10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

What’s in a Word

T he sound of the horse hoofs and the wheels tapping a sound on the stones made the carriage ride exhilarating, with the wind against them, and the air clean for a change. The sun shining gave the Town’s people an opportunity to enjoy the day. A nice breeze coaxed ladies’ dresses higher as they walked down the street. People covered the streets like ants coming out of an anthill – walking, horseback, or in open carriages.

As they enjoyed the ride, they passed many acquaintances of the ton . They saw Lords Gifford and Elliot. They waved. It seemed they wished the Maxwell carriage to stop for a quick chat, but the traffic hindered that; besides, Mama would never have allowed it. It would appear the ladies were too easy. The rules of etiquette were so ridiculous, but nothing could be done, but abide by them.

Miss Christopher, giggled, so happy to see Ladies Margaret and Helen. “We have come for ball gowns, pelisses, and two gorgeous day dresses. Each.” Margaret directed.

“Wonderful. I have been working on new designs for both of you. I think you will be quite pleased when you see them.” She giggled. Miss Christopher always had a little giggle. Nervousness or happiness – never easy to discern.

“You have made us very popular at the balls as of late. We trust you explicitly.” Based on how Miss Christopher’s designs had contributed to Helen’s transformation, she left all design decisions to the little cherub. She had done wonders for Margaret and Helen. “You have made me a new lady at the balls. I actually get to dance now.” Helen embarrassed herself with her confession. She had changed her attitude as well as her appearance. Her level of confidence had excelled, and all due to a change in her appearance.

“I love to hear you are happy. I will do my best, as I always do. So, when do you need these? Soon, I suspect.” She giggled again.

“An excellent guess. I think the upcoming ball is in four days. Would four days be too soon?”

“I have the designs already. I have colors picked out so I would say, they can all be ready in four days.” She scribbled something in her notepad. “I think I could get at least one pelisse and one exquisite day dress for each of you by tomorrow. The rest will have to be in four days.”

The girls squealed with delight. “We can ride during the fashionable hour tomorrow afternoon. Wait, Miss Christopher. What time might we be able to pick them up?”

“It is still early. I might be able to complete them this evening or first thing on the morrow.”

“Would it be possible to send our footman round to fetch them?” Margaret clapped her hands, excited about being able to ride through Hyde Park.

“May I suggest, if I can complete them this evening, I will bring them round. If not, have your footman come on the morrow, first thing. Does that sound agreeable?”

“Yes, it sounds more than agreeable.” Helen as enthused as Margaret.

“Mind you, it will be for one day dress and one pelisse. I think a day dress with a matching pelisse will be smart looking.”

“Thank you, Miss Christopher. Now, we need to see what is taking Lady Maxwell so long with Madame Green.” Margaret rolled her eyes. She leaned into Helen and whispered, “We have the best modiste in all of Town.”

Helen mouthed the words, “I know.”

Lady Maxwell finally completed her design discussions with Madame Green and intended to retrieve Papa, then they would all go to Gunter’s , but when they returned home, Lady McDonnell and Amina had arrived. There went the trip to Gunter’s . Margaret and Helen offered their greetings. Calvin brought a cart in with tea cups, serviettes, tea, and tea treats. Lady McDonnell and Miss Amina brought with them two letters they had received. One from Muriel and one from Rosa. They sat in the drawing room and listened intently as first Lady McDonnell, then Miss Amina read their letters. The newlyweds and Rosa were having a grand time. And Muriel wrote that Martin enjoyed observing the two ladies' exuberance over all the museums, statues, cafes, and even the people they saw.

Mama invited Lady McDonnell and Miss Amina to stay for dinner, but they graciously declined. Upon their departure, the family, along with Helen, enjoyed a casual, buffet dinner. After dinner, Margaret and Helen decided to play chess when Mr. Boardback, came into the library to tell Margaret that “some woman” stood on the front step wanting to see her.

“Did you not invite her in?” Margaret did not hide her agitation. She stormed past him.

“I thought you would.” Boardback unapologetically disappeared back to the butler’s room.

When Margaret arrived at the front door, Miss Christopher had turned to walk away. “Miss Christopher, please, come in. I sincerely apologize for our pitiful excuse of a butler.”

