Belinha had refused each time they attempted to get her to eat with them. She ended up eating in the kitchen with the other maids and tried to be as proper and polite as possible even though all she wanted to do was slurp the food down and lick the plate clean.
She hadn't had a filling meal like that since she was a child. She had not had a proper meal at all sometimes. Her belly felt heavy, almost as if it was not even a part of her body. She tapped it with the palm of her hand; surprisingly it stayed silent. No more hunger waves itched away at her like a bad disease.
How long had it been since she had felt hungry? she thought. Her smile faded as she thought of the family. It is a trick, she thought as she tried to find the 'Duchess'. They must have some ulterior motive.
She headed back down the hall when she saw the Duchess sitting in the parlour room, staring out the window. Belinha stood before her with her hands wrung. The older woman looked up and the crease eased.
"Louise," she said, a smile framing her petite face. "I'm glad you're here. I was getting bored of being bored." She gestured for Belinha to come with her who hesitantly obeyed. The Duchess clicked her tongue. "Companion, not follower."
Belinha jogged to hurry beside her. The Duchess, surprisingly, hooked her arm through hers. No one of status willingly touched people like me, she screeched in her head. Wouldn't she get condemned for doing so?
She wanted to pull away and tell her that it was not a good idea, but going against the wishes of the master or mistress of the house was never tolerated well. So she remained silent and stiff. The Duchess then led her upstairs and as she was beginning to get dizzy on the spiral stairs, they came to a stop outside the large doors.
It was not the same room she hid in before. This was closer to the stairs and had engraved golden handles.
The Duchess sighed, not making a move to open it. Belinha frowned. This must be the room her husband lay in, she thought. "I am...sorry," she said, not used to speaking willingly to those that were of higher status. "About your husband."
"You heard." Belinha hung her head. "I'm not trying to accuse you. Let's just say I still haven't processed any of it." She forced a laugh, tugging them both back down the stairs. "Actually, let me show you your room. That's the exciting part!"
Her...room? She was getting a room for herself? Not an area outside the house on hay? Belinha thought it excessive but now that she was mistakenly considered as the personal companion, she figured it would be best to play along now. Still, the guilt transferred to each step toward the large wooden door near the front.
The Duchess excitedly threw the door open. Belinha hesitated at the threshold and glanced over her shoulder. She did not think this was real or if it was appropriate at all, but the Duchess only waved her inside with a grin.
So Belinha did. It was only when she did that she fully understood the world she had been transported to; it was nothing like the slave quarters she was used to. No mud floors, hay or straws as makeshift beds. It was a large room with green walls and hardwood floors covered by a pink and ivory Aubusson rug with various patterns.
An oakwood armoire stood against the wall opposite the bed with an oversized bedframe. The bed was a four-poster canopy with pure wood; the headboard had three hoops, covered by a thin, white lacy fabric which also flowed on either side from the top of the canopy down to the floor. A bundle of white pillows with gold trimmings stacked up against the headboard.
A dressing table with small drawers and a wood-framed mirror in a curved design, with brushes and lotions located on this dressing table, stood next to the bed. A small open-backed chair, with a well-padded seat of a pale floral and foliate motif with interwoven gold cotton sat beside it.
Belinha had never seen anything like it. She tip-toed forward and brushed her fingers over the fabric. So soft, she thought, brows puckering. Was this real? "I cannot believe it," she found herself giggling. It vanished when she realised the Duchess was standing behind her. She snatched her hand back and whirled around. "I am sorry!"
"Why're you apologising? Explore, please!" She sat down on the edge of the bed almost in exaggeration; she looked almost comical doing so in that puffy dress. "I'll be right here when you're done."
Such a kind woman, she thought absentmindedly as she turned around to survey the rest of the room.
The wardrobe was a rectangular moulded cornice with marquetry inlay, and cross-banded in satinwood above the rectangular central door with a full-length bevelled glass mirror providing light in an otherwise dim room. Though nighttime, under the faint fluorescent candlelight, she could see herself rather clearly.
