13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

“ I ’m going to sort out the music in the music room this morning, Alicia. Will you help me?” Alicia’s mother said to her.

Alicia looked up from her breakfast, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, glancing at her mother in surprise.

“What? Oh… I’m sorry, Mother… I was…thinking…” she said, and her mother sighed.

“Thinking about the school, I suppose,” her mother replied, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s important, Mother – but not just the school. Yesterday, at the soup kitchen…well, I realized the needs of so many,” Alicia replied.

She had been deeply affected by the plight of the poor – the woman with the eight children, those struggling to make ends meet, those without the basics she took for granted. The scale of the tragedy had been overwhelming, and it was no longer only the school she felt obligated towards, but all the poor, whatever their circumstances. Her mother looked at her and sighed.

“You can’t help everyone, Alicia. It’s not possible,” she said, but Alicia was determined to try.

One thing she had noticed was the terrible state of the clothes so many of the children were wearing. It had made her feel terribly guilty to think of her own wardrobes, stuffed full of fashionable dresses she never wore. The thought had led to an idea, and Alicia was going to pay a visit that morning to the modiste where she intended to make a request.

“But I can do more than I’m doing. The soup kitchen feeds them, and now I want to clothe them, too,” Alicia said, for she had a noble ideal, inspired by the example of Ernest, whose dedication to his cause was absolute.

“You’re getting far too caught up in all of this, Alicia. It’s not good for you,” her mother said, but Alicia was not listening.

Her mother was part of an aspirational class, intent on imitating the aristocracy. But she of all people – having come from humble origins – should surely remember what it meant to do without and to feel a sense of uncertainty as to where the next meal or piece of clothing would come from. Alicia knew her privilege, and she was determined to do all she could to use that privilege for the good of others.

“What’s not good for me is doing nothing, Mother. I’ve got to do something. I can’t just…be a young lady,” Alicia replied, even as she knew her mother wanted her to be just that.

“Alicia…why can’t you find a husband?” her mother asked, as Alicia rose from the breakfast table.

It was a question Alicia knew was coming. One she always sought to avoid. Her parents were not pushy when it came to matters of matrimony. But there was an expectation – as there was for any woman of her rank and class – as to what would happen when she reached a certain age. No parent wanted their daughter to remain a wallflower for long, or worse, age into a spinster. Marriage was expected, even if not forced.

“Who says I won’t, Mother?” Alicia replied, and her mother tutted.

“Not amongst the poor, Alicia – am I to have a farmer’s son for a son-in-law?” she called after her, but Alicia was not listening, and leaving the dining room, she asked the butler to summon a carriage for her, before instructing her maid they would be visiting the modiste.

***

“ O h, Alicia, I can’t – I can hardly move,” Lily exclaimed, as Alicia rolled her eyes.

“Please, Lily – won’t you come? She’s far more likely to agree if you’re there. I’m no one. You’re someone,” Alicia said.

She had called on Lily on her way to the modiste, finding her friend in the upstairs sitting room, lying on a chaise lounge, dressed in a flowing red gown, lamenting the child still yet to be born…

“You can have some of my dresses. I’m sure I’ll never fit into any of them again,” Lily said, waving her hand dismissively and sighing.

Alicia’s plan was simple – she would collect the unwanted dresses of the ladies she knew and their acquaintances, cutting them down, and using the material to fashion new garments for those in need. A ballgown could yield enough material to make several different outfits for a child, and given the facts of fashion, Alicia felt certain there were dozens of dresses in every woman’s wardrobe, unwanted and unused.

“I’m sure you will, but it’s Miss Anderson I want to convince. She must have rolls and rolls of material she doesn’t want. If she just gave us something…please, Lily, won’t you come?” Alicia said, and her friend smiled with a look of resignation.

“All right – but I’ll have to sit down,” she said, as Alicia helped her up.

They were soon back in the carriage, making their way into the town. It was a market day, and the streets were busy. But everywhere she looked, Alicia saw need – the beggar on the street, the poor woman ushering along her brood, the blind man with his stick…

“Isn’t it terrible, Lily – so many people have to suffer, don’t they?” she said, and Lily nodded.

“We live in a cruel world, Alicia. It’s worse in London, of course,” she said, as they drew up outside Miss Anderson’s dress shop.

