A Transgender Regency Romance - Constantine has been raised as a boy, can she adapt to her new status?

“Do you want the left or the right side,” Alex asked her sister, standing at the end of the enormous bed, gesturing.

“You’re senior,” said Connie. “You should get first choice. What are in these side rooms?” She went to one of the doors and opened it.

Alex rushed to her side, and they explored it together, the room was larger than Connie’s private room at Harrow had been but similarly furnished with a narrow bed, a table and a set of shelves rather than a proper chest of drawers.

“Maid’s room,” concluded Alex.

“We’re going to have our own maid?” Connie asked. At Harrow, as many as eight boys shared a single servant whose charge was laundry, linens and leathers, in the jargon of the school. The boys kept their own spaces clean and even did their own sewing of minor repairs.

“Yes, we’ll share one for now,” said Alex. “But when we move to London in the spring, and I turn seventeen in March, we’ll have to each have our own, because mine will be so busy with my come-out.” She suppressed a giggle.

“Damn,” said Connie, startling her sister. “Is she going to sleep right here, practically in the room with us?”

“Oh, no,” said Alex. “Mama Genevieve is going to have the carpenters alter this space, so there are two boudoirs and two dressing rooms. I guess the maid will have to sleep somewhere else?”

“Do we—are you—” Connie seemed to shake off some of the questions she wanted to ask. “What’s a boudoir, anyway?”

Alex took her to one of the other doors and opened it. “A boudoir is a lady’s private parlor,” she said. And the room did fit that description with a small couch, two chairs, two tables, and the sort of serving cabinet used for storing items one might need when entertaining a guest. A bay window stretched the room and provided a view in three directions.

One door in the boudoir led back to the outer drawing-room, and another door opened into what Alex assured Connie was a dressing room, essentially a large walk-in closet with a dressing table, mirrors, skylights, and plentiful lamps and candlesticks. A second door in the dressing room led back to the bedroom.

“When the workmen finish, we’ll each have our own boudoir and dressing room,” Alex was saying as they re-entered.

“What’s this last door?” Connie asked, crossing the room with as strides as long as her petticoats would allow. She opened the room and gasped. “It’s full of books!” she almost squealed.

“Oh,” said Alex. “This was Genevieve’s sister’s room before she and her husband moved to Kent. This must have been Uncle Gregory’s library, see the other door?” She pointed, “That connects with the Stag Suite, his rooms, I’m sure.” She looked around, “I think Aunt Emmaline used her end as a writing room.”

“I love it!” said Connie. “I want this instead of a boudoir!”

“Uh—” Alex didn’t know quite what to say, but before she could try to put a damper on the idea, Miss Vivian called from the door to the parlor, “Girls? Genevieve wants you both in the little parlor downstairs to get ready to go to dinner.”

*

“We’re going to initiate you into one of the feminine mysteries,” Genevieve told Connie in a jocular tone. They had paused on the way to dinner, and her stepmother pulled the girl into an empty room where Miss Vivian had laid out some items on a table. Alexandra followed since the sisters had been holding hands.

“You want to be pretty for your father?” the governess asked Connie.

“Oh, she does,” Alex assured Miss V.

Connie winced but nodded. “I want Father to like me,” she said, sounding meek and younger than her fourteen years.

“Then we’re going to show you how to cheat a little,” said Genevieve. “You’re not really old enough for cosmetics, truly, and a family dinner is not the place to wear them, but you’ve been crying and do need a bit of help.”

They worked swiftly, a bit of powder to reduce her high color, then a bit of blush to restore the contours of her cheeks. “The trick is,” Genevieve was saying, “to make it look as if you are not wearing makeup at all.” A tiny dab of darkness on the inner fold of her eyelid. A bit of red pomade on her lips, applied, removed, applied again, and removed again so that only a hint of pink remained.

They showed her the mirror, and she gasped. For the first time, she did not see a boy’s head on her shoulders. “I am pretty,” she said wonderingly.