“I have your day dresses with matching pelisses. I want you to see them before I leave to be certain you are as happy with them as I am.” She crossed the threshold, arms overflowing with garments and another giggle.

“I will get Lady Helen. Would you allow me to assist you?” Margaret had neglected Miss Christopher’s arms full of fabric. She felt it was the least she could do after the insult inflicted on her by Maxwell’s horrible butler.

“No, no. Not necessary. They are not at all heavy. I can manage. You go fetch Lady Helen.” It surprised Margaret that the dresses stayed off the ground; Miss Christopher being so short in stature.

Margaret hurried down the hall. “Helen, Miss Christopher is here with our riding clothes. Hurry.” Helen had been studying the chess board when Margaret called for her.

“I think I have you beat, Margaret.” Helen had her chest out and her nose in the air. She hid her talent for chess from the men folk. Helen could beat almost anyone at chess. She was that good.

“Helen, it is Miss Christopher with our dresses and pelisses. She wants to see if we like them.”

“She is wonderful. I’m so glad you found her, Margaret. She has truly turned my life around.” Helen freely admitted. She felt that Miss Christopher deserved the credit.

Margaret stood at the open door of the library as Miss Christopher came in with their new dresses. “I can already tell I will be happy. These are beautiful colors.”

“I wonder which is which.” Helen would be happy with either one.

“Now, these are yours, Lady Margaret.” Margaret marveled at the rose-colored pelisse with a standing collar, one button right below the collar, then opened to one inch below the dress hemline. The day dress made in a lighter rose color, empire with low decolletage. The dress and pelisse were both lined and made of fine silk. “And these are yours, Lady Helen.” Helen’s gown, close to identical, only with a royal blue pelisse and powder blue day dress. Helen’s decolletage was sewn a bit higher.

“Mine is gorgeous! I can’t wait to wear it.” It thrilled Helen to see such finery.

“And I love mine. I have never worn this color. I think it is beautiful.” Margaret was spinning as she hugged the dress to her body.

“I’m happy that you both like them. I like the collar on both of them. It is a new style and I’m sure you will be the trendsetters.” Miss Christopher giggled. “I had better go. My Tommy will wonder where I am.”

“Tommy?” Margaret caught the man's name. Maybe she had a lover. Maybe she would know what the Lord Fredrick had said meant…but, no. She dare not ask her.

“That is my fat cat, Tommy. He started as a tom cat, but now he is a fat cat and I believe he rather enjoys it.” She giggled. “Shall I send bills?”

“Yes, please. That would be splendid. Thank you so much, Miss Christopher.” Margaret escorted her to the door. Mr. Boardback, of course, nowhere to be seen. “And the ball gowns?”

“Oh, yes. I will have them done by the end of the week. Good night.”

“Now, I must ask Mama and Papa if we can ride through the park during the early fashionable hours. Two ladies as lovely as we should be seen.” And she spun again.

“And what of Lords Addams and Windham?” Helen goaded.

Margaret’s stomach did some kind of something. She had never experienced it before. It felt like it had completely flipped over. “We need not waste our time on such small fish. We can lure in much better catches.” Helen knew better. Margaret was besotted with Lord Fredrick. Margaret spun around once more holding the dress to her.

Lord and Lady Maxwell were sitting in the small drawing room. Margaret and Helen brought their new clothes with them. “Look Mama, Papa. The modiste brought them for us to wear during the fashionable hour tomorrow. May we be permitted to go?”

Lord Maxwell looked over at his wife. “I think that would be acceptable as long as you take Horace with you.” He waited for Margaret to fuss.

“But Papa, two ladies in an open carriage during the fashionable hour travel by themselves. There is no need for a servant.”

“I’m not sure. Mama, what do you think? Horace or no Horace?” Papa’s gazed at his wife. He would let her decide. Mama looked at the two young ladies.

“I’m concerned. They are much too lovely to be traveling alone. Someone may want to whisk them away.” Margaret’s mother smiled.

“We will be sure not to be abducted.” Margaret declared, putting her hands in a prayer position as she held her new clothes to her chest.

“Alright then.” Mama agreed with a smile. “But please be careful.”

“We want to go in the morning,” Margaret said, once again asking for approval.

“Darling girl, carriages are not allowed for the morning hours. Carriages are only allowed for the afternoon hours. It will be better. There will be more people to make sure you are safe.”

