see you in happy spirits again. Yesterday it was wonderful to see you laugh while we
played those silly games.’
‘There is the ball tonight. But I’m not sure if …’
‘Do come, Anne! I’m sure it won’t be as smart as the balls you are used to but it’s the pinnacle of all the social events
here. Why, Cecily is almost bursting with delight and can talk of nothing else but her new dress.’
‘I used to like to dance. What will you wear?’
‘Mama has given me her green silk with the gold underskirt that she wore when she was young.’
Anne looked at her curiously. ‘Don’t you have ball dresses of your own?’
Beth shook her head.
‘But you cannot wear a dress that is decades old. Come with me at once!’
Anne led Beth away upstairs. ‘My maid will dress your hair and powder your face and make you fit for the smartest ball.’ She
pushed open the door to her bedchamber and began to pull dresses out of her travelling trunk.
Anne’s maid, a middle-aged woman dressed all in black with a sour expression to match, came forward to restrain her. ‘Madam,
please sit down and tell me what you are looking for.’
‘The pink silk … No, perhaps not with strawberry blonde hair. I want to lend Miss Ambrose a dress for the ball tonight, Edith.
The blue watered silk?’
Edith took hold of Beth’s arm and turned her around, looking her up and down until Beth turned hot with embarrassment.
‘Well?’ said Anne.
Edith began to rummage in the trunk. ‘This one.’ She pulled out a froth of aqua silk which she held up against Beth.
‘It’s not really a ball dress,’ said Anne doubtfully.
‘Madam, we are in the
country
. She is young and does not need anything too formal.’
‘Yes. Of course.’ Anne smiled. ‘And that colour is perfect for you, Beth. Go on, put it on!’
Beth fingered the silky fabric, marvelling at the quantities of fine lace and the seed pearls sewn all over the puffed and
gathered sleeves.
‘Undress!’ commanded Edith.
Beth began to tug behind her back at the laces of her bodice but Edith deftly untied them herself. Before she knew it, Beth
stood shivering in only her chemise.
Edith held out the damask underskirt and shook it impatiently.
After Beth stepped into it the overskirt was wrapped around her, buttoned at the waist and pinned back to show the embroidered
satin lining. The maid loosened the ties at the neck of Beth’s chemise, exposing a great deal more naked skin than she was
used to showing to the world. She opened her mouth to protest but closed it again at the fierce look she received. Then came
the low-necked body, with a stiffly boned busk and gossamer thin sleeves gathered on to the armholes. Edith pulled tightly
on the laces and Beth felt her breasts being pushed up so high that if she dropped her chin it would rest in the valley between
them.
‘I can’t breathe!’ she protested. She wriggled her fingers under the point of the busk, which extended downwards from her
waist as far as her honour.
‘It’s the latest fashion,’ said Anne. ‘The shape elongates the silhouette. Most elegant.’
‘It is necessary to suffer in the pursuit of beauty,’ said Edith.
‘You’ll become used to it,’ said Anne. ‘Just remember not to bend forwards.’ She turned to the maid. ‘What do you think?’
Edith studied Beth, tweaking the skirt into shape and pulling at the neckline to expose even more of Beth’s breasts. ‘She
will do. But we must dress her hair. Bring her to me this evening.’ Without more ado she swiftly unlaced the body and Beth
could breathe again.
That evening the women assembled in the hall and waited as Anne Morley’s coach was brought from the stables. The womenfolk
were to travel to the ball in the coach, while the men walked behind with Joseph carrying a lamp to light their way.
Beth, self-conscious in her borrowed finery, stood up very straight, unable to slouch even if she had wanted to, since
played those silly games.’
‘There is the ball tonight. But I’m not sure if …’
‘Do come, Anne! I’m sure it won’t be as smart as the balls you are used to but it’s the pinnacle of all the social events
here. Why, Cecily is almost bursting with delight and can talk of nothing else but her new dress.’
‘I used to like to dance. What will you wear?’
‘Mama has given me her green silk with the gold underskirt that she wore when she was young.’
Anne looked at her curiously. ‘Don’t you have ball dresses of your own?’
Beth shook her head.
‘But you cannot wear a dress that is decades old. Come with me at once!’
Anne led Beth away upstairs. ‘My maid will dress your hair and powder your face and make you fit for the smartest ball.’ She
pushed open the door to her bedchamber and began to pull dresses out of her travelling trunk.
Anne’s maid, a middle-aged woman dressed all in black with a sour expression to match, came forward to restrain her. ‘Madam,
please sit down and tell me what you are looking for.’
‘The pink silk … No, perhaps not with strawberry blonde hair. I want to lend Miss Ambrose a dress for the ball tonight, Edith.
The blue watered silk?’
Edith took hold of Beth’s arm and turned her around, looking her up and down until Beth turned hot with embarrassment.
‘Well?’ said Anne.
Edith began to rummage in the trunk. ‘This one.’ She pulled out a froth of aqua silk which she held up against Beth.
‘It’s not really a ball dress,’ said Anne doubtfully.
‘Madam, we are in the
country
. She is young and does not need anything too formal.’
‘Yes. Of course.’ Anne smiled. ‘And that colour is perfect for you, Beth. Go on, put it on!’
Beth fingered the silky fabric, marvelling at the quantities of fine lace and the seed pearls sewn all over the puffed and
gathered sleeves.
‘Undress!’ commanded Edith.
Beth began to tug behind her back at the laces of her bodice but Edith deftly untied them herself. Before she knew it, Beth
stood shivering in only her chemise.
Edith held out the damask underskirt and shook it impatiently.
After Beth stepped into it the overskirt was wrapped around her, buttoned at the waist and pinned back to show the embroidered
satin lining. The maid loosened the ties at the neck of Beth’s chemise, exposing a great deal more naked skin than she was
used to showing to the world. She opened her mouth to protest but closed it again at the fierce look she received. Then came
the low-necked body, with a stiffly boned busk and gossamer thin sleeves gathered on to the armholes. Edith pulled tightly
on the laces and Beth felt her breasts being pushed up so high that if she dropped her chin it would rest in the valley between
them.
‘I can’t breathe!’ she protested. She wriggled her fingers under the point of the busk, which extended downwards from her
waist as far as her honour.
‘It’s the latest fashion,’ said Anne. ‘The shape elongates the silhouette. Most elegant.’
‘It is necessary to suffer in the pursuit of beauty,’ said Edith.
‘You’ll become used to it,’ said Anne. ‘Just remember not to bend forwards.’ She turned to the maid. ‘What do you think?’
Edith studied Beth, tweaking the skirt into shape and pulling at the neckline to expose even more of Beth’s breasts. ‘She
will do. But we must dress her hair. Bring her to me this evening.’ Without more ado she swiftly unlaced the body and Beth
could breathe again.
That evening the women assembled in the hall and waited as Anne Morley’s coach was brought from the stables. The womenfolk
were to travel to the ball in the coach, while the men walked behind with Joseph carrying a lamp to light their way.
Beth, self-conscious in her borrowed finery, stood up very straight, unable to slouch even if she had wanted to, since
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