Camy's Loft

What Was a Ladies' Retiring Room at a Regency Ball?

At a Regency ball, the ballroom might be crowded with elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen, hundreds of flickering candles, and the sounds of music and conversation.

But what happened when a lady became overheated, felt faint, or simply needed a moment away from the festivities?

She could retreat to the ladies' retiring room—a private space where women could rest, refresh themselves, and receive assistance with everything from loose curls to torn gowns.

These rooms were more than convenient places for a heroine to escape an uncomfortable conversation. They were an important part of Regency social life.

What Was a Regency Ladies' Retiring Room?

At a Regency ball, the main rooms were often packed with people, blazing with candlelight, and filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and conversation. Women in elaborate gowns, tight stays (the corsets of the day), and layers of petticoats could quickly become overheated or short of breath. The ladies’ retiring room was always available to offer a much-needed place to rest, refresh, and recover without drawing too much attention.

A retiring room is described in Domestic Duties; or, Instructions to young married ladies, on the management of their households and the regulation of their conduct in the various relations and duties of married life, by Mrs. William Parkes, published in 1825:

A retiring room should be in readiness for ladies who may wish to disburthen themselves of shawls and cloaks and here a female should be in attendance to receive them, and to perform any little office of neatness which a lady’s dress may accidentally require. Tea and coffee may also be presented in this room, if any be deemed necessary; but of late the custom of introducing these refreshments at balls has been nearly abolished.

These rooms were usually located near the ballroom and set aside specifically for female guests. They were staffed by attendants—often older women or servants trained for the role—who helped ladies with everything from re-pinning a loose curl to repairing a torn hem or flounce. Some rooms even had sofas or chaise longues where a woman could lie down for a few minutes. There were also chamber pots that were cleaned after each guest used them.

The attendants kept the room stocked with practical items like pins, needles, thread, spare gloves, and combs. More importantly, they were ready with remedies when a lady felt faint or distressed. They helped many a young woman compose herself and return to the dancing looking as fresh as when she arrived.

In Lady Palmerston and Her Times, a collection of letters by Lady Cowper who would later become Lady Palmerston, in 1820, the Countess Cowper wrote in a letter some gossip about the Queen:

Did I tell you that when she went to the House she staid the greater part of the time in her retiring room, laughing with Gell & others or playing at Backgammon & Chess? About the latter here is her bon mot. She said to somebody who came in, “I am...

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The Secret He Brought Home

A weary young Regency gentleman in dark traveling clothes stands in the doorway of an elegant candlelit drawing room while two women in pale blue and green gowns turn toward him with concern. The scene depicts Barron Vipond returning home with troubling news in Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 10: Heir, a Regency romantic suspense story.

“Is that you, Barron? I feared you would not return in time for our dinner party tomorrow night.” Tabitha turned toward the drawing room door as he entered, but she gasped at the sight of him.

Lena was also shocked at the haggard look upon his face. He walked gingerly, as if his bones would shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Barron!” Tabitha rose and went to him. “What has happened? Are you well?”

He looked up at his sister, but it was as if he could not quite see her. He patted her hand, and although he did not smile, his gaze upon her was gentle and kind. “I am well, Tab. You mustn’t worry about me.”

“Something has happened to upset you,” Tabitha insisted.

“While in town, I received some bad news, but nothing that need concern you.”

Tabitha pressed her lips together and gave him the look that said that it was up to her to determine what should concern her and what should not, but Mr. Vipond patted her hand once more and then leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’m off to bed, Tab. I have been working without rest and I find myself to be quite exhausted.”

And then he left, shutting the drawing room door behind him.

Tabitha stared at the closed door for a moment, then returned to the sofa next to Lena. Her eyes had darkened with worry, but after a moment, she rubbed her finger at her forehead as if to erase the wrinkles there and smiled at Lena. “Come, Lena, split the last jam tart with me.”

And Lena obediently split the jam tart, took one bite of her half, and gave the rest to Tabitha, who seemed to eat it without noticing.

Lena’s eyes also wandered toward the closed door, remembering Mr. Vipond’s expression. What in the world had happened?

And why could he not tell his sister?

—From Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 10: Heir

Curious how it all begins?

Click below to read the beginning of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer for free and step into a world of Regency intrigue, danger, and slow-burn romance.

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This post relates to Camille Elliot’s Lady Wynwood’s Spies, a Christian Regency romantic suspense series set in 1811 London and featuring intrigue, espionage, botanical alchemy, slow-burn romance, and themes of faith and redemption.

• Lady Wynwood’s