needed to apply some lotion to her poor hands which were red-raw.
Once she had dragged her high-necked, white cotton nightgown over her head and rubbed the last of her lavender-scented hand lotion into her sore fingers, she felt sufficiently revived to set about making the room her own. Unpacking her familiar things in these unfamiliar surroundings was a bitter-sweet experience. She hesitated before placing her silver-backed brushes on the dresser.
It seemed strange to see them there after all the years they had sat on the same dressing-table in her small bedroom at Hill School. She laid her glass-topped hairpins next to them along with her lavender soap and glass stoppered bottle of rosewater, but the dresser still looked empty. Its large proportions proclaimed it for a gentleman’s dresser in truth, along with the large rectangular swivel mirror that topped and the two-drawer locked hatbox that stood above the drawers.
Nothing about it looked dainty or feminine, despite her scattered things. She thought fleetingly of Ivy’s cosmetics and perfume bottles strewn across her chest of drawers in the room opposite, but she had nothing like that. Only once, Mina had dared to spend her saved pennies on a thrilling box of pearl powder done up in pink tissue paper which promised miraculous transformative powers for a rosy glow. Some of the girls at Hill school had sworn by it, and in truth, Mina had not been so very much older than many of their pupils. Her mother however had been so horrified and disappointed that Mina had been forced to throw it out before she’d even had a chance to try it.
Painting your face is the height of vulgarity, her mother had denounced in shocked, hushed tones. Only fallen women would indulge in such depravity. When Mina had wept penitently, her mother had patted her shoulder and promised she would not tell her father of her fall from grace. Not all girls are intended to be beauties, her mother had explained gently. We must accept our lot in life with good grace. Your father and I are simply glad you have been spared the snares and temptations that a beautiful face brings with it. No doubt, she had meant it as a heartening pep talk, but Mina had been left feeling plainer than ever.
It was only when Mama had died and Mina had been clearing out her toiletry case that she had come across the secret compartment which held Mama’s own stash of rice powder for the complexion, a handful of burnt sticks for darkening her lashes and a tin of pink balm for her lips or cheeks, Mina wasn’t sure which. Dear, hypocritical Mama. Mina had thrown the contents out without ever telling anyone. The fancy walnut lacquered box with its velvet lining and silver-topped bottles had been sold along with Mama’s French bronze vanity set with the pretty blue guilloche pattern. The proceeds had been used to buy a new morning coat for Papa to meet with their esteemed governors.
Now, picking up her hairbrush and running it through her damp locks, she almost wished she had kept the contraband beautifying products. She looked a pale, drab thing she told herself, looking herself full in the face. The mirror showed her depressing reflection. Like one of those gloomy paintings of Ophelia floating down a stream, singing to herself with her hair full of weeds. It was no wonder her groom had left her in the church. Setting down her hairbrush, she caught herself up short. She hardly wanted William Nye’s attentions, she told herself sternly. What on earth was she thinking of?
Then she remembered she did have some jewelry to her name after all and went to fetch her stocking. Upending it, she retrieved her mother’s silver locket and her father’s gold watch and chain which she had stashed in the toe for safekeeping while she bathed. Jewelry would add a finishing touch to the dresser. She set them down in a few different places before she was satisfied, and then ran to her trunk to find the small china dog that one of her ex-pupils had given her as a farewell gift. Her father had laughingly said it looked like a long-haired ferret, stood on its back legs, but Mina knew it was supposed to be a pampered little lap dog such as society ladies owned. She set him carefully down and then returned to her trunk.
Mama’s engraved silver teapot, spoons, and sugar bowl she set on an empty shelf