“Alright, I guess we can wait until then.” Margaret spun around again. Helen stood there. What could she do? She stood in place feeling awkward. These were not her parents, though she wished they were.

“Alright, you darling girls, let us see your new dresses,” Papa said.

“I have never worn this color. I think it is beautiful.” Margaret held it out to show the pelisse and the day dress.

“Now, lovely Helen, show us your dress.” Papa wanted to pay more attention to Helen, now that he realized she had no parents to speak of.

“The pelisse is designed like Margaret’s, only a royal blue with a powder blue day dress.” Helen felt awkward showing her new clothes to Margaret’s parents.

“Helen, that is a beautiful color for you.” Lady Maxwell smiled at Helen as she nodded her head.

“Yes, indeed. You must be careful no one snatches you up and hauls you away to their manor where you will be treated like a queen.” Helen tucked her head and twisted her right foot, unaccustomed to such flattering comments.

“Lord Maxwell, I think I will be lucky to find someone to take me at all.” She did not look up.

“Helen, look at me, please.” Lord Maxwell said with sincerity, Helen did as he asked. “Any man would be lucky to have such a lovely, kind, and intelligent lady by their side.” He nodded. “Now, you believe me. I sincerely mean it.”

“And I agree, Helen.” Lady Maxwell added.

“Thank you. Excuse me.” Helen gave a quick curtsey and walked out, rather rapidly. Margaret’s parents looked at each other as they shrugged their shoulders.

“What happened, Margaret?” Mama whispered.

Margaret walked closer to her parents, bent down, and whispered. “She started crying. No one, no adult, has ever been so complimentary. It means so much to her. My parents are such good people. She told me once that she wished you were her parents.”

“She spends so much time here, she may as well be,” Papa said. He patted Margaret on her shoulder. “Lady Helen and you have been good friends. That is worth more than gold, poppet. Go on now. Find your friend.”

Margaret dashed up the stairs, into her bedchamber, and called to Helen.

“I’m in here.” Helen stood in Margaret’s dressing room. “I wanted to hang my new clothes. Miss Christopher is such a nice person. So are your parents, Margaret. You are so lucky to have such kind parents.” Helen still would not look at Margaret. She pretended to smooth out her new dress.

“Helen. You know what a stickler Mama is about my eating. I resent that but other than her continued harping on my food intake, I think I’m lucky to have such parents. Papa is wonderful. Do you agree?” Margaret took Helen by the forearm. “Helen, my Papa thinks so much of you. One thing you should know about Papa, he would never say anything he did not mean. What he told you is what he meant. And you need to start believing it.”

“I’m trying, Margaret, but when you have been ignored or berated for most of your life, it is difficult to believe I have any self-worth at all. I rarely ever see my father. He and mother don’t seem to like each other.” She walked out of the dressing room and sat down on the bed. “But I’m trying, Margaret. I am. And having nice men come up to me and ask me to dance truly helps.”

“Enough of this talk. I have decided something and you have to come with me when I do it. Alright?” Margaret had a naughty look that Helen recognized could only get them into trouble.

“What is it, Margaret? You have something sneaky going on in that head of yours.”

“After Mama and Papa go to bed, we will sneak downstairs, find Calvin, and ask him what the "F" word means. He will tell me and he would never tell my parents I asked him.”

“Oh, Margaret. Going down to the stables is a terrible idea. What will he think of you, asking him such a thing?”

“It might be something complimentary.” Margaret knew better, from the sound of the word, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her.

“Margaret, you know it is not a nice word. Listen to the way it sounds. Must you ask him?” Helen would give in.

“Who else can I ask? A stranger? Lords Elliot and Gifford? What would they think if, indeed, it is a bad word? They would think that I’m a bad girl.”

Helen let out a heavy, exasperated breath. “Alright. But I still say this is not a good idea.”

“We should get out the memoir of the wanton woman and read it until they retire.” Margaret already had her bottom in the air with her arms under the bed, digging the book out.

“Maybe we will find the word in there. Then we can disregard your idea about Calvin.”

“Even if we did find the word, I doubt the book will include the definition.” Margaret had a point. Most unfortunate, in Helen’s opinion.

They read for another hour before Margaret opened her bedchamber door to see if her parents’ room looked dark.

