Chapter 21 - Essence of Hemlock

As this is a Regency story, there is bound to be some AU-ness and OOC-ness. Please bear with me. Emphases are in italics and titles of books &ca are underlined. This story places great stress on the significance and meanings of flowers.

Extensive footnotes follow the chapter. Readers who are antipathetic to them have been warned.

Language of Flowers

Chapter 21 – Essence of Hemlock

Having left the warlike fools to themselves, Miss Granger transfigured her Malfoy pageboy livery into a sober grey carriage gown and pelisse favoured by governesses in England. At Lady Ginevra's curious stares, she tersely explained that it would be more acceptable for them if they were perceived as a lady and her abigail rather than two ladies of Quality. They would Apparate to Paris and seek the protection of the English Embassy. In the meantime, they had to stay together so as not to lose one another on their way there. Lady Ginevra, however, protested as she was exhausted from the long hours of travelling and could not rely on her poor Apparating skill to transport her slim form to the French capital. Looking skywards as if bemoaning her fate to be caught in these imbroglios, Miss Granger took hold of her friend's hand when they emerged from Rayon Elegante and Apparated them both to Paris proper. Had Miss Granger been given her way, she would have immediately made her way to the English Embassy. As the situation stood, she could not because the Apparation attempt left Lady Ginevra very giddy and almost as green as her fashionable moss green travelling gown.

The fatigue of her friend led Miss Granger's usual presence of mind to think on finding a respectable hostelry where they could rest the night and partake of some supper. Her friend implored her not to adopt this course of action for the present. Lady Ginevra declared that she would sit awhile and if she persisted in feeling worn, then they would spend the night a nearby hostelry. "I finally understand, Hermione, why you are determined not to marry," commented Lady Ginevra, resting her head on her friend's shoulder. "Not comme il faut at all."

"Disgusted with Villiers already?" chuckled Miss Granger in forced merriment. "I shall make a present of this special licence to Neville so that he can marry your Bulstrode when we get back. We two could stand as sponsors."

"Why?" quizzed Lady Ginevra, as she played the ribands of her bonnet.

"Ape-leaders, such as ourselves, cannot afford to offend the other amiable people who wish to court the disasters of matrimony.

"I hate being stranded," complained Lady Ginevra as she gazed in admiration at her friend. "But it's not so bad with you. You always know what to do."

"It's not a matter of knowing or not knowing or not knowing what to do. It's trying to maintain an orderly habit of mind."

"Society is right," she finally said, abandoning her mood of self-pity.

Miss Granger smiled dryly, fighting the urge apparate home with her friend. "About what?"

"Oh. It is right to say that your book learning translates into valuable sense. Take our present state of affairs – we are stranded in a foreign country and you are not the least bit frightened. You've learnt a great deal more at Garswoth than the rest of us ever did."

She only smiled at her friend's convoluted complimented as she patted her hand. "You could be patron to my school or become a teacher."

"What school?"

"A seminary for young ladies where they would have a real education," Miss Granger said, her eyes brightening at the thought of her dream.

"Perhaps," replied Lady Ginevra in a non-committal tone. "I'm feeling better now."

"Good, then we can claim assistance with the English Embassy," said Miss Granger firmly.

The grand wizarding English Embassy guard allowed the two young ladies into the compound after ascertaining that they were indeed English. Resolutely, the women linked arms and entered the imposing building. They found themselves in a pleasant antechamber with a pair of stairs running up the galleries to the offices of the diplomats. An enquiry with the pretty blonde clerk packing her things for the day revealed that the Ambassador Countess Tonks was engaged in Dijon until the morrow. "Furthermore," she informed them in French accented English, "it is too late for anyone to be working upstairs. If you wish, the Embassy will put you up at a respectable inn and make an appointment with the Ambassador for you."

"The Ambassador is my aunt," implored Lady Ginevra, making a play with wet lashes, hoping that it would win the fair clerk's sympathy. Miss Granger smirked with the knowledge that the relationship between the Weasleys and Tonks were so far removed from the family that Lady Tonks would more properly be called a cousin.

"I am sorry, Mademoiselle," insisted the clerk. "If you wish me to arrange for a room at the Maison Angleterre and some money, I will do so. Beyond that, I can do nothing."