Her dark skin shone with sweat and her brown eyes looked sunken as if she had not seen sleep in months. Her curls were greasy in their braids and she winced at the image. Never had she been more embarrassed of the way she looked until then, surrounded by finery and luxury.
"I'll leave so you can take a bath," came the soft voice. The Duchess appeared beside the mirror and gripped her upper arms, smiling as a mother would to their daughter.
"May I truly?"
"What kind of silly question is that?" She then joked, "Were you not allowed to take baths at your last employer?"
She did not know the truth of that statement, she thought. "I'll bring some clothes over for you to sleep in just until tomorrow. Eliza will get you clothes that actually fit you."
"Your clothes have been wonderful," she rushed to say, "I love them very much. May I keep them?"
The Duchess stared at her as if she was a puzzle. "Sure, if you want," she said. She then sighed, surveying her to the point Belinha wanted to back away. "You're absolutely beautiful. I'm honestly so jealous of how smooth your skin looks. I get pimples almost every week, now."
Belinha shook her head, unsure of what to say. "You are perfect, Your Grace."
She looked around the room and clasped her hands together against her chest. "I haven't been in this room in a long time." Seeing the look of question on Belinha's face, she elaborated. "This used to be my room when I was the governess."
Belinha blinked. "The governess?"
"Oh, right, I should explain. I was the governess for Richard, believe it or not, before the Duke and I fell in love and got married. Sounds simple but it's a very long story."
She worked for the Duke as a governess and yet he did not discriminate against her? She was just like her in some ways! Belinha felt her chest swell, the tension of being around artistocracy diminishing.
"You and me...we are alike, yes?"
"Exactly." The Duchess squeezed her hand. "I always thought the lady-in-waiting would be someone who only saw me as a mistress and followed my every order. I don't like that at all so I'm hoping we can have actual, meaningful conversations."
"I would like that very much," she said, trying to halt the excitement seeping into her voice. Do not get too comfortable, she told herself. But she could not help it. This woman was very kind and respectable.
Richard was not her son in true blood. And yet that was not a problem to her or the family? This family is very strange indeed, she thought. Regardless, there was an unspoken atmosphere of love that she could sense.
"You are very lucky," said Belinha again. "You have a very loving family."
"My husband and my sons are my whole world."
Belinha smiled. Never had she heard of someone of colour praising a man of higher power. She had only heard bad stories about them and nightmares of Sir Pablo; she believed in every country the whites were like so.
Perhaps not all.
***
She woke up on a soft bed without back aches or neck pain. What a dream, she thought, stretching. Then she shot up. Sir Pablo! She had to get up and serve him and his mother breakfast or he would keep her out at night without anything to eat.
But when she got up, the sharp strands of hay didn't scratch at her calloused feet and there were no peeling white walls in sight. She wore a very loose white nightgown and lay in an oversized bed, staring right at herself in the mirror of the armoire opposite her; her hair that had been damp the night before from the first bath in a long time had dried curlier than ever before, flowing over her shoulders in ringlets.
That was when it all came back to her. She was not in Portugal anymore. She was in England in the house of the Duke and his wife, the Duchess Nalini. She was the new 'lady-in-waiting' they had mentioned.
Her shoulders slumped and for a few minutes, as the room crackled away with the sounds of the fire in the hearth, the situation settled in her brain. She fell back into the cushioned pillows. Belinha let the softness swallow her head. She did not know what it was like to feel as though there were no expectations and no punishments. Having both felt odd, but freeing.
For now, at least.
Belinha lay in bed for an hour or so. Time went by before she knew it and as the filtered sun struck through the pulled curtains, someone knocked on the door.
"Louise? Are you awake? Eliza's here to take you to town!" It was the Duchess. The mistress of the house did not need her to help her dress? She rushed over to the door despite her feet tangling in the gown. She tumbled to the floor with a thump. "Oh my god, are you ok?!"