“Now, we can stop reading right here.” She crimped the page. “We have to be quiet. I think if we are caught, we can say we were going to get the chessboard.” Margaret had her hand on the door.

“Gosh, Margaret. This will be embarrassing. Are you sure?” Helen, not at all keen on the idea.

“Come. Be quiet.” She opened the door, and they sneaked down the staircase. When they got to the back of the house she put her finger to her mouth. “I think it is likely he is in the stables. Come.” Margaret opened the back door. As soon as they reached the bottom of the steps, two heads popped up from the backside of the coach.

“Lady Margaret. Lady Helen. What are you doing? What I mean to say is…yes, what are you doing out here so late? All are abed.” Calvin remained on the other side of the coach. Horace stared.

Margaret stood still, twisting her hands as she and Calvin stared at each other. “I have a question. Could I speak with you privately?” Helen stood behind her, her visage turning as red as Margaret’s new pelisse.

Calvin looked confused. “What is this about, my lady?” He remained behind the coach. Horace still stared.

“I’m not at liberty to say until I can speak with you privately.” Margaret was becoming nervous. She assumed he would answer right away and they would already be back in her bedchamber.

“My lady. You cannot be thinking of going somewhere after dark. It is late and two lovely ladies could get into trouble rather easily.” Calvin was a tall, sinewy man, in his late twenties. His dark hair always eschew, and his dark eyes never seemed to miss much.

“No, no, not that, Calvin. Would you please come to speak with me privately?” She asked but her voice raised another octave.

“Yes, my lady.” Calvin looked at Horace. “I shan’t be too long. We will get this done tonight.”

He wiped his hands on a washing cloth. “My lady, I’m sure that my Lord and Lady are unaware of you and Lady Helen being out here at this time of night.”

“They will not find out. You must swear to me that you will say nothing. And tell Horace the same, alright?” Margaret had to make this much too difficult.

“I…Lady Margaret, what is it you wish of me?” Calvin would do nothing to get himself into trouble over some antic of Lady Margaret’s.

“I have a question. You have to swear to me not to tell anyone. Swear, Calvin.” Margaret demanded.

“A question. What manner of question?” Calvin sidestepped the commitment and continued to wipe his hands.

“Calvin, swear to me.” Again, Margaret asked, sounding more like a demand than a request.

“A question. What manner of question is this you wish to ask of me? A question that no one else in the house can answer for you?” He became leery. He f eared he might suspect the topic. “Lady Margaret, what manner of question?”

“Oh, please, Calvin. I have no one else I can ask. I don’t know. It might be nothing. But it might be something. Please, Calvin.” Margaret pleaded.

“Oh, God. Lady Margaret. If you cost me my job…”

“No, no. It will be alright. It is only a question.”

“Christ. Against my better judgment…what is the question?” Calvin looked at Margaret, waiting i mpatiently. Margaret glanced back at Helen.

“You wanted to do this. Hurry and ask so we can go back upstairs.” Helen became a bit exasperated herself.

“Alright. Calvin. I had someone say this word to me and I have never heard it before.”

“Come, Lady Margaret.” He sounded exasperated. “The word?” He looked away – voice flat.

“The word…the word was…f-fuck.” She stared at him as he threw down his cloth, turned in a circle, threw his arms up in the air, looked at Margaret, opened his mouth to say something, then turned in a circle again.

“Lady Margaret. Who would say such a word to you?” His eyes looked angry. “Who?”

“Someone at the ball. So is it a bad word?” She looked so sincere.

“We want to know. We can’t find the word anywhere.” Helen contributed, stepping slightly to the side of Margaret.

Now Calvin had his hands on his hips, but he continued to walk around in circles. He stopped and looked at the two crazy females. “Why in the world, of all the people on the planet, did you have to ask me?” He started walking again.

“Because I hoped you would answer me.” He stopped again, hands on his hips.

“I think I have it. Alright…well…alright.” He looked down as if formulating. He shook his head.

“You said that part already. We are waiting for the rest of it.” Helen stepped up beside Margaret. It must not be good.

“You know what it means to consummate a marriage?”

“Yes.” They said in unison. They leaned forward.

“Well, that is what it means.” Calvin exhaled heavily. “Well, that is over.” He picked up the washing cloth and began to walk away.