Miss Granger was about to give vent to a sharp retort in French that was on the tip of her tongue when a soft voice and footsteps came down on the stairways.

"You are barbaric, Mademoiselle Delacour. These are English ladies, hein? Less elegant than the French, I know, but can you blame them for their fashions. England's fashions are a year behind Paris's, n'est ce pas?" purred the mellifluous carefully moderated voice in French. Miss Granger smiled to herself when she caught the ironic lilt in their interlocutor's voice.

Lady Ginevra and Miss Granger carefully examined the source of the voice. It appeared to belong to a tall gentleman dressed in a beautiful suit of black cloth faced with silver, clasping his silver handled cane delicately in one hand and perfumed handkerchief with the other. He was dressed at the height of the fashion at Versailles. In the tasteful lace arrangement of his cravat, there was the tiniest hint of an emerald. It was initially thought that he had worn a powdered wig, but soon saw that his hair was platinum blond and neatly tied with a black riband. His thin mouth was curled into something akin to a knowing smirk. As he descended the stairs to their level, it became evident to the ladies that he was middle-aged. This gentleman was indeed a person of some importance for he had left Mademoiselle Delacour stammering. He pointedly ignored the clerk and swept the distant ladies a profound bow gracefully flourishing his handkerchief. As he did so, Miss Granger caught sight of a cynical gleam in the man's hard eyes. He addressed Miss Granger very civilly in a crisp English accent. "Forgive Miss Delacour, she is new to the Embassy. You and your mistress, or should I say, your friend, are in some distress? Pray, inform me how I can serve you?"

The two ladies curtseyed gracefully.

"We wish to see the Ambassador," Miss Granger stated plainly.

"Regrettably, Lady Tonks will not be back until the morrow. We are keen to return to England as soon as possible. We would also like..." Lady Ginevra paused, uncertain how to continue.

Miss Granger pretended to fuss over her friend. "We have had the most trying experience. My friend is still shaken. If you would be so kind as to bespeak a room for us at a respectable hostelry, we will be most thankful."

The gentleman raised his brow in mild interest as he examined Lady Ginevra. "Your friend mentioned the need for protection. As a person working closely with the Ambassador, I insist you tell me all and I shall do all I can to assist you."

"It is very kind of you, sir, but we would prefer to speak to the Ambassador herself."

His cool glance rested on the ladies in a lazily though meaningful way that they both found familiar. "Ladies," he said with an air of calm authority. "Your virtues are quite wasted on a seasoned diplomat."

"A woman can never be too certain," offered Lady Ginevra, tossing him one of her arch looks.

His lips quirked into a smirk as a nerve in his temple throbbed delicately. "Really? You must edify me then. Mademoiselle Delacour." He turned abruptly to the clerk and addressed her in French, "Escort the ladies to my office for a light supper. The ladies are to sup with me."

"This is most improper," Miss Granger demurred to the gentleman in English, holding on to her friend's hand.

"Allow me to assuage your fears, Mademoiselles; I have the acquaintance of Lady Ginevra's father and the Duke of Sanguine."

Lady Ginevra paled and trembling gasped, "My father," at the same time Miss Granger uttered in astonishment, "The Duke of Sanguine?"

"Ladies, do not lose your composure. It is in poor taste. I believe I can tell Miss Granger apart from Lady Ginevra."

"The Duke of Sanguine is a man with uncanny perspicacity," muttered Miss Granger, eyeing the gentleman suspiciously.

Before any more could be said, they were alerted that supper was ready in the gentleman's office. The first door on the second floor down the hall proved to be this man's working apartments. It was neat in appearance and tastefully decorated. The escritoire's contents were safely locked within it and it backed a shelf of books. Covers were laid on a table in the left corner of the room and the candles were already lit. "Tell me," he began in an enigmatic tone as he helped them to sit "How can I serve you, ladies?"

"Who are you?" asked Miss Granger bluntly, in contrast to her friend's shyness.

The gentleman smirked. "Why do you need to know?"

"I am suspicious," she said, incurably honest. "Have I had the pleasure of your acquaintance some time ago? If so, it explains why you are familiar. Pray, remind me of our last meeting as my memory seems to fail me."

He sipped his soup delicately. "A diplomat is my position has every reason to be suspicious of two young ladies travelling unescorted."

