Free The Girl in the Mask by Marie-Louise Jensen

room and your wardrobe, such as it is, and then … ’
    His voice tailed off as he noticed the mess in my bedchamber, all my new possessions tumbled and kicked all over the floor and my spare gown lying on the chair where I’d dropped it. He surveyed it all in undisguised disgust and then brought his gaze to bear upon me.
    ‘I wasn’t aware that you chose to live like the pigs, Sophia,’ he said. ‘If we had a sty here at the Bath, I should send you out to sleep in it for the night. I’m sure you’d feel very much at home. Meanwhile, you’ll eat your dinner in your room tonight; a simple dish of bread and milk will suffice. That will give you a chance to tidy this disgraceful mess and to reflect on the virtues of orderliness.’
    I groaned inwardly at the thought of another hungry night. Meanwhile, father turned back to the maid: ‘Dawes, remove any unfashionable shoes from this room and dispose of them in the fire, would you?’
    My heart jumped into my mouth. My shoes! I couldn’t possibly do without them. My climbing and night-time wanderings would be at an end. I wondered where they could be in all this mess, and resolved to hide them the moment the new maid had left the room.
    ‘I’ll leave you to sort things out,’ said my father and left us. Dawes and I stared at each other as his footsteps receded. I felt compelled to speak:
    ‘There isn’t much dressing to do just yet, as you can see, Dawes,’ I said, indicating my shabby gown and my bare feet, annoyed to find my voice apologetic. ‘To tell the truth, I’ve never had a maid. I’ve always looked after myself.’
    ‘So I should suppose, Miss,’ she said with barely-concealed disdain. ‘But I can see that gown you have on wants mending. I’ll take that now, if you like.’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ I said, surprised. ‘Yes I tore it on a … well, yes, I tore it a few days ago. Thank you … ’ I untied the gown and handed it to her, picking up my spare brown one and wrapping it around me instead.
    ‘And the shoes your father mentioned, Miss?’ asked Dawes, unsmiling. She was a large woman with a sour expression on her face. ‘I’ll take those with me now too.’
    I froze in horror. I glanced involuntarily towards the pile of scattered belongings. My colour rose as I spotted the toe of one shoe sticking out of a jumble of boxes in front of the closet. I looked away again quickly, praying she wouldn’t see it.
    ‘Oh … I … you see, my father was mistaken, Dawes,’ I faltered. ‘The shoes he so dislikes have already been thrown away.’
    We stared one another out, and eventually Dawes dropped her eyes. ‘If you say so, Miss,’ she said. I knew she didn’t believe me. She would almost certainly search my room at the first opportunity, but that would give me the chance I needed to hide my valuable footwear.
    I didn’t dare use the chimney and there were no loose boards in such a new house, so I merely laid the shoes outside on the parapet, out of sight of the window. I would need to find a box or a piece of oilskin to protect them before it rained next. But Dawes certainly wouldn’t climb out there looking for them; she had enough trouble with the stairs. I grinned to myself at the image of Dawes attempting to squeeze herself through my small window.

    My days resolved into a pattern for the rest of the week. Dancing for an hour and a half before breakfast was a regular torture, my meal dependent on my teacher’s comments at the end of the session. The first few days I had no breakfast, and found myself forced to concentrate hard on pleasing the dancing master to avoid the long, hungry days that followed if I didn’t. The rest of my tedious waking hours were spent deliberately wrecking some piece of stitching foisted on me by my aunt or leafing through the book of religious discourses my father had given me in the vain hope of distraction.
    My nights on the other hand were entertaining, out roaming the city which I began to know well. I