The Gold that Glitters | Page 8

Dear me, you have all to

learn! Well, never mind; the best woman living had to begin once."
"Yes, madam," said smiling Jenny.
Mrs Jane sat down before the toilet-table, and with more rapidity than
Jenny could well follow, showed her the articles upon it, and the uses
for which they were designed.
"Here is pearl powder; that is for my forehead. This is rouge, for my
cheeks and lips. Now, mind what you do with them! Don't go and put
the white powder on my cheeks, and the red upon my nose! This is
pomatum for my hair; and this empty box holds my love-locks (you'll
have to learn how to put those in, Jenny); in this bottle is a wash for my
face. I don't dye my hair, nor use oils for my hands--one must draw the
line somewhere. But the other matters you must learn to apply."
Jenny listened in silent amazement. She had never realised till that
moment what an artificial flower her young mistress was.
Her own cosmetics were soap and water; and she was divided between
disgust and admiration at the number of Mrs Jane's beautifiers. Poor
Jenny had no idea that Mrs Jane used a very moderate amount of them,
as contrasted with most fashionable ladies of her day.
"I must have a word with you, Jenny, as to your manners," said Mrs
Jane, more gravely. "I can't do to have you falling in love with anybody.
It would be very inconvenient, and, in fact, there's nobody here for you.
Remember now, you are above Featherstone and all the men-servants;
and you must not set your cap at the chaplain, because he's Mrs
Millicent's property."
Above that elegant gentleman, Mr Featherstone! Jenny felt as if she
trod on perfumed air. She was not in the least surprised to be told that
she was not to marry the chaplain; the family chaplain, of whom there
was one in every family of any pretension, was considered a poor mean
creature, whose natural wife was the lady's maid; and Jenny quite
understood that Mrs Millicent took precedence of her.

"You take your seat at table, Jenny, next below Mrs Millicent. Of
course you know you are not to speak there? If any one should have
such ill-manners as to address you, you must answer quite respectfully,
but as short as possible. Well, now to tell you your duties. You rise
every morning at five of the clock; dress quietly, and when you are
ready, wake me, if I have not woke sooner. Then you dress me, go with
me to prayers in the chapel, then to breakfast in the hall; in the morning
(when I am at home) you follow me about in my duties in the kitchen,
stillroom, and dairy; you help me to see to the poultry, get up my
muslins and laces, and mend my clothes. In the afternoon you go out
visiting with me, work tapestry, embroider, or spin. In the evening, if
there be music or dancing, you can join; if not, you keep to your
needle."
Jenny courtesied, and meekly "hoped she should do her duty." Some
portions of this duty, now explained to her, were sufficiently to her
taste; others sounded very uninteresting. These were the usual services
expected from a lady's maid two hundred years ago.
"Very well," said Mrs Jane, looking round. "I think that is all at the
present. If I think of any other matter, I will mention it. Now ring that
little bell on the side-table, and Millicent shall give you your first
lesson in dressing my hair."
Jenny found that first lesson a trial. Millicent was quick and precise;
she gave her instructions almost sharply, and made little allowance for
Jenny's ignorance and inaptitude.
She seemed to expect her to know what to do without being told, or at
the utmost to need only once telling. Jenny found it necessary to have
all her wits about her, and began to think that her new situation was not
quite so perfect a Paradise as she had supposed it.
From this exercise they went down to supper in the hall, where Jenny
found herself placed at the higher table between Millicent and the
steward--a stiff, silent, elderly man, who never said a word to her all
supper-time. Robin Featherstone sat at the lower table; for the two
tables made the only distinction between the family and the household,

who all ate together in the hall.
The next discovery was that she must never ask for a second helping,
but must take what was given her and be content. Accustomed to the
freedom and plenty of the farmhouse kitchen, Jenny sadly felt the
constraint of her new life. She was obliged to fall back for her
consolation on the