The window contained a display of ball gowns – red and peacock blue, styled in the latest fashion, with high collars and lace sleeves. They contained reams and reams of material, and Alicia imagined taking one apart, and making dresses for all the girls in the family of eight she had helped the day before.

“Good morning, Lady Oakley, good morning, Miss Saunders. How can I help you today?” Miss Anderson asked, as they entered the shop.

She was a large woman wearing a green dress, with a red face and bouffant hairstyle.

“To sit down, Miss Anderson, that’s what I want,” Lily said, and the modiste ushered her towards a chair by the counter.

Alicia looked around her at the rows of dresses, hung on hooks in every color and design. There were rolls of material, too. Some plain, some elaborately patterned, and sold by the length. Her heart was beating fast, for she knew charity was not always something others wished to give.

“And you, Miss Saunders? Are you looking for a new dress?” the modiste asked, and Alicia shook her head.

“No…not quite, Miss Anderson. I was wondering…do you ever have…off cuts…of material, I mean,” she said, and the modiste raised her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” she said, but before Alicia could answer, the door of the modiste opened, and Caroline Pickering entered, accompanied by Florence Digby.

“I really must have a new dress, all these occasions, I can’t be seen with Ernest in…oh, Alicia, Lily, what a surprise to see you here?” Caroline exclaimed, removing a pair of silk gloves, as Miss Anderson hurried to greet her.

“Lady Caroline, how nice to see you. What can I help you with?” she asked, and it seemed she had sensed Alicia’s intention was to ask something of her, rather than buy something from her.

Alicia sighed, glancing at Lily, who raised her eyebrows. The moment was lost, and it seemed Caroline had, again, stolen Alicia’s thunder.

“Oh, nothing much, Miss Anderson. Just a couple of new dresses – something for the day and something for the evening. With the opening of the school, I’m finding myself receiving ever more invitations, and I simply don’t have enough dresses to keep up with them. Don’t you find that, too, Alicia?” Caroline asked, running her hand along the dresses on display, pausing in front of a particularly gaudy one, with a sash of purple lace over the shoulder.

Alicia did not. She had not been invited to anything, and she wondered what these apparent invitations pertained to. Had Ernest invited Caroline to something she was unaware of?

“Perhaps yellow for the day, Lady Caroline – and something darker for the evening. A deeper shade, or even orange,” the modiste said, ignoring Alicia completely now, as Caroline nodded.

“Yes…perhaps…or blue. I do look nice in blue. But see to Alicia first, Miss Saunders. I’d hate to think I was pushing ahead. Are you looking for something specific, Alicia?” she asked.

The modiste turned to Alicia, and Alicia blushed. She had not wanted Caroline to know of her plans to make dresses for the poor girls – she would only interfere, or worse, make the idea her own. But now she had no choice, and she explained her idea to Miss Anderson, who listened with an expressionless face.

“I just thought…well, you might have material left over – from making the dresses, I mean. I could take it from you, and…” she said, stammering under the modiste’s gaze.

It had seemed a good idea at first, but the dressmaker’s expression suggested she was less than impressed.

“Leftover material? I don’t have any leftover material, Miss Saunders. My dresses are bespoke – they’re made to order. I use only the finest silks, the most delicate lace, the softest cotton, taffeta, chiffon, and crepe… I don’t think it would be suitable for…the poor,” she said.

Alicia blushed, realizing she had offended the dress maker’s sensibilities. But to her frustration, Caroline now spoke up in favor of the idea.

“I’m sure we could arrange something, don’t you think so, Miss Anderson? I’ve got so many dresses I don’t know what to do with them. What do you think, Florence?” she said, turning to her friend, who nodded.

“Oh, yes, it’s an excellent idea, Caroline,” she said, and it seemed the viscount’s daughter would now make it her own.

It was always the same – a good idea, turned into Caroline’s own. There was no doubt in Alicia’s mind Caroline would tell Ernest, too, exaggerating her own part in the matter, and leaving Alicia as merely a helper on the side. The modiste nodded.

“Well…if you think so, Lady Caroline,” she said, and Caroline nodded.

“I do, Miss Anderson, and I’ll certainly take your suggestion of the yellow dress with a deeper shade for the evening. And look at these shawls, too – aren’t they exquisite?” she exclaimed, glancing along the display, as Alicia caught Lily’s eye.