"Y-Yes, I'm fine, Your Grace," she spluttered. Fixing the end of the gown and standing up, she tip-toed over to the door and opened it. "Good morning," she said. The Duchess wore a simple dark green gown with long tight sleeves. She was holding folded clothing in her hands. "I apologise for waking so late. I should have helped you in getting dressed."
"You're not helping me get dressed or bathing me," she warned. "If you have any of those thoughts, get rid of them now. As sad as this sounds, you're here to be my friend, remember? And friends don't undress and dress each other."
Belinha flushed, shifting on her feet. It was so unusual and strange to be hired on the grounds of being someone's personal companion. It did not seem real. Is that truly all this woman wanted?
The Duchess shoved the dress she was holding into her arms. "Go get changed into this," she said. "Eliza's waiting for you in the drawing room." The Duchess followed her inside the room. She gestured toward the three-fold mahogany dressing screen of pink fabric decorated with floral motifs. Each panel was enclosed in gilt frames and ornately carved scrolled crests. "Change behind that. I'll do your hair so that you'll get fewer stares in town that way. Trust me, there'll be a lot of that."
Grateful, she hurried over behind the screen. It covered her from revealing herself to the Duchess who sat at the edge of the bed, fingering some loose thread on her gown. Quickly, whilst also keeping an eye on the corner so she could be aware of her coming over, Belinha took off her clothes.
Feeling rather exposed, she squatted a little bit so that her head was not showing. "Why is this so embarrassing?" she asked, not realising she had said it aloud.
"I felt the exact same way," came the voice from the other side of the screen. "You don't get used to it, sadly."
"So it is not just me, yes?"
"The divider doesn't really do anything but heighten the insecurity. Don't worry, I'm not looking." The Duchess paused. "But I'm sorry to say, I have a little bit more things to hand over to you."
Things? What things?
A dusky hand shot out with something that looked nothing less than a cage. Belinha blinked. "What can I do with...that?"
"You've got to wear it underneath. It's called a crinoline. Apparently all the women are wearing it so...gotta go with the flow."
Gotta go...with the flow?
She speaks very strangely, she couldn't help but think.
"Wear that?" Belinha plucked it out of her hands with a thumb and forefinger, as if she was going to be burnt by it. She supposed it was not too bad. She wore the uncomfortable, restrictive crinoline before wearing another petticoat.
"Do you need help?" asked the Duchess.
"May you please fix the back for me?"
"I was waiting for you to ask so I didn't have to barge in here." Belinha could hear the swishing of the gown as she hurried over. She turned around as the Duchess fixed her buttons and loosely tied the whalebone corset that ended above her waistline. Belinha supposed she should feel embarrassed that she had seen her slightly...exposed, though, she was a woman too.
The bodice was rimmed with lace which the Duchess took note of. "Not trying to praise myself, but I added that myself with the sewing machine."
Sewing machine? She didn't ask what it was, not wanting to sound completely uneducated.
She shrugged on the dark plum dress, liking the way the satin fabric flowed down past her feet. Now she knew why the women wore the crinoline. The scalloped skirt of the dress was dome-shaped and so full that her legs seemed to have been swallowed by the three tiers of flounces.
The folded-over collar of her dress was wide and white. It was very suffocating, to say the least. There were dress buttons up the back of her bodice from the waist to the collar and a purple belt with buttons at the back. The sleeves were loose in a pagoda sleeve style and she fingered the soft material with her fingers.
Am I truly wearing this or is it a dream? she thought. A fairytale, as Luciana had always told her. She smiled, bringing her chin down to her chest. She would keep the euphoria building deep within her and resist the urge to twirl.
"You look absolutely beautiful," breathed the Duchess as she walked out from behind the divider. She clapped. "Now onto your hair." She parted the front hair in the middle and pulled the rest behind the ears into a low bun. It was a very simple style, allowing everyone to see her oval face and defined features.