“Told you so,” giggled Alex.

“More than that,” Genevieve assured her. “You have your birth mother’s capacity for beauty. For a woman, it’s every bit as powerful as physical strength is for a man.”

Connie looked at her sideways. “Would it do me any good if I needed to bloody someone’s nose?” She was thinking of the prominent beak that had earned Felix Farthinger at Harrow the nickname Punch, and the satisfaction she had felt as her fist had connected with it.

Miss V and Genevieve both laughed. “Oh, girl,” Genevieve said, shaking her head, “you have no idea what you can do with such power.”

Alex laughed too, then headed on down the hall, at the urging of Miss V. “We’ll tell Father that you will be right behind us,” she said.

“Correct,” said Genevieve. “Thank you, Alex.” Then to Connie, “We’ll give her time to make that announcement, then you can make an entrance. For a woman, those are valuable, too.”

Connie nodded. She’d seen Genevieve manipulate the timing of her entrances before, and that was beginning to make sense to her. Her stomach clenched at the thought that everyone would be looking at her. “I’m going to throw up!” she warned her stepmother. But then, her nausea went away just as suddenly. “No, no, I’m not,” she sighed.

“Good girl,” said Genevieve, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

*

Dining at Debenham Manor was a formal occasion, most days. If there were few guests or none, thereby not requiring use of the great hall, the Marquess sat at one end of a long table in the smaller dining hall, with his wife on his left side and his heir on his right, if appropriate. Children under twelve were not seated at table unless it was only family.

Who counted as family, however, was flexible. For most occasions, Mr. Paul Atterbury, the estate steward, counted as family, and so too did his wife, Arlette. Unlike on many estates, the steward did not have his own residence but lived instead in a corner of the big manor house where his office and Malvoir’s were adjoining rooms.

Paul was a dark, slender man with an air of precision and competence about him. Malvoir trusted him as he would a brother, and Paul knew all the family secrets. Arlette was a blonde counterpart to Paul and acted as social secretary for Genevieve and the manor itself.

Gustavus was Malvoir’s cousin once removed, and counted as family, of course. A few years the Marquess’s junior, Big Gus Woolstone had served as a cavalry captain and been wounded in the Peninsular wars. For six years now, he had been living at Debenham while he recovered the use of his limbs. He still walked with two canes, and had lost four inches of height, but could again ride to the hunt which had become his chief pleasure in life.

Big Gus’s mother, Adelaide, had been from Hanover and a third cousin to the king, making Gus fourth cousin to the Prince of Wales. This odd, useless fact tickled Gus, and he frequently referred to the Prince Regent as Cuz or Cousin George. As in, “Cuz has really stepped in it this time,” or “Liverpool isn’t going to put up with Cousin George’s antics forever,” Liverpool being the long-serving Prime Minister and reluctant facilitator of the Prince’s profligate lifestyle.

Tilda, Gus’s aunt, also resided at Debenham, having been the big man’s nurse during the early years of his recovery. Now she served as Genevieve’s sometime companion and Alexandra’s tutor in piano, harpsichord, German, and watercolor. Technically no relation to the DeChambeaux at all, she still counted as family because of her connection to Gus through his mother.

All of these people were well apprised of Connie’s situation and had various levels of interest in seeing her attend dinner with the family for the first time dressed as a daughter. Most of them had a benevolent attitude toward the girl and wished her well.

Tilda, in particular, looked forward to engaging with a new pupil, Alexandra’s talents and dedication to art and music being less than ideal, to say nothing of her positive distaste for German.

Gus, many years before, had taught Constantine how to ride and jump a horse over obstacles. That the boy he’d instructed was now a girl, and in truth had always been a girl, bemused him. He wasn’t sure what to think about it. He had the germ of a thought about the girl, but development of that idea would rest on too many other things to spend any time planning, yet.

