed at the farm. The other was deep burgundy red, used only for when the Lady was entertaining prominent figures in their presence, or for important courtly affairs such as Christmas or New Year. Any other clothes that Lady Eleanor deemed appropriate were given permission to be brought along as well. The maids were expected to supply their own nightgowns, shoes, and any other jewels or embellishments they so wished. However from Bess's modest beginnings she had only a few dresses of her own, and only one pair of simple leather shoes, so her wardrobe fell very short of the finery the other maid servants owned. When she had packed her things into a trunk for the journey, one of the girls had snorted with giggles. Her name was Isabel, and she had apologised immediately afterwards. Bess did not begrudge her for it; these women were from wealthy noble families and owned dresses and gems that the farm girl could have only dreamed of.
The household lined up outside to greet their master and his guests. The maid servants dressed in their blue gowns. The others with heavy furs or fine cloaks draped around their shoulders, their hair coiled up and decorated with jewelled headbands or pieces. But Bess was not permitted to wear her worn roughspun cloak, one that betrayed her heritage as a crofter's daughter, and so shivered bare in the cold. Her long, thick waves of dark hair being her only embellishment. They were pulled up into a braided twist, dangling over one shoulder so it reached the waist.
As the retinue made its grand entrance into the courtyard of the Hertford Manor, Bess found herself unable to keep her eyes on the ground. Vibrant banners flew in the breeze, the brilliant colours so bright and vivid. The gold wrought on the skeleton of the Lady's wheelhouse snatched flashes on chilled late afternoon sunlight, and as she emerged from it she shimmered like an angel itself. In all her life Bess had never seen anything so fine. The precious stones that clustered at her ears and throat shone so beautifully the young crofter's daughter had to squint to view them properly. The swirling skirts of her emerald green gown flowed like liquid as she climbed down from the steps of her carriage.
A seven year old free spirit was twirling around under the early springtime sunlight, her wild curls bouncing beneath a daisy chain crown. The hand-me-down dress that she wore trailed on the grass, the hem stained with mud.
Maybe it was easier then, Bess thought, easier to dream about nobility when it was so far in the distance than when she could almost touch it and know it would never be hers.
The 1st Earl of Hertford remained seated atop the magnificent chestnut stead, and it was only upon being caught in those handsome, icy eyes of his that Bess could avert her gaze. Her eyes flickered around on the ground, her lips pressed together to prevent her breathing from thickening. The household bowed. Bess noticeably less gracefully than the other women and embarrassment tumbled down her spine uncomfortably.
"Lady Ginston," The Lady of Hertford greeted as she approached. "Wonderful presentation as ever." She turned her gaze upon the bent backs of the ladies. "These are my new serving maidens then, let me look upon you."
Slowly Bess straightened and could not allow herself to glance along the line to view her mistress properly. The Lady touched each of their hands as she was introduced formally to the women. She repeated their names in turn; Elizabeth, Isabel, Jane, and then it was her. Bess, Bess Crofter. Not the name of a noble girl, not good enough to serve at court. There was a pause in the courtyard as the girl curtsied clumsily once more.
"Well, who have we here?" The Lady's voice was gentle and amused, but Bess dare not look up.
"Bess, milady, Bess Crofter."
There was a brief silence, "Why do you look so senselessly ashamed Bess, Bess Crofter?" She chuckled lightly, "There is no fault with simple beginnings, and particularly not when mine own blood is one who has foundered your advances. Do not fear Mistress Crofter, serve me well and I do imagine we shall be good friends."
"Thank you Lady Hertford."
After their encounter as the Lady swept away at the arm of her elegant, wintry-eyed husband and the handmaidens were expected to fall in behind them. The young woman bowed her head as neatly as she could, painfully aware of peoples' eyes on her back.
The Lord and Lady of Hertford were due to dine with the Lord's brother and a close knit group of family friends that evening. It was to be the first official dinner that the serving maids would be attending on. In the early evening the women were taken by a game of cards with the mistress, and then dressed her in fine clothes and jewellery. It was a tricky business, what with all the layers and lacing and corsetry. The Lady was civil and quick to laugh but there was ice in her eyes too; more subtle than that of her husband, but it was there none the less. It was ambition, Bess realised. That is the look that court installs in your eyes, when you are so close to everything you want.
The Lady had selected a gown of heavy dusky pink samite, with a dangerously low neckline and daggered sleeves. Around her neck a choker of pearl, diamonds and precious pink stones was wound, with matching collections in her earlobes. Isabel and Jane brushed out her chocolate coloured hair and twisted it into a fashionable knot, before fastening a jewelled headdress atop it. She surveyed herself in a gilded looking glass before nodding in approval.
"Very well done, Ladies. I trust you will serve me adequately at court." Then she rose form her seat to face them. "And you Miss Crofter, what pray are your talents if they are not in the art of appearance?"
The girl bowed her head, "Milady, I have had little opportunity to pursue any talent other than that of farm work or house work. I am able, therefore, to scrub and cook and nurture horses, but little less."
