Duchess Sofia

Chapter 1

On the second day of April, Sophia, a mere 4 years old, stirred from her slumber, her deep black pupils blinking open. Without assistance, she threw off her quilt, revealing her small, determined form. Hastily donning thick cashmere socks to ward off the morning chill, she slipped into a snug petticoat followed by a red flannel dress, the day's chosen attire. Not to be forgotten were her suede shoes, modest in heel yet comfortably stylish.

Approaching the mirror, Sophia, who would soon turn 5, assessed her reflection. Standing at 3 feet 5 inches tall, her cherubic countenance boasted porcelain skin akin to an angel in a painting.

With her appearance approved, Sophia signaled for assistance, and Nina, the maid, promptly entered with warm water.

"Miss Sophia, it's Nina. May I come in?"

"Please do. Good morning, Nina," Sophia greeted with a smile, ready to begin her morning routine with Nina's help.

Nina, a 20-year-old maid responsible for caring for all the girls in the household, found Sophia to be the easiest to attend to. With Mary, age 2, and Elizabeth, not yet 3 months old, demanding much of her attention, Sophia's needs were comparatively minimal. Nina's daily routine with Sophia mainly involved providing her with suitable water and assisting in combing her long, satin-like black hair, leaving her free to tend to the younger girls.

"Miss Sophia, is this to your liking?" Nina inquired as she adjusted the satin knot securing Sophia's hair.

"Please tighten it a bit more; I'll be going out later," Sophia instructed.

"Of course, Miss Sophia," Nina promptly complied, adding, "Mrs. Bond awaits you downstairs. Breakfast is served at 8 o'clock."

"Understood. I'll return punctually," Sophia acknowledged before leaving the room.

As Sophia made her way down the carpeted corridor, the soft glow of delicate silver candlesticks illuminated family portraits adorning the walls. Over the five years of residing in the house, the paintings had expanded to include additional family members, depicting Sophia's parents, older brothers George and Henry, herself, Mary, and baby Frederick. The newborn Elizabeth had yet to be included, but their mother had already been painted during her pregnancy.

Sophia admired her mother's resilience, marveling at how she resumed her acting career shortly after Elizabeth's birth at the age of 39. Conversely, her father, four years her junior, had long since taken to wearing a wig due to his receding hairline.

"Good morning, Miss Sophia," greeted the housekeeper as Sophia descended the stairs.

"Good morning, Mrs. Bond," Sophia responded with a genteel smile, her slow gait echoing her newfound maturity.

Mrs. Bond, pleased with Sophia's demeanor, checked her pocket watch before draping a prepared cloak over Sophia's shoulders, signaling it was time to depart.

Stepping outside, Sophia reveled in the crisp air of their suburban London home near Bush Park, by the Thames River, just 15 miles from the city center. The serene surroundings and abundant wildlife made it a cherished retreat, while its proximity to the city ensured convenience, with only an hour's carriage ride to the bustling heart of London.

Every morning, Sophia rose early, not for the sake of tradition, but to take solitary walks in the park. It was 1801, the dawn of the 19th century, a time when formal education for girls was a rarity. Instead, they were groomed for marriage, motherhood, and household management. But Sophia harbored ambitions beyond these conventional roles; she yearned for autonomy.

She resisted the fate of her mother, who, despite their affluent lifestyle, juggled debts accrued to sustain appearances. Even after giving birth to Elizabeth, her mother returned to the stage to ease her father's financial burdens, ultimately becoming the family's breadwinner.

Sophia couldn't recall when this cycle began, but it seemed entrenched in their family's legacy. Her father, a duke, enjoyed a substantial annual pension, yet extravagant expenditures perpetually strained their finances. Luxurious stables, incessant wardrobe updates, lavish feasts, and social obligations devoured their wealth.

Adding to the strain were Sophia's elder siblings, whose expenses her parents shouldered. Frances Daly, at 18, demanded a dowry of £5,000—an exorbitant sum. Meanwhile, Nina's annual salary of £10, considered high among maids, paled in comparison.

