(eng) Kage Baker - Nell Gwynne 01 by The Women of Nell Gwynne's

Author:The Women of Nell Gwynne's [Gwynne's, The Women of Nell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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EIGHT:

In which Proper Historical Costuming is discussed

THEY WERE GRUDGINGLY served tea in the pantry, and then ushered into another low dark room wherein were a great number of florist's boxes and a neatly folded stack of bedsheets.

"Those are your costumes," said Pilkins, with a sniff.

"Rather too modest, aren't they?" remarked Lady Beatrice. "Or not modest enough. What are we intended to do with them?"

Pilkins studied the floor. "His lordship wishes you to fashion them into, er, togas. The entertainment planned is to resemble, as closely as possible, a—hem—bacchanal of the ancient Romans. And he wishes you to resemble, ah, nymphs dressed in togas."

"But the toga was worn by men," Lady Beatrice informed him. Pilkins looked up, panic-stricken, and gently Lady Beatrice pressed on: "I suspect that what his lordship requires is the chiton, as worn by the ancient hetaerae."

"If you say so," stammered Pilkins. "With laurel wreaths and all."

"But the laurel wreath was rather worn by—"

"Bless your heart, dear, if his lordship wishes the girls to wear laurel wreaths on their heads, I'm sure they shall," said Mrs. Corvey. "And what must they do, besides the obvious? Dance, or something?"

"In fact, they are to bear in the dessert," said Pilkins, resorting to his handkerchief once more. "Rather a large and elaborate refreshment on a pallet between two poles. And if they could somehow contrive to dance whilst bringing it in, his lordship would prefer it."

"We'll do our best, ducks," said Maude dubiously.

"And there are some finger-cymbals in that red morocco case, and his lordship wishes that they might be played upon as you enter."

"In addition to dancing and carrying in the dessert," said Lady Beatrice.

"Perhaps you might practice," said Pilkins. "It is now half-past noon and the dinner will be served at eight o'clock precisely."

"Never you fear," said Mrs. Corvey. "My girls is nothing if not versatile."

At that moment they heard the sound of a coach entering the courtyard. "The first of the guests," exclaimed Pilkins, and bolted for the door, where he halted and called back "Sort out the costumes for yourselves, please," before closing the door on them.

"Nice," said Mrs. Corvey. "Jane, dear, just open the window for us?"

Jane turned and obliged, exerting herself somewhat to pull the swollen wood of the casement free. The light so admitted was not much improved, for the window was tiny and blocked by a great deal of ivy. "Shall I try to pull a few leaves?" Jane asked.

"Not necessary, dear." Mrs. Corvey stepped close to the window and, removing her goggles, extended her optics through the cover of the vines.

"What do you see?"

"I expect this is the Russian," said Mrs. Corvey. "At least, that's a Russian crest on his coach. Prince Nakhimov, that was the name. Mother was Prussian; inherited businesses from her and invested, and it's made him very rich indeed. Well! And there he is."

"What's he look like?" asked Maude.

"He's quite large," said Mrs. Corvey. "Has a beard. Well dressed. Footman, coachman, valet. There they go—he's been let off at the front door, I expect.

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