The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,62

well as being one of the wealthiest landowners in the county, Henry Rettingham was still a very handsome man.

‘I don’t think Grandmother sees it that way!’ she said.

‘You have to make allowances for her. Things were very different in her day. Making a good marriage was the ultimate goal for girls of your age. Which is why she’s so determined to help you.’

No one could doubt the Dowager Countess had done her best, Millie thought. She had been well educated, sent to finishing school in Switzerland, where she had been taught to dance and arrange flowers. Before the Season, she had taken endless lessons in how to curtsey at Madam Vacani’s school in Kensington.

And yet, despite all her new-found talents, she still hadn’t managed to find a husband.

‘I don’t understand it,’ her grandmother had said. ‘It’s not as if you’re a pauper. You would think someone would want to marry you for your money, if nothing else.’

‘I must be a great disappointment to her,’ Millie said ruefully now.

‘You’re certainly not a disappointment to me.’ Her father reached across and took her gloved hand in his. ‘You’re a fine young woman, Amelia. I’m very proud of you, and I know your mother would have been proud too.’

Millie’s smile trembled as she squeezed his hand. She wished more than anything she could have known her mother. It would have meant everything to her to see her face for herself, instead of having to make do with just a few old photographs and a portrait hanging over the fireplace in the great hall.

‘Anyway,’ her father said, brightening. ‘I’m not planning to drop dead just yet. You’ve got plenty of years to carry on nursing before you have to think about providing a son and heir for Billinghurst!’ He pulled at Samson’s head to turn him around. ‘Now let’s go and take a look around the estate, shall we? If we’re not back for luncheon I feel sure your grandmother will not be very happy with me.’

Millie was enjoying herself so much, she was very reluctant to head back to the house, knowing what lay in store for her. Sure enough, as soon as luncheon was over, her grandmother ushered her up to her room to start getting ready for the Claremonts’ New Year’s Eve Ball.

Millie wasn’t looking forward to the preparations but she was looking forward to spending time with her maid Polly and catching up on all the gossip below stairs. So she was disappointed when she found her grandmother’s maid Louise waiting for her instead.

Louise was in her fifties, French and very proper. She had been with the Dowager Countess since she was a girl, and now fancied herself almost as grand as the old lady herself.

‘Where’s Polly?’ Millie asked.

‘Drawing a bath for you, my lady. Her ladyship thought that you might both benefit from my experience in the matter of preparing for this evening.’

Millie found Polly in the bathroom, looking resentful as she filled the tub with steaming water.

‘Her ladyship doesn’t trust me,’ she grumbled.

‘No, Polly, I’m afraid it’s me she doesn’t trust.’ Her grandmother clearly wasn’t taking any chances on Millie making it through the evening without disaster.

Louise was as tyrannical as her mistress. She bullied them both mercilessly, sending Polly scurrying here and there while she tutted and fussed over Millie at the dressing table with powder and lipstick and hairpins.

‘What have you done to your hair?’ she demanded, dragging an ivory-handled brush through what was left of Millie’s curls.

‘I didn’t have time to go to the salon, so I cut it myself.’ Millie enjoyed seeing the shock on both their faces, reflected in her dressing-table mirror. ‘It was terribly easy, I just chopped a bit off here and there so I could get it all under my cap. It’s an awful nuisance otherwise.’

Millie hoped she might at least have some say in what she wore for the evening, but Louise had already consulted Grandmother on the matter. She couldn’t fault their choice. Her dress was heavy crêpe, cut fashionably on the bias. The blush-pink colour flattered her pearly skin and blonde hair perfectly.

Millie twirled in front of the cheval glass. It was a long time since she’d worn anything vaguely becoming, let alone pretty. Her kid shoes were so light after the stout, sensible black shoes she usually wore, she felt as if she could dance all night.

Meanwhile Louise continued to tut and fuss over her appearance. Her hair was still all wrong, she didn’t hold herself