Sophia recognized her limited prospects. As a female, she couldn't inherit her father's estate or expect much from her mother. Hence, she prioritized her health, given the era's precarious medical conditions. A mere cold could prove fatal, urging her to build resilience for future endeavors.

Contemplating her path, Sophia pondered the market's state. Glass craftsmanship neared perfection, with little room for innovation pre-mechanization. Handmade soap, though advanced, remained costly—a box fetching £1. Perhaps she could refine production methods to make it more accessible?

Sophia's journey was one of defiance and determination—a quest for independence in an era of stifling conventions.

Sophia diligently adhered to a regimen of early rising and early bedtime, eschewing the late, extravagant habits of her parents. Unconcerned with their post-noon awakenings and late-night revelries, Sophia focused on fostering good health and habits, relishing her morning walks and the occasional sighting of wildlife.

"Miss Sophia, please stay away from there. It's too dangerous," cautioned Ms. Bond, who steadfastly held Sophia's hand throughout their outings.

Despite her tender age, Sophia exuded independence. Last year, she mastered dressing herself without assistance, and she had long outgrown the need for spoon-feeding. While her siblings enjoyed the luxury of personal attendants, Sophia seemed content in her self-sufficiency, a trait overshadowed by her parents' neglect.

The Duke of Clarence and his consort, Mrs. Jordan, favored their daughters, particularly the eldest, Frances Daly, whom the Duke affectionately called "Fanny." As Sophia matured, her standing within the family waned visibly.

Even without explicit acknowledgment, Sophia's marginalized status was evident. Her striking black hair and eyes set her apart, igniting speculation about her biological lineage. Consequently, she endured two years of relative deprivation, relegated to a modest room and inferior provisions compared to her privileged siblings.

Unaware of her mistreatment, Sophia maintained her genteel demeanor, striving to embody the refined comportment expected of a young lady.

"I spotted some large birds that can't fly over there!" Sophia exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the chicken-like creatures nearby, oblivious to Ms. Bond's thoughts.

"They're not birds, they're chickens," Ms. Bond corrected gently, cautioning Sophia against approaching them due to their combative nature.

"Aren't they for eating?" Sophia inquired, longing for the familiar taste of chicken wings and legs.

"No, they're not suitable for eating. We can have baby pigeons instead," suggested Ms. Bond.

"I don't want to eat baby pigeons," Sophia admitted, revealing her reluctance to try unfamiliar fare.

"Very well, let's head back then, Miss Sophia," said Ms. Bond, consulting her pocket watch to gauge the time.

"Well, let's head back," Sophia decided, satisfied with their half-mile stroll through the park. As they retraced their steps, Sophia couldn't resist asking, "Ms. Bond, if the park's chickens aren't for eating, can we buy ones that are?"

"Yes, we can, but they're not known for their flavor. They're quite lean and tend to be tough no matter how you cook them," Ms. Bond explained, recounting the meager meat yield of the farm-raised chickens nearby.

Undeterred, Sophia persisted, "If I want to try them, could you purchase some for me?"

"Of course, if that's what Miss Sophia desires," Ms. Bond acquiesced, sensing Sophia's curiosity.

"Then I'll trouble you, Ms. Bond. I'd like live chickens, a pair preferably. I'll raise them myself and enjoy them when they're ready," Sophia requested, envisioning a future where her own chickens would provide both eggs and meat.

"Very well, I'll procure them promptly. But where do you intend to keep them?" Ms. Bond inquired, curious about Sophia's plans.

"I'll keep them at the end of my usual walk, where they won't disturb anyone," Sophia replied confidently, knowing her father's influence as the park's ranger would ensure their acceptance.

With Ms. Bond's agreement, Sophia expressed her gratitude, and they made their way back home.

"Breakfast will be served shortly, Miss Sophia," Ms. Bond reminded her as they reached the doorstep.

"Understood. I'll wash up first," Sophia replied, feeling a sense of purpose in her decision to embark on this unconventional venture. Raising chickens might lack sophistication, but the prospect of self-sufficiency was enough to fuel her determination to excel at it.