The two young boys, Thomas and Augustus, or Tom and Little Gus, Connie’s half brothers, would be attending this dinner too. Usually relegated to the children’s dining room, they would be seated at the high end of the table with Tom directly on the lord’s right and Little Gus next. Like little boys everywhere, they considered it part of their duty to annoy both of their sisters whenever possible.

Thomas, in fact, would likely be recognized as the heir at this dinner and perhaps addressed as Lord Debenham, the courtesy title than had belonged to Constantine.

Across the table, Alexandra would be seated next to her mother, then Connie, then Miss V, whose position as governess meant she counted as both family and servant.

Miss Vivian DuSangplein was also a cousin, of varying degrees, of the Marquess and, oddly, of both of his wives. Being of gentle birth, but as the dowry-less fifth daughter of a less than rich family, she had taken employment as governess of the Deschambeaux daughters. With the addition of Constance to her charges, she was satisfied that she still had years of responsibility ahead.

*

Most of these people were already seated when Alex came into the room, followed by her governess, Miss V. “Connie will be right in,” she assured her father, stopping by his seat at the head of the table. “Mama Genevieve is giving some special attention to her appearance.”

Malvoir did not look entirely happy with this. “Bring us tea and bread while we wait,” he told Davis, the chief footman.

“Milord,” agreed that worthy. The items required were already at hand and were soon served, along with dishes of butter and savory pickled meats.

Debenham was a grand manor, so the smaller dining hall easily had places for fourteen without crowding or bringing in extra chairs or additional tables. Eleven was no squeeze at all, the extra chairs were removed, and the diners spread out a bit more than usual.

A cozy room on a cool September evening, it contained two fireplaces, both of which burned only hardwoods and charcoal for better atmosphere. The fireplace at the parlor end was solely for warmth, while the larger one at the kitchen end had hooks and shelves for hanging foodstuffs that needed to be kept warm.

A butler’s hole next to the kitchen door, away from the fire, on the other hand, held items like wine, fruit, ale, butter and cheese that were better kept cool before serving. Alistair, the butler, chief of the house servants, customarily stood in front of this trove and presided over every dinner and any other meal of consequence.

Kitchen maids fetched the courses, placing them on buffet tables along the walls while footmen did the actual serving at table.

Alex took her seat on the left side of the table, leaving space between her father and herself for Genevieve on one side while Miss V took a chair farther down, leaving a place for Connie between her and Alex. Tilda already had the end spot on that side.

On the right-hand side, moving around the table, Thomas sat in the seat reserved for the heir, next to his father. Connie had formerly occupied that chair, and Thomas looked utterly pleased with himself to have taken it over.

Next to him sat Big Gus, mostly to keep the boys because Little Gus sat in the next seat. The steward and his wife took the last two places at the table, filling the right-hand side.

Only Genevieve and Constance were missing as Malvoir chose a piece of bread and raised his knife to butter it.

*

“Follow five steps behind me,” Genevieve told Constantine when they paused outside the dining-room door. “That way, everyone can get a good look at you without you being in my shadow.”

Connie, feeling like a boy in a costume again, nodded. He tried to glance back at the mirror for another view of himself as Constance, but the angle was wrong. Sighing, he stepped forward after Genevieve had proceeded through the door held open by a footman because the two rooms had different floor levels.

They entered from the parlor end of the dining room, at the foot of the table as it were, stepping down from the higher floor of the parlor two steps to the dining room level. Genevieve went first, and Connie paused at the top of the two steps to let his stepmother get five steps in front.

He started down, realizing as he did so that he could not see his feet. The footman presented a stiff forearm as he had for Genevieve. Constantine, feeling like a pure fool, placed one hand lightly on the footman’s arm for balance and lifted his skirts with the other hand so he could see where he was putting his feet.

Then it was just a matter of following his stepmother to find his seat between Alex and Miss V. And trying hard not to giggle when he noticed his father, the Marquess of Malvoir, staring at him while absent-mindedly buttering the back of his hand.