The Duchess rushed over to the bed. She grabbed cream gloves and a bonnet to match. "These are for you to wear," she said. "It's compulsory here."
"These are most strange, are they not?" she couldn't help but ask.
"Tell me about it. The bonnet still makes my head itch." She laughed. "Now go quickly, I want to take you on a tour of this place when you come back."
***
Eliza surveyed her and nodded in approval, her soft, peach face pink with pleasure. "You cleaned up very nicely," she stated.
"I had the help of Her Grace. I am still endeavouring to get used to the way of speaking here."
As they walked down the narrow, muddy roads, Eliza spoke. "I do understand your predicament. This estate must be different from your previous employment."
She tried to breathe but the layers of clothing underneath made it difficult. She had always wondered what it was like seeing all the white women dressed in such luxurious clothing.
Now that she was wearing the same, she did not like it one bit.
"It is very different," she said softly. "But I like it. Everyone has been most kind to me."
"Your previous employer was not nice?"
Belinha startled. "I...they were kind but as I am coloured, they did not take well. They treated me as a servant, rather than the maid I was hired to be."
"Ah," came the soft noise of understanding. "I apologise for the behaviour of your employer. Though we have abolished slavery in the colonies, there will always be individuals who refuse to allow others to integrate. It is a pity." Eliza reached out to her arm in a feathery light touch. "Don't worry yourselves about that here. The Duchess seems to like you and that is all that matters."
They walked in silence as horses clomped past and the giggling of schoolchildren resounded in the vast air. They were in matching red dresses, marching the other way. Belinha heard the sing-song of chants and poems, a sound so lyrical and deep she could not help but look around. She spotted a black man with a barrow, an array of goods laid in it.
There was a small crowd gathering around him; it was he who was singing. He wore a long waistcoat made of sandy-coloured corduroy with brass buttons and a blue silk neckerchief. His bell-bottom corduroy trousers were slightly brown from the mud.
There was nothing but a bright smile on his face that Belinha could not look away from. His gaze flickered over the head of the crowd and met hers. He tipped his hat and she smiled.
"A costermonger," said Eliza, leaning in as they walked past. "Interesting, is it not?"
Interesting indeed. She did not know that there was a culture so different from her own here. Though it looked like a difficult job, it did not show on his face. Her chest swelled. Perhaps there could be a future here.
Turning her head back forward, she met two women who stood on the opposite side of the pavement. They peered over at her, studying her from head to toe with pursed lips before leaning in and saying something.
Belinha forced her eyes away. Could they tell she did not belong? Well, of course, you are not white, she thought. They expected her to be Eliza's servant and possibly questioned why she was allowed to roam the streets as she was.
She twisted her gloved fingers, wanting to feel the skin to give her some sort of ease. Those two women were not the only ones; some men stopped walking, others craned their necks from atop their carriages to openly gawk.
It was not in a kind way, either.
"Ignore the idiots," whispered Eliza.
"You noticed?"
"It's not every day a woman gets gawked at in such a horrible way. Some men do not have any manners."
"I believe it is because I'm coloured."
"Unfortunately, yes. Not every man is like that, believe me. If that were the truth, I wouldn't so much as bat an eye toward Richard."
"Richard?" she repeated. The name sounded foreign but she had heard the both of them together. The blond man. The son of the Duke.
"Richard, Lord Caldwell. My fiance."
Lord Caldwell.
"You look very good together," she said with a shy smile. They were both very kind people, too.
Eliza's lips stretched and she straightened. "Don't say that to him or he will be filled with an ego all week. I do not have it in me to deflate him." She pointed across the street. "Ah, there it is!" It was a small, white shop with black bold letters printed in a curve on the front 'Madame Smith's Modiste'.
Upon entering, there were multiple tables with women hunched over their sewing assignments, restlessly working through thick and thin fabrics. A woman in a grey gown with pins on a sash around her hips hurried over, grabbing Eliza's hands.