“It means the husband and wife do whatever they do in the marriage bed.” She spoke to his back. “Well, it is not bad at all.” Margaret smiled at Helen.

“It is something after marriage.” Helen smiled back at Margaret.

“Thank you, Calvin. So it is a nice word?” Margaret asked to confirm.

Calvin turned around, ran his hand down his face, took a few steps forward, and stared toward the heavens. “Why me?” He stared at both of them, then shook his head. He looked down again. “My ladies, it is not a nice word. No one should say such a word to you.”

“But you said people did this F word after they married.” Helen tapped her finger to her chin, trying to understand.

“I used an example. It means the – the act, itself. Understand?”

“No.” They both said in unison – again.

“God, my ladies. I can’t go any further with this. Honestly. Just know it is a word for a carnal act. Now, I must get back to helping Horace. You two go to bed.” And Calvin walked away.

“Did you understand any of his explanation, Helen?” Margaret shook her head. more confused than before.

“This is what I got out of what he said – it is a bad word. Something to do with…you know. Sex.”

“Like in our book?” Margaret asked for confirmation.

“I suppose. Come on. We need to read more. Maybe we will find it in one of the books you bought.”

Frank and Mr. Warren

Frank went to the post office and spoke with someone from the inland section of the General Post Office. The man’s name was Robert Warren. An older gentleman, thin, his back all bent over, likely from bending over and sorting all the letters. He had thick gray hair and wore spectacles way down on his nose. A most pleasant fellow. Adored Glenda. She had been coming to the London post office to pick up letters from him for at least fifteen years that he could remember. He said that Glenda was a real lady; quiet, and kind. It seemed like Christmas day with each letter she opened.

“Did you ever meet the Mr. Thistlewood to whom the letters were addressed?”

“No, sir. Can’t say I ever did. Miss Glenda always picked them up. She always showed. Never missed. I almost knew what time she would show up. She loved getting those letters. They must have been real special.”

Frank told Mr. Warren he wished to collect the letters moving forward. Frank introduced himself as a Bow Street runner and said the request came from Sir John Fielding, himself. Mr. Warren had no qualms – happy to oblige. “Nothing wrong with Glenda, is there? Such a nice lady.”

“No, she has not been well lately. That is all. Nothing serious. Sir John Fielding is a good friend and wants to help her as best he can. Sir Fielding is blind, so he asked me to collect the letters for him.” Mr. Warren had a concerned look as Frank spoke.

“Don’t worry about Glenda. She is safe and in good hands.” He hoped; she worked hard to take care of her daughter. “May I ask, about how many times a week or a month the letters come?”

Mr. Warren gave a bit of a chuckle and pushed his spectacles back up on his nose. “Lord, once a week is on the low side. About twice a week is normal. Sometimes three times a week.” He scratched the back of his head. “Hope Miss Glenda is alright. Tell her I hope whatever it is, she gets better.”

Frank felt somewhat contrite, having to contrive a story that led the kind old man to believe Glenda still among the living. But considered it for the greater good. Three of the four horsemen and Mr. Stewart were working diligently to locate Glenda’s daughter.

“One more thing if I’m not taking too much of your time.” Frank hoped Mr. Warren could answer his next question.

“Sure. Go ahead. Let’s hear it.” He smiled.

“Do you have any idea where the letters that are sent to Glenda come from? Another city? Somewhere in the countryside? I need to find that out. Can you help me?” Frank used his official voice to indicate to Mr. Warren that the question was necessary.

“I’m not aware,” Frank’s hope sank. “but I can ask the fellow that delivers. Mind you, it isn’t always the same person. Turnover is high. I reckon for the hours and the amount of time on a mount, it must not be worth the pay. Never asked.”

“That’s fine. You have helped a great deal. If you could give me what has been collected so far, I will take that, then be in to collect the mail once a week. Should I always ask for you?” Frank wondered whether Glenda and Mr. Warren also had a ‘trade’. He hoped not. Frank could do nothing like what Glenda had to offer in trade. He hoped Glenda’s talent had not been necessary at the post office.

Mr. Warren walked over to a pigeonhole with letters stacked in it. He handed the stack to Frank. “Yes, sir. I always waited on her. You tell her to get better real soon.