The gentleman and Miss Granger then exchanged intelligible looks of mutual respect and distrust with half smiles.

"We understand each other perfectly," Miss Granger said, nodding to her friend.

"Quite so," replied the gentleman. "If I am to assist you, I deserve some information."

Lady Ginevra gave Miss Granger a wild dart of alarm. Miss Granger allayed her friend with a sharp glance before calmly regarding the stranger over the brim of her wine glass. "We regret that we are unable to furnish you with the truth."

"You have just revealed, my dear, that there is someone else in this story," reminded the gentleman.

"It would impugn my character to deny your acuity of mind," said Miss Granger darkly as Lady Ginevra uneasily shifted her gaze to the stranger.

"So your lips, Miss Granger, are sealed out of consideration for Lady Ginevra and another person. Your modesty does you credit Miss Granger, as does your loyal protection of your friend, and your intelligence. But I feel you must realise your considerations are needless for Lord Villiers had informed the Embassy he would be arriving with Lady Ginevra."

Both ladies started; Miss Granger's eyes narrowed at the gentleman's cynical ones and Lady Ginevra's hand flew to her mouth.

"He was not the only one to inform the Embassy," revealed the gentleman with a smirk. "The Duke of Sanguine owled the Embassy a dossier of Lord Villiers's latest exploits. He specifically requested me to enquire for you, Miss Granger.

"How did he know I would be in Paris?"

"He is uncannily omniscient." The gentleman leaned carelessly in his chair in a manner that Lady Ginevra found familiar. "Do not distress yourselves. Tell me all; disabuse me of all the facts the Embassy has received."

Miss Granger and Lady Ginevra exchanged looks; one's face was furrowed in grim determination, the other's was uncertainty.

"Before my friend begins our story, I beg you, sir, to bear in mind that it was no one's fault," Lady Ginevra interposed.

"It is very often the case that no one is at fault, Lady Ginevra. Miss Granger, if you please," said the gentleman, mocking her with his cynical eyes.

Meeting his eyes with a hard defiant gaze of her own, Hermione began, "You may or may not have heard that Villiers had nearly killed, nay, has killed Lady Ginevra's brother, Lord Percy Weasley. He was advised to flee the country while the matter, a sorry accident at a gaming establishment, was under investigation."

"Undoubtedly, he was advised by a worthy confidant," murmured he with a satirical smile. Lady Ginevra was watching intently now, inclining her head towards Miss Granger as a sign of wariness. Acting as if he had caught the ladies' exchange of uneasy looks, he continued lightly, "Did Lord Villiers seek to make amends to the family by offering for Lady Ginevra?"

Hermione glared at him with indignation. How dare he make such a rude supposition! "While his lordship and Lady Ginevra have had a long standing understanding, they have only been engaged for nigh a week." Miss Granger met his careless gaze with a challenging and faintly satirical look of her own. "They were obliged to flee. More accurately, Lord Villiers left a billet for Lady Ginevra, and they fled together. Upon her departure, it fell into the hands of two of her brothers and from thence, into mine. I feared that Lord Villiers had relapsed into his former way of life (which had been extremely dissipated) and sought to put an end to the affair. In the event that marriage was indeed contemplated, I brought with me a special licence. If marriage was not his intent, I hoped to compel him to marry Lady Ginevra. Armed with the special licence, I was prepared for both scenarios. I had hoped to accompany them to the Embassy to see if I could act as a witness and request the Ambassador to expedite their union.

"Do I understand you correctly? You pursued them?" asked the gentleman with the faintest hint of amusement creeping into his eyes.

"As a page in the Malfoy colours," added Lady Ginevra, smiling at the memory.

The gentleman raised a delicate brow and commented, "Remarkable!"

"But I was unable to confront them at Calais as I arrived at too early an hour during the day. So, I waylaid them at the posting house, Rayon Elegante, where I discovered myself to them.* I was unable to carry out my self-appointed mission for who should burst into the private parlour of the inn but Lord Sterne."

The gentleman raised his brows sardonically and coldly commented, "Your emotions must baffle description at that moment."

Despite both ladies' glares, the gentlemen remained unperturbed and begged them to continue.

"Lord Sterne, with no blame on his part, assumed that Lord Villiers had abducted both Lady Ginevra and myself. His temper was most ugly."

