Page 40 of The Cornish Mermaid

Morvoren followed Ysella along the corridor to a door at the end, opposite Kit’s own room. As he was even now downstairs enjoying a glass of port with Sam Beauchamp, who’d come up to the house after dinner, it was safe to investigate the school room.

The light of the two candles flickered over a room festooned with white dust covers that reminded Morvoren of the box room at Jago’s farm, only a lot larger. Sure enough, as Ysella had said, to one side four large wooden chests stood uncovered. Ysella set down her candle and dived into the first one with unholy glee, rummaging through shirts, breeches, and jackets, and making an untidy mess all around her.

Eventually, she tossed several pairs of different colored knee breeches to the floor by Morvoren’s feet and said, “Better try them on. I’ve noticed boys are not quite the same shape as we young ladies. Smaller bottoms for a start. And I’ve grown a bit since I last availed myself of these clothes.”

Entering into the spirit of the game, Morvoren kicked off her slippers and pulled a pair of navy breeches on over her underwear. The flap at the front had her foxed for a moment, but she soon had the buttons fastened. She wrinkled her nose. “They don’t feel terribly secure around the waist. Walking far in them might be embarrassing.”

Ysella clearly had found the same problem. “There are laces at the back,” she said, twisting around to peer at her rear view, while also holding most of her petticoat and gown out of the way. “Could you take a look, do you think? And tighten them for me?”

Morvoren examined Ysella’s pert rear view by the inadequate candlelight. Yes, there were ties. She pulled them as tight as she could and did them up. “Is that better?”

She nodded. “Let’s see if I can do the same for you.”

She could and did. The breeches felt a sight more secure, although Morvoren couldn’t help but think braces would have been useful.

“Now for shirts and shoes,” Ysella said with determination, letting her skirts drop down over her breeches. “Our own stockings will be fine. And maybe coats?”

Coats turned out to be the biggest problem, as Kit had clearly been a slender boy and none of his coats seemed made for a womanly shape. No surprise, really. Morvoren fished a plain brown waistcoat out of the chest and held it up. “Will this do? We could wear waistcoats unbuttoned over shirts.”

Ysella had found some shirts. “And these are nicely baggy so will hide our somewhat differently shaped top halves.” She giggled. “Have you ever done this before? It’s such fun to have the freedom of breeches after always having to wear a gown. No wonder men don’t want us to discover it for ourselves.”

Morvoren bit her lip, not quite sure how far she should share her own experiences. Well, why not throw caution to the wind? “I grew up on a farm,” she confided. “And I practically lived in trousers for most of my life. It was just much more practical. No one thought it odd.”

Ysella sat back on her heels, a natty red neckerchief in her hands. “Really? You’re so lucky. I can’t imagine what Mama would say if she could see us now. I don’t believe she ever did anything exciting in her whole life. Your parents must have been very unusual.” She paused, a small frown wrinkling her brow. “Where are they now?”

Morvoren sucked in her lips. “They died. About four years ago now, while I was at university.”

Ysella’s eyes widened, glittering with the reflected flame of her candle. “I’m so sorry.” She laid a comforting hand on Morvoren’s arm. “But you said university? How have you been to university? Aren’t only men allowed to go?”

Uh oh. Big mistake. Morvoren floundered for a moment. “Just a slip of the tongue,” she managed, annoyed with herself for having mentioned it. “I meant that I was still at school. Of course girls can’t go to university. What would the world be coming to if we could? We’d be able to do the sorts of jobs men can do.” She laughed, aware of how false she sounded and wishing she hadn’t had to lie. How easy it was to make mistakes in Ysella’s relaxed company. She needed to be more careful what she said.

Moving on to the second chest provided a collection of Kit’s old footwear, some of it so small it must have belonged to him as a young child. Morvoren had to conquer an irrepressible, and downright silly, urge to take one of the small shoes back to her room to put under her pillow. She pulled herself together and, after trying on a few pairs, selected some stout buckle shoes that possessed the heels necessary to make riding safe. How odd, though, to be wearing Kit’s old clothes. A warm glow had settled on her since she’d slid into the breeches, and now, complete in his shoes as well and with one of his waistcoats on over her pretty gown, it wouldn’t go away. Good thing Ysella couldn’t see her warm cheeks by this light.

“We’d best hurry,” Ysella said, glancing over her shoulder at the slightly ajar door. “Lest Kit should choose to come to bed and notice a light in here. He’s so very nosy. If he catches us, he’ll be bound to put a stop to what we have in mind. He’s become such a spoilsport since he inherited Papa’s title.”

Hurriedly, they stuffed everything they didn’t want back into the chests, then, still wearing their borrowed breeches under their skirts and carrying the rest of their loot, hastened to their respective rooms.

Loveday was waiting in Morvoren’s. There was no way of avoiding embroiling her in this escapade. Morvoren dropped the shoes, shirt and waistcoat on the bed and rounded on her, determined she wasn’t going to get a chance to blab.

“No. Don’t speak until you’ve heard me out.” Morvoren lifted the hem of her dress to reveal the navy breeches she’d purloined. “You’re not to tell anyone I’ve got these clothes or I shall have to ask Kit to send you back to Nanpean on the next cart going west.” She reeled in shock at how easily she’d slipped into the role of entitled Regency lady and nearly spoiled the effect by apologizing.

A mixture of emotions flitted across Loveday’s face—surprise and irritation, but both swiftly followed by curiosity. “What be you wantin’ those boy’s clothes for then?” she asked, not bothering to even acknowledge the threat.

Morvoren dropped the hem of her dress. “It’s best you don’t know. Can you unfasten my gown for me? I have to be up early tomorrow with Ysella.” She turned her back on Loveday. No way could she get out of this dress by herself. What it was to be a Regency young lady and unable even to get ready for bed on your own.

Loveday began undoing the ties that held the back of the dress together from neckline to waist. “You be up to some mischief, I’ll be bound, with that Miss Ysella. I’ve heard about her from Martha. She’s not happy unless she’s up to somethin’. You want to watch she doan get you into trouble, Miss Morvoren.”

As Loveday was right in her surmise, Morvoren remained silent until her gown had been removed. A sudden realization dawned. She’d need her stays in the morning, drat it. She’d have to rope Loveday in as she couldn’t put them on by herself.

She swung round, now only wearing her light shift. “All right. I’ll tell you. I’m to teach Ysella how to ride her horse astride, but we can’t let anyone know, as people…” and by this she meant Kit and his mother and probably all the servants, “… don’t think riding astride is ladylike. But it is. It’s how I’ve always ridden. So, we’ll be riding really early, and I’ll need your help to put on my stays.”

Loveday pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “An’ if I helps you, you’ll be sure an’ not let Mr. Kit send me back to Nanpean when he finds out what you done?”

Morvoren nodded. “Of course. You’re my maid now, not his. And if you help me, you’ll be my friend forever.” Probably bribery would work better than threats.

Loveday remained silent for a minute, possibly considering whether Morvoren had enough power to force Kit not to send her back if he found she’d helped. Then she nodded. “All righty. What time d’you want me here by?”

Morvoren smiled. “Six, please. Ysella says Kit will be working all morning with Samuel Beauchamp in the estate office, so we should have a good three hours before Lady Ormonde gets up and we need to be in and changed for breakfast. That should be plenty of time.”