Nellie drew in her lips, flared her nostrils and put her nose in the air in imitation of Lady Cecily’s pinched expression. All this touching and what not...it’s simply not done. She laughed quietly to herself.
The engaged couple did another circuit of the floor and Nellie’s gaze was drawn to Mr Lockhart’s dark brown eyes, eyes as dark as a moonless winter sky, and just as cold. She slowly shook her head, sighing deeply. Why did he have to look so miserable? This was his engagement party after all. He might be handsome, but all those good looks and that manly countenance were a bit of a waste really if there was no passion to go with it. No, Nellie would never understand the upper classes and nor would she ever want to.
She looked around the room and saw the Duchess of Somerfeld dancing with her husband. They seemed to be the only people at this dismal event who were actually enjoying themselves. Perhaps it was because the Duchess was American that she was able to relax and have a good time. She hadn’t been infected by that unfortunate condition which affected so many members of the English upper class, the stiff upper lip.
The Duke and Duchess whirled round the floor, causing Nellie to smile. Unlike the engaged couple, there was no doubting their love for each other—it could be seen in every glance, every touch, every smile.
The Duchess was the only reason Nellie was present at this sombre engagement party. She had worked for the Duchess before her marriage, when she was still Arabella van Haven, and had accompanied her from America to England. The Duchess had always treated her with respect and they were as much friends as servant and mistress. The Duchess now had a new lady’s maid, but for special occasions such as this society event she still liked Nellie to attend her. Although her days as a servant were over, Nellie was happy to oblige the Duchess. After all, the Duchess had done so much for Nellie, she had even financed her in her own business.
But Nellie planned to pay her back every penny and would add on a healthy amount of interest as well. The Duchess had said it was a gift, not a loan, but Nellie was determined never to be beholden to anyone.
She smiled with satisfaction over the direction her life was taking. At the end of the weekend she would return to her own London establishment, the Venus Hair and Beauty Parlour, proprietress Eleanor Regan. The hairdressing parlour catered to a growing number of middle-class women who wanted to look as if they had their own lady’s maid, but couldn’t afford the expense of another servant.
Oh, yes, she had come a long way from when she’d left Ireland for America ten years ago at the age of thirteen following the death of her parents and had found work as a scullery maid in the van Haven household.
She closed her eyes briefly and drew in a slow breath as the memory of her loving parents flooded her mind. Opening her eyes, she blinked away her unshed tears and forced away all sadness. There was nothing to be sad about. She had been lucky to find employment with the van Havens. It had been a much better fate than was suffered by many Irish immigrants trying to make a new life in New York.
She had been very lucky indeed and there was nothing to feel sad about, especially now. She flicked another glance in the direction of Dominic Lockhart and his fiancée. No, her life was exactly the way she wanted it and she wouldn’t change a thing. Unlike people of their class, Nellie had worked hard for everything she had and that had been a good thing. It made her resilient and appreciate what she had, while those born to wealth had everything handed to them on a silver platter.
Or, more to the point, handed to them on a silver platter by their servants, who worked endlessly behind the scenes to make their lives run smoothly and ensure their every need was catered for before they even had to ask.
The ruling class might have a life of ease, but that didn’t seem to be making them happy. Mr Lockhart and Lady Cecily were proof of that. The pinched expression on Lady Cecily’s face gave the impression that dancing with her fiancé was something to be endured rather than enjoyed and Mr Lockhart’s granite-hard face suggested he was performing a duty expected of him by society, rather than holding the woman he loved in his arms.
These people seemed incapable of letting go and truly enjoying themselves. They didn’t seem to realise just how lucky they were to have so much wealth and privilege.
And no wonder. They had no challenges, no obstacles to overcome. Their only challenge was how to fill their endless spare time and spend their huge fortunes. That was a fate Nellie knew she could never endure. Being busy made her happy. She liked to know she was making something of her life through her own hard work. And she especially loved doing a job which she knew she was good at.
She scanned the room again and released a loud, disappointed sigh. She wasn’t hiding out on the balcony to spy on Mr Lockhart and his fiancée, even if that is what she had ended up doing. Her only reason for lurking behind this large potted palm was so that she could observe the ladies’ hairstyles. But she need not have bothered. Not one of the guests was wearing the latest French fashions or the more modern and daring styles coming through from America. None, that is, except for the Duchess of Somerfeld and that was due to Nellie keeping up with the latest trends. She certainly had no competition from any of the other guests’ lady’s maids.
Now that she had got what she came for, there was