"I am acquainted with him and his mordant temper. May I enquire how he culled such an idea?" asked the gentleman.

"This is on my account," Lady Ginevra slowly said, nodding meaningful at Miss Granger. "The Duchess of Mallefille did not approve of me because my family is not wealthy. She had intended for Lord Villiers to pay court and if possible marry Miss Granger, as she stands to inherit all at her father's death. To keep our assignations secret, Lord Villiers would pretend to court Miss Granger while she took me along for the sake of propriety. It appears to have incurred Lord Sterne's anger. You see, he was supposedly courting Miss Granger to be rid of Lady Sybill Trelawney. Although we announced our engagement at the Duchess's party, Lord Sterne continued to be suspicious over Miss Granger's friendship with Villiers."

"Such pretence is to be deplored," said the gentleman, shaking his head disapprovingly. "And his Lordship should know better than to make such an exhibition of himself."

"At the Rayon Elegante outside Argenteuil, I was - we were rudely shaken by the behaviours of Lord Villiers and Lord Sterne. They were about to duel with wands. Lord Sterne would hear no explanation and Lord Villiers would offer none," explained Lady Ginevra, setting down her wine glass.

"Did they end in killing each other?" asked the gentleman archly as he took a pinch of snuff delicately.

"We disarmed them. But prior to the duel, Lord Sterne was intent on choking Lord Villiers to death. He would have succeeded had I not delivered a stinging hex to his hands."

"Admirable," complimented the gentleman, looking respectfully at Miss Granger.

"It was time they ceased acting like children," reasoned the chocolate-eyed scholar.

"Was that how you managed to tear them apart?"

"Villiers has to be managed like a spoiled child," giggled Lady Ginevra, colouring a little at the thought of her beloved.

"Lord Sterne, on the other hand, is nothing more than a sulky child who assumes too much when the exigency of the situation clouds his better judgement," said Miss Granger pointedly.

"Indeed," said he with a ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "The Duke of Sanguine would have already seen all this. I have no doubt that His Grace of Mallefille would be very interested to meet women who are capable of mastering his son and friend in so masterly a fashion.

"I think not," laughed Lady Ginevra. "We have decided to have nothing to do with Villiers or Sterne. They have been unconscionable in their actions."

"They lack finesse," agreed the gentleman. "Yet it does not mean His Grace would not be most anxious to make amends to you both."

"He would not," answered Miss Granger with great conviction. "He is..." She broke off, biting her tongue to prevent her indiscreet remark from escaping her lips. "Are you well acquainted with the Duke?"

"Extremely well; in fact you might say that I have always been on most intimate terms with him" purred the gentleman with a lazy smirk.

"Then I had better say nothing."

"Has his son been telling you that he is a monster?" he asked, curling his lips into a snarl that he quickly mastered. "I have heard all the rumours about him; nothing you will say about him can possibly shock me."

"Oh no, we have never met the Duke," said Lady Ginevra earnestly. "We knew he was exiled for his part in the Wars."

"Lord Sterne once told me that Duke is, at heart, a reasonable person, a doting father and uxorious husband. But..."

The gentleman raised a brow waiting for Miss Granger to continue. "Such an encomium from Lord Sterne – I am all astonishment. But, you were about your reservation about his grace??"

"There is something sinister about him. Common report and Villiers's description informed us that he is unscrupulous in obtaining any ends in the service of his wife and son."

"The Duke would have no desire to meet me since I have broken my engagement to his son. I intend to announce it on my return to London," declared Lady Ginevra calmly.

"There is time yet for that, my dear. You were saying that Lord Sterne and Lord Villiers were about to duel with wands. Did you leave the wands in the room after you disarmed them?"

"Yes, we hoped that they would to their senses and discuss their differences civilly," offered Lady Ginevra.

"Lord Sterne would have killed Lord Villiers, if I know anything about him," chuckled the gentleman darkly.

"That is immaterial, Society will be better off with two less idiots," interjected Miss Granger coldly. "We Apparated here and wish for assistance in returning to England."

"And we wish for protection should then come here seeking us. We will have nought to do with them," stressed Lady Ginevra, folding her arms across her chest.

The sound of voices outside came to their ears before the stranger could reply. Lady Ginevra grew white and Miss Granger remained defiantly calm. "They have come. Will you assist us, sir? Tell them we will not see them."