"Come now, you speak better than any crofter's daughter I have ever heard. Why is that?"
"I had schooling, Milady. I can read and write and keep sums, which is a much-praised ability in my home town but I assume common place here."
The Lady considered this, tilting her head. "Can you sing?"
"No, milady."
"Do you play any instruments?"
"No, milady."
"No singing, no playing, no card games…whatever am I to do with you?" The girl remained silent with a bowed head. She had no answer. The Lady laughed. "We shall see I suppose." Then she strode towards the door. "I will attend my husband and guests now and you will join us when the time arrives for supper to be served. You will not speak, you will not disgrace me."
The women curtsied, "Yes my Lady." "Yes, milady."
The Lady took three slow steps until she was nose to nose with Bess. "Now now Miss Crofter, I may find such vocabulary slurs somewhat quaint but I assure you that my Lord husband and the people at court will not. So as long as you are in my presence you will speak properly."
"I apologise mi- my Lady, I would never wish for the ignorance of my birth to offend or humiliate you."
"Trust me when I say, I will make sure it never does."
With a swirl of sunset pink and twinkling gems the Lady of Hertford was gone.
"Do not fear Bessie, she means no harm by it I am sure." It was Isabel that spoke.
She placed the Lady's fine brush down on the dressing table softly, "I hope you are right. I must endeavour to prove my worth this evening nevertheless and then the Lady may choose to keep me in her service, no matter how base born I am."
"No doubt you are right." Isabel caught her arm and turned her around. "Come, your dress is poorly fastened, let me assist you."
"Are you excited to wait upon a noble table, Bess?" Elizabeth asked.
"More than anythi-aahh!" The gasp cut sharply through the room and Bess squirmed. "That is too tight Isabel!"
"Nonsense." The laces snapped even tighter. "You want to impress the Lady, don't you?"
Bess's knuckles whitened as she grasped the edge of a nearby chair to steady herself. Then nodded shakily.
"I want only to impress the Lord," Elizabeth giggled as she twirled a piece of hair around her finger, "Or perhaps his brother. I have heard they are ever so handsome."
Isabel slapped at her arm, "Elizabeth, God be good, you gush like a moonstruck young girl!" But she chuckled none the less at the other girls joking pout.
"Oh no!" The women turned to look at Jane. "My second trunk has still not been delivered. I was so hoping to wear my green velvet gown this evening to officially meet the Lord. I have nothing to wear but this." She pulled at the skirts of her blue serving dress despairingly. Then looked up and rushed to Bess's side. "Sweet Bess please would you run to the stables and ask of it for me?"
"Erm, yes, yes I suppose I could." The young girl looked flustered and confused.
"I would go myself of course, but we have so little time and I wanted to rebind my hair before dinner." She gazed at Bess with wide brown eyes pleadingly.
"Very well, Jane. I will hurry back." She smiled and turned for the door.
"Thank you Bess, you are so very kind to me."
Pulling open the great doors below the Lady's chambers Bess stepped into the open air, the wind sinking greedy teeth into her bones the moment she ventured outside. The swollen sky seemed to churn queasily and then spit out the rain it carried. Within the minutes it took to cross the courtyard Bess was soaked to her skin. With a gasp of worry and distress the youth pulled up her skirt hastily in an attempt to stop the muddy ground marring its beauty. The worn leather of her supple boots splashed through forming puddles as she ran. Loose tendrils of hair flattened to her skin as they drank in gulps of rain, and the long braid that bounced against her bodice darkened in colour. Then suddenly she was ducking under the stable roof, breast heaving with quickened breath and fat droplets sliding down her face.
She could see no movement, save from the horses, in any of the stalls. "Hello?" There was only the sound of falling water that greeted her. "I am here to ask about the trunk of Mistress Jane of the Lady Hertford's handmaidens. Hello?" Bess walked the length of the stable, attempting to wring some water from her braid. "Is anybody here?" Shaking her head the girl crossed back through the courtyard, skidding on some wet ground and half falling. The palms of her hands were scratched as small stones raked them, and it stung awfully. As she stumbled six inches of her skirt was dunked into a muddy puddle. By the time she leapt back beneath the shelter of the manor roof that Bess sighed. Fat droplets seeped from her hair and onto her face; she brushed them off with irritation.
"Jane, nobody was there, I'm sor-" Bess halted, her sodden fingertips still on the handle of the door. The beautiful maiden before her was swathed in rich forest green velvet with a neckline of pearls. Her chestnut coloured hair was caught in a coil of delicate plaits above her head. Jane's lips quirked in a strange sadness.
"Oh Bess, I'm afraid I was mistaken, the trunk was here all along."
The girl's hands flattened her bodice self-consciously, "No matter, I can change my dress it is nothing."
"Oh Bessie, there is no time. We must away to the dining hall immediately."
"But-!"
Jane snatched her by the arm to pull her with them out of the chamber doors. "No buts. We must not be late."
Then Bess saw Jane and Elizabeth exchange a smirk. She was sure of it.