"Lady Delafort! I did not expect you so soon. Your gown will be ready by the morrow."
"That is more than fine, Madame Smith. I arrived for my ally and Her Grace's companion."
Madame Smith was a thin woman with hawk-like features and dark beady orbs that seemed to pierce through Belinha. The patchy smile dimmed slightly seeing her standing beside Eliza.
"Ah...I...yes, that would make sense. You would like a dress to be made for her?"
"Dresses."
"Of course, Lady Delafort. As soon as I get some of her measurements, I will be sure to have it all done in a week."
"Thank you, that is very kind of you," said Belinha, not knowing what else to say. She had a feeling that Madame Smith was not very fond of her but felt as though she needed to say something.
Madame Smith gestured for a woman standing nearby with a tape. "Please, come with me."
Belinha glanced over at Eliza who inclined her head in comfort. Her relaxed demeanour told her that it was not something to fear.
She hesitantly let them measure her and touch her in a manner that was not as violent as she was used to. Belinha held her eyes shut the entire time, to not anger the women. She did not know the ways here and if it were the same as it was in Portugal.
It could be much much worse.
After it was all done, the door opened, overturning the repetitive sounds of machinery pushing needles through thick fabric. A young, tall, and willowy woman wearing a pink and light green block-printed wool day dress walked in. The tight bodice pleated over her large bosom into a V-shaped point at the waist and flared out into the fullness of the skirt that moved like water along the shore at her feet.
"Lady Margaret, you have come in time," Madame Smith announced, cheeks pink with delight as she clicked her fingers for the other ladies to fetch something. "Your silk dress has been finished to your pleasure."
"I know I cannot count on any seamstress but you, Madame Smith."
"Oh, you flatter me so."
Lady Margaret's gaze flickered over to them standing nearby. "Ah, Lady Delafort, how fortunate to see you here."
"It has been a while since we last met."
The woman licked her pale pink lips and daintily scratched above her blonde eyebrow with a peach-gloved finger. "I do recall it was a pleasant meeting."
"Mhm. That it was."
Belinha shifted on her feet, feeling that their words were not in fact, true. She hurried to bow. "It is nice to meet you, Lady Margaret."
"Oh!" The woman stepped back as if she had been hit. "Your slave is allowed to speak?"
"She is not a slave," came the firm response from the woman beside her. Belinha blinked. A white woman was sticking up for her? Truly?
"Yes," she forcefully added, "I am not a slave. I am the Duchess's lady companion."
"...I...cannot fathom how..." she trailed off before straightening up, snapping her fan into place. "Mother was right. That family is a strange one. How the ton has accepted such untoward practices is beyond me."
"It is very much beyond you, Lady Margaret, as it is for your mother." Lady Margaret gasped, hand stilling. Eliza linked her arm through Belinha's and held her chin up high. "Now we bid day to you. We have much more to do than flutter and harp about."
"Lady Delafort, you do realise the--"
Belinha curtseyed. "Good day to you, ma'am." They left the small building and it was quiet. Until Eliza snickered.
"That felt exhilarating. She is most vexing."
"Who is she, may I ask?"
Eliza rolled her eyes and flicked a hand in the air. "Lady Ainsworth's daughter, Lady Margaret. Ever since her mother failed to seduce the Duke, she is now pushing her daughter to pine after my fiance! Can you believe the nerve of that insipid family?"
Before she could get another word in, Eliza continued, "Though I do understand that she feels superior, being the one to find a source for help after His Grace's accident, it does not give her the right to act thus!"
Now Belinha understood the animosity brewing in that shop. She thought back to last night and the way he looked at Eliza. "Lord Caldwell seems to be infatuated with you, Lady Delafort. I do not think you need to worry about where his affections lie."
"I think you're right. I believe in my Richard. One, however, can't believe worms who have been fed poison from their birth."
There were many many worms. Ones that she would see soon enough.