The gentleman cast the women an appraisingly ironic look. "You are safe in my protection. Remain seated, ladies. No danger will befall you." The ladies looked at each other sceptically. "Come in," he said with an air of command.

"Sir, Lord Villiers and Lord Sterne have arrived; they look ready to commit murder," said the porter, as he poked his head through a tiny opening of the door.

"Send them in," insisted the gentleman.

"Please," pleaded Lady Ginevra impulsively grabbing the sleeve of his black coat. "I fear for you safety, sir. Villiers is an impulsive man, and," she paused to look to her friend. "And Lord Sterne is an ill-tempered one."

"You are safe here," he reiterated, dismissing the porter with a wave and nonchalantly smoothening out the creases in his coat.

The porter withdrew and the imperturbable stranger smiled at his companions as he delicately took another pinch of snuff. A moment later, the door flung open to reveal Villiers with his pistol drawn and Sterne with his hand on his wand. The two murderous men gasped at the sight of the stranger.

"You!" hissed Sterne in annoyance at the same time Villiers greeted the gentleman with a muted "Sir" on his lips.

"Your manners are still execrable, my Lord Villiers," the gentleman sharply reprimanded. Catching the smirk on the face of the other intruder, he added, "And yours are no better, my Lord Sterne. No wonder your ladies left you." Then delicately waving his hand carelessly at the two gentleman, he continued, "I trust you have resolved everything between yourselves."

Sterne scowled and Villiers nodded dumbly, clearly abashed. As the identity of the stranger suddenly occurred them, the ladies exchanged looks of incredulous shock with red spots rapidly spreading over their cheeks.

Footnotes:

Readers, you will notice that the title of the chapter contains the name of flowers/plants. This is significant to understanding the plot. While some of you may be familiar with the language of flowers, I beg you to allow for differences in interpretation. Some flowers/plants have one meaning during the time of the Regency and another during the Victorian era. My guess is that those of you familiar with this language are acquainted with the Victorian interpretation rather than the Regency one.

Naturally, there is also a deeper meaning beyond that of the flowers. What it is – I leave it to you to uncover.

(1) Hemlock means "You will be my death".

View it here http://www.lib.ksu.edu/wildflower/wildflower/hemlock.jpg, http://www.psu.missouri.edu/fishel/images/phemp4.JPG and http://www.botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/h/hemwat19-l.jpg. The Hemlock is a member of the great order Umbelliferae, the same family of plants to which the parsley, fennel, parsnip and carrot belong. Many of the umbelliferous plants abound in an acrid, watery juice, which is more or less narcotic in its effects on the animal frame, and which, therefore, when properly administered in minute doses, is a valuable medicine. Among these the most important is Conium, or Hemlock. Every part of this plant, especially the fresh leaves and fruit, contains a volatile, oily alkaloid, which is so poisonous that a few drops prove fatal to a small animal.

Hemlock is a tall, much branched and gracefully growing plant, with elegantly-cut foliage and white flowers. Country people very generally call by the name of Hemlock many species of umbelliferous plants, but the real Hemlock may be distinguished by its slender growth, perfectly smooth stem which is marked with red, and its finely-divided leaves which are also smooth.

It is a biennial plant, usually growing from 2 to 4 feet high, but in sheltered situations sometimes attaining nearly double that height. The root is long, forked, pale yellow and 1/2 to 3/4 inch in diameter. The erect, smooth stem, stout below, much branched above and hollow, is bright green, but (as already stated) is distinctively mottled with small irregular stains or spots of a port-wine colour and also covered with a white 'bloom' which is very easily rubbed off.

The leaves are numerous, those of the first year and the lower ones very large, even reaching 2 feet in length, alternate, longstalked, tripinnate (divided along the midrib into opposite pairs of leaflets and these again divided and subdivided in similar manner). The upper leaves are much smaller, nearly stalkless, with the short footstalk dilated and stem-clasping, often opposite or three together, more oblong in outline, dipinnate or pinnate, quite smooth, uniform dull green, segments toothed, each tooth being tipped with a minute, sharp white point.