Her friend shook her head, but it seemed the matter was settled, Alicia’s idea was now Caroline’s, and there could be no suggestion of anything different. As they left the shop a short while later, Caroline congratulated them both on what was surely to be a true act of charity on their part.

“It’s only the germ of an idea. It’ll all depend on how much material we can get” Alicia said, but Caroline shook her head.

“But an excellent one. I’m so glad we thought of it. I’ll go home at once and go through my wardrobe. Florence can do the same, and we’ll spread the word across the ton. We’ll soon have more dresses than we know what to do with. Then we can have our maids begin unpicking them and have them cut down for the children,” she said.

Her constant use of “we” was grating, but it was always the same with Caroline. She never had an idea of her own, but was skilled in appropriating those of others for her own gain.

“You shouldn’t let her get to you, Alicia. It’s you that does all the work,” Lily said, as the two of them rode home in Alicia’s carriage.

Alicia felt despondent. For once, she wanted to do something on her own, and once again, her plans had been thwarted by Caroline’s interference. She wondered how Caroline would explain the matter to Ernest. She had made mention of invitations and meetings – where were those invitations for Alicia? It felt as though she was missing out on something, denied her rightful place in the plans for the school, even as she had done so much work to further them. Alicia could not help but feel a little sad, even as she reminded herself she was doing this not for greater glory, but for those truly in need.

“I know, but I wonder…it’s Ernest,” Alicia said, and Lily raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t worry about him, Alicia. He’s not…well… I’m sure he isn’t interested in Caroline,” Lily replied.

“Then who is he interested in?” Alicia retorted.

She was growing increasingly confused as to Ernest’s behavior towards her. In person, he was charming, flirtatious, even. He had about him a kindness, one she found endearing. He was handsome, and there was no doubting the affection between them. But such encounters never translated into anything more than cordial relations, and Alicia could not help but wonder what it was holding him back.

“Well… I don’t know…do you want him to be interested in you? Isobel seems to think it’s right for you both. But what about you, Alicia? What have you done to further the prospect?” Lily asked.

Alicia sighed, glancing out of the window, as Burnley Abbey came into sight across the parkland. Lily was right, she had done little to further her own hopes and prospects, even as she felt uncertain what those hopes truly were. Was she falling in love with Ernest? It was all very confusing…

“I suppose… nothing,” she admitted, and Lily groaned.

“Exactly, Alicia – you’ve done nothing. So how can you expect to know his intentions? He probably thinks the same. What are your feelings towards him? If you’re not careful, you’ll find Caroline taking over more than a soup kitchen and a dress making enterprise. She’ll steal the man your affections are so obvious for, and you’ll only have yourself to blame for it. I’ve seen enough by way of scandals to know that,” Lily replied.

Alicia knew her friend was right. Caroline’s sole purpose was to prevent Alicia and Ernest from forming any kind of attachment. She was always there, placing herself between them, and thwarted any attempt on either of their parts to grow closer. Had Ernest intended to make his feelings known, Caroline would have been there – she was the cuckoo in the nest.

“But what can I do about it?” Alicia replied, and Lily pointed her finger at her with a determined expression.

“You can stop her, that’s what. Make Ernest realize what she’s doing. Men never see these sorts of things. But women do. Caroline plays at being your friend. But she’s not. We both saw the way she behaved today. It’s disgraceful. But as I say, Alicia – it’s one thing to steal the glory over a soup kitchen, and quite another to steal the man you’ve fallen in love with,” Lily replied.

Alicia blushed. Lily was never one to mince her words, and she was right. If Alicia wanted something more than to play second-fiddle to Caroline, she would have to act. The viscount’s daughter had already proven herself to be a jealous type, and Alicia had no doubt she would not stand idly by and allow Ernest to slip through her grasp. Beneath her veneer of friendliness, she was a calculating woman, and Alicia knew Caroline believed her to be a rival for Ernest’s affections.

“But he couldn’t possibly prefer her, could he?” she asked, and Lily raised her eyebrows.

“I think it’s best not to give him a chance to, don’t you? Besides, don’t you want to make an effort with Ernest?” she replied, forcing Alicia to confront her feelings, feelings she had tried to hide, not only from others, but herself, too…