CHAPTER ONE
Before dawn, the world was dark.
Jane shivered in her tiny, cold room; her thin blanket and rough nightgown offered no warmth.
A bell jangled in the hall. Jane opened her eyes to the ceiling but didn’t move. Her breath fogged in the cold.
She stretched out of bed, her feet hitting the cold wooden floor. She walked to a small table, poured water from a jar into a bowl, and winced as she felt its icy chill.
Her black hair framed high cheekbones and light brown eyes, resting just above her short, graceful neck.
She pulled her nightgown to her waist and splashed cold water on her face. Using a small cloth, she washed under her arms, feeling her way without a mirror. The water stung, but helped her wake up.
With fingers stiff from the cold, she buttoned her heavy wool dress, tied on an apron, and twisted her hair into a perfect, tight bun.
She opened the back door to the narrow, stone stairs and gripped the cold wall for balance on the dark, steep steps.
Jane went all the way down to the basement. This is where the work happened.
At the foot of the stairs lay the kitchen. The heavy iron stove glowed with heat, and the air carried the sharp, earthy scent of coal smoke.
“Is the water ready?” Jane asked.
The cook gestured to two large copper pots steaming on the stove.
But first, she had to check on the boy.
Jane left the kitchen. She walked back up one level to the ground floor, heading for the nursery wing.
At the end of the hall, a large window framed the estate. Jane stopped to look out. The grass looked blue in the morning light. Mist wrapped the trees. Two riders approached. Justine and Julien returned from their ride. They moved slowly, silently, not looking at each other, fading in and out of the fog like spirits.
Jane turned away from the window. She opened the door to the nursery to see if Brian was awake.
The room was quiet and smelled of lavender. Brian was still asleep in his small bed. Jane walked over and touched his shoulder.
“Time to wake up, Master Brian,” she said softly.
The boy stirred. He looked small under the heavy blankets. He didn’t cry. He knew the rules of the house. Jane helped him sit up. She found his slippers and placed them by the bed. She nodded to the nursery maid, who stood in the corner. Her job here was done for now.
Jane left the nursery, heading back down to the basement. In the kitchen, the two copper cans were waiting on the stove, full of boiling water.
Jane grabbed the handles. They were hot, even through her thick apron. She carried the cans out of the kitchen and began the climb.
She climbed two flights of stairs, her breath short, and the metal handles painfully dug into her palms; she shouldered open the service door to Justine’s dressing room.
In the fire-warmed dressing room, Jane poured hot water from heavy cans into the claw-foot tub. After adding cold water from a jug, the steam settled, and the bath was ready.
The bedroom door opened. Justine walked in. She was wearing her riding habit. The heavy wool skirt was damp and smelled like wet horse. Her face flushed from the cold air outside.
Justine sat on a low wooden chair. Jane knelt, gripping the heels of Justine’s muddy boots. Stiff with dried earth, she tugged until each one slid off.
Jane unbuttoned Justine’s heavy jacket and slid it off her shoulders. Jane’s hands trembled almost imperceptibly as she unfastened the last button of Justine’s riding skirt. Finally, Jane helped her out of the corset and chemise.
Slipping into the warm water, Justine leaned back with a soft sigh. She closed her eyes, resting against the smooth, cool porcelain as the world faded away.
A light dusting of freckles scattered across her cheekbones and the soft curve of her breasts. As she breathed, they rose gently, her nipples blushing the pink of spring flowers.
With a soft, soapy sponge, Jane tenderly washed Justine’s face.
Leaning her head back, Justine fixed a steady gaze on Jane, watching her face and moving hands.
Jane focused on the soap, keeping her gaze down. Justine watched her silently. The only sound was water dripping from the sponge.
Jane gently moved the sponge from Justine’s neck to her chest, gliding it under her breasts. The soft touch traced her abdomen and thighs.
Jane drew Justine from the water, enveloping her in a warm towel. Gently, Jane dried the sensitive curves of Justine’s thighs and the spaces between her toes. She finished the process with quick, detached strokes, leaving Justine suspended in a state of heightened awareness beneath the cloud of cooling powder.
Jane drew a clean white shift over Justine’s head, the soft cotton settling against her still-powdered skin. Next came the morning corset, and Jane positioned herself behind her, gripping the laces with purpose.
She tightened the laces gently, feeling the firm lift as the bodice embraced Justine’s curves, lifting and shaping her breasts in a soft, flattering swell above the fabric.
Jane tightened the final knot. Justine’s waist curved delicately and slenderly, the morning dress hugging her form, its fabric pulling taut over gentle curves that rose like a whispered promise toward her throat.
By the fire, Jane brushed Justine’s hair dry and pinned it into a neat coil, her fingers working quickly. She then held out a pale blue silk gown with a row of tiny pearl buttons. After Justine stepped into it, Jane fastened each one with a small silver hook.
Justine was ready.
The bedroom door opened, and Jane followed Justine down the grand hallway. A thick red carpet silenced their footsteps as they descended the main stairs—a route Jane was only allowed to take while walking behind her mistress.
They reached the dining room on the ground floor. Two footmen opened the heavy oak doors.
The room was large and shadowy. A long table occupied the center. At its head, Douglas Hardwood read a newspaper, eyes fixed on the page. To his right sat David, David was Douglas’s oldest, but in this room, he looked like a scared boy. His face was grey. His hands shook as he reached for his silver coffee cup.
Justine took her seat. Jane moved to the sideboard. She stood perfectly still against the wall.
The only sound was the clinking of silver forks against porcelain.
Douglas finally lowered his paper. He didn’t look at Justine. He looked at David’s shaking hand. David tried to pick up a piece of toast, but his fingers slipped. The toast fell back onto the plate with a soft thud.
Douglas watched the toast. Then he looked at David’s face. He didn’t say a word. He just stared with cold, blue eyes until David looked down at his lap.
Jane watched from the shadows. She saw David’s neck turn red. She saw Justine staring straight ahead, eating nothing.
In the cramped sewing room thick with the scent of fabric, Jane gripped the heated iron like a blade. Gently gliding it over the blue silk of the ballgown. A single misstep could have ruined the gown.
She heard voices in the hallway. The door was cracked open.
“I don’t know why you act like this,” a man said. It was Julien. His voice sounded thin. “I’m tired.”
Jane stopped the iron and stayed quiet.
Justine didn’t answer. Jane heard the sharp click-clack of Justine’s heels on the floor. The sound got louder, then faded away as she walked off.
Julien stood in the hall for a long time. Jane heard him let out a long sigh. Then, his footsteps moved in the other direction.
At noon, Jane went down to the basement. The servants’ hall was full of noise.
The hall was crowded. There were many new faces. Extra footmen and maids sat at the long wooden tables. They were hired just for the night, and all wore the same uniforms.
Jane sat at the end of the table with the other high staff. She had a plate of bread and cold beef. She finished her meal and stood up, taking her plate to the wash area.
She walked to the library. The hallways were busy with people carrying flowers and rugs. She opened the heavy oak doors.
The library was silent and smelled of old paper and dust. The curtains were pulled shut. The only light came from a small gap in the fabric.
David sat in a large leather chair. He had a green glass bottle in one hand and just stared into space.
His eyes were wide and red. He didn’t hear Jane come in. He didn’t even blink. He just sat there, slumped in the chair, breathing slowly.
Jane moved quietly to the shelves. She found a book for Justine and pulled it down.
A bit of wine spilled from the bottle onto David’s trousers, but he didn’t notice.
Jane took the book and left, shutting the door softly behind her. She crossed the Grand Hall as men on ladders added the final flowers.
The air hummed. The new electric lights flickered and filled the room with a bright, yellow glow.
Douglas stood in the hall’s center, clutching a gold pocket watch. He gazed upward, as if commanding the sun itself. His eyes shifted to the butler, acknowledging him with a brief nod. Time was on his side.
Her blonde waves caught the evening glow as Julia, in a silk robe, walked down the stairs. She squinted into the new light with sharp, clear blue eyes.
Jane moved past them. She went to the side door and saw Carlton walk in. His boots were dirty. His face was tired. He didn’t look at the lights or the flowers. He just headed straight for his room to change.
Jane went to the nursery. Brian sat on the floor, playing with his toys.
“Are you ready, Brian?” Jane asked.
The boy looked up. He looks scared of the bright lights in the hallway. “Do I have to go?” He asked.
“Just for a minute,” Jane said. She knelt and fixed his collar. “Be a good boy. Don’t make a sound.”
Jane left for Justine’s room. It was time for the final change. The sun was going down, and the rain began to hit the windows.
The blue gala dress was hanging on the wardrobe.
Justine stood in the middle of the room. She didn’t move. Jane worked fast. She removed the morning dress. Silk grazed the fullness of her chest. It whispered past the curve of her hip.
She tightened the laces of the evening corset. She pulled until Justine had to grip the bedpost to stay upright. Her knuckles whitened on the grip. She arched her back, a silent, strained movement. Her form presented itself, briefly, intensely framed by the sudden tension.
Jane’s focus remained absolute. The laces cinched tighter. The room held only the sound of fabric pulling taut.
Jane lifted the heavy gala gown and dropped it over Justine’s head. The silk made a soft hissing sound. Jane stood behind her. There were dozens of tiny silk loops and pearl buttons. Jane used her silver hook and moved her fingers like a machine.
Next, Jane brought the jewelry box. She placed a diamond necklace around Justine’s neck. The stones were cold. Jane fastened the clasp. She put the long silk gloves on Justine’s arms. They pulled tight all the way to the elbow.
Justine gazed at her reflection in the tall mirror. It showed the elegant sweep of her shoulders and the pale swell of her bosom, caught by the light. Her dark hair cascaded in waves, framing a pair of challenging, blue-green eyes.
Justine turned to look at Jane. For a second, she looked like she wanted to say something. She opened her mouth but stopped.
Jane felt a flicker of curiosity about what Justine wanted to say, but she quickly pushed it aside.
Downstairs, Jane heard the first carriage arrive. The gravel crunched beneath its wheels. The Gala had begun.