The umbels are rather small, 1 1/4 to 2 inches broad, numerous, terminal, on rather short flower stalks, with 12 to 16 rays to the umbel. At the base of the main umbel there are 4 to 8 lance-shaped, deflexed bracts; at the base of the small umbels there are three or four spreading bractlets. The flowers are small, their petals white with an inflexed point, the stamens a little longer than the petals, with white anthers.

The fruit is small, about 1/8 inch long broad, ridged, compressed laterally and smooth. Both flowers and fruit bear a resemblance to caraway, but the prominent crenate (wavy) ridges and absence of vittae (oil cells between the ridges) are important characters for distinguishing this fruit from others of the same natural order of plants.

The entire plant has a bitter taste and possesses a disagreeable mousy odour, which is especially noticeable when bruised. When dry, the odour is still disagreeable, but not so pronounced as in the fresh plant. The seeds or fruits have very marked odour or taste, but when rubbed with a solution of potassium bi-oxide, the same disagreeable mouse-like odour is produced.

The poisonous property occurs in all parts of the plant, though it is stated to be less strong in the root. Poisoning has occurred from eating the leaves for parsley, the roots for parsnips and the seeds in mistake for anise seeds. Many children, too, have suffered by using whistles made from the hollow stems of the Hemlock, which should be extirpated from meadows and pastures since many domestic animals have been killed by eating it, though goats are said to eat it with impunity. Perhaps this is why we get bezoars from goats...

The Ancients were familiar with the plant, which is mentioned in early Greek literature, and fully recognised its poisonous nature. The juice of hemlock was frequently administered to criminals, and this was the fatal poison which Socrates was condemned to drink. The old Roman name of Conium was Cicuta, which prevails in the mediaeval Latin literature, but was applied about 1541 by Gesner and others to another umbelliferous plant, Cicuta virosa, the Water Hemlock, which does not grow in Greece and southern Europe. To avoid the confusion arising from the same name for these quite dissimilar plants, Linnaeus, in 1737, restored the classical Greek name and called the Hemlock (Conium maculatum), the generic name being derived from the Greek word Konas, meaning to whirl about, because the plant, when eaten, causes vertigo and death. The specific name is the Latin word, meaning 'spotted,' and refers to the stem-markings. According to an old English legend, these purple streaks on the stem represent the brand put on Cain's brow after he had committed murder.

Hemlock was used in Anglo-Saxon medicine, and is mentioned as early as the tenth century. The name Hemlock is derived from the Anglo-Saxon words hem (border, shore) and leác (leek or plant). Another authority derives the British name 'hemlock' from the Anglo-Saxon word healm (straw), from which the word 'haulm' is derived.

The use of Hemlock in modern medicine is due chiefly to the recommendation of Storch, of Vienna, since when (1760) the plant has been much employed, though it has lost some of its reputation owing to the uncertain action of the preparations made from it.

Culpepper's The Complete Herbal (1652) has the last word on the matter, "Saturn claims dominion over this herb, yet I wonder why it may not be applied to the privities in a Priapism, or continual standing of the yard, it being very beneficial to that disease. I suppose, my author's judgment was first upon the opposite disposition of Saturn to Venus in those faculties, and therefore he forbade the applying of it to those parts, that it might not cause barrenness, or spoil the spirit procreative; which if it do, yet applied to the privities, it stops its lustful thoughts. Hemlock is exceedingly cold, and very dangerous, especially to be taken inwardly. It may safely be applied to inflammations, tumours, and swellings in any part of the body (save the privy parts) as also to St. Anthony's fire, wheals, pushes, and creeping ulcers that arise of hot sharp humours, by cooling and repelling the heat; the leaves bruised and laid to the brow or forehead are good for their eyes that are red and swollen; as also to take away a pin and web growing in the eye; this is a tried medicine: Take a small handful of this herb, and half so much bay salt, beaten together, and applied to the contrary wrist of the hand, for 24 hours, doth remove it in thrice dressing. If the root thereof be roasted under the embers, wrapped in double wet paper, until it be soft and tender, and then applied to the gout in the hands or fingers, it will quickly help this evil. If any through mistake eat the herb Hemlock instead of Parsley, or the roots instead of a Parsnip (both of which it is very like) whereby happens a kind of frenzy, or perturbation of the senses, as if they were stupid and drunk, the remedy is (as Pliny saith) to drink of the best and strongest pure wine, before it strikes to the heart, or Gentian put in wine, or a draught of vinegar, wherewith Tragus doth affirm, that he cured a woman that had eaten the root."

(2) When I say "abigail" here, I mean lady's maid. In this case, the term is always spelt with a lower case 'a'. The task of such a person was to dress her mistress, style her hair and chaperone her mistress around town or in company. A lady would always call her abigail by her last name/surname only. This is the etiquette and I have kept to it. Ironically, the title and the name "Abigail" is Hebrew for "father rejoiced" – why is this ironic? Consider Hermione's relationship with her father and her present disguise as Ginny's abigail – it is apt, is it not? Furthermore, given Millicent Bulstrode's parentage, her present profession is also a very choice one...

(3) Riband is the old-fashioned spelling of ribbon.

(4) Comme il faut is a French phrase meaning "as it should be". It was very popular phrase in the Regency era.

(5) Ape-leader is Regency slang for an old spinster or an old maid. Once you had gone through 4 to 5 Seasons and still remained unmarried, you were deemed an ape-leader. In those days, they had their first Season at 16 or 18, depending on the young lady's rank, fortune, family, Father's desire to launch her, ability to find a suitable sponsor for the Season, state of her education and so on. Why were old spinsters/old maids called ape-leaders? It was believed and widely preached in church by the hellfire-and-damnation pastors that women who did not marry would be punished after death. Their punishment after death for failing to procreate would be to lead apes in hell.

* (6) The term "to discover myself to you" in Regency times means, "to reveal myself to you".

(7) When I say "malacca cane", I do not mean that the cane came from Malacca (a state in West/Peninsula Malaysia. (If you want to know more about Malaysia, email me and I will give you a history lesson.) The word "cane" had not been applied to the fashionable walking stick up to the 16th century. During his period, however, the thick, jointed stems of tropical grasses known as bamboo and cane, and the reed-like stem of several species of palm and rattan were introduced for the stick. These were called "canes." From that day forth, the walking stick of the past merged into the cane of the future. Today the terms are used interchangeable, though the saying. "One strolls with a walking stick and swaggers with a Cane!" tend to give greater dignity to the former. (Katherine Morris Lester and Bess Viola Oerke, Accessories of Dress, The Manual Arts Press, Peoria Illinois, p. 392.) A cane was an important accessory for a man from the late 17th century through the early 20th century. A cane made of quality wood, with a silver or gold handle, told of wealth and importance. Cane shafts usually were made of wood such as ebony or rosewood or malacca.

(8) The Rayon Elegante (a fictitious establishment) is placed in the outskirts of Argenteuil. Argenteuil was founded as a convent in the 7th century (the monastery and convent there is most famous for being the place that Heloise sought refuge in). It's in the famous Pierre Abelard and Heloise story. Those unaquainted with the story, perpend –

Living within the precincts of Notre-Dame, under the care of her uncle, the canon, Fulbert, was a girl named Heloise, of noble birth, and born about 1101. She is said to have been beautiful, but still more remarkable for her knowledge, which extended beyond Latin, it is said, to Greek and Hebrew. Abélard fell in love with her; and he sought and gained a place in Fulbert's house. Becoming tutor to the girl, he used his power for the purpose of seduction, and she returned his devotion. Their relations interfered with his public work, and were not kept a secret by Abélard himself. Soon everyone knew except the trusting Fulbert. When he found out, they were separated, only to meet in secret. Heloise became pregnant, and was carried off by her lover to Brittany, where she gave birth to a son. To appease her furious uncle, Abélard proposed a secret marriage, in order not to mar his prospects of advancement in the church; but Heloise opposed the idea. She appealed to him not to sacrifice for her the independence of his life, but reluctantly gave in to pressure. The secret of the marriage was not kept by Fulbert; and when Heloise boldly denied it, life was made so difficult for her that she sought refuge in the convent of Argenteuil at Abélard's bidding. Immediately Fulbert, believing that her husband, who had helped her run away, wanted to be rid of her, plotted revenge. He and some others broke into Abélard's chamber by night, and castrated him. The priesthood and ecclesiastical office were canonically closed to him. Heloise, not yet twenty, consummated her work of self-sacrifice at Abélard's jealous bidding that she never again share romantic love with a man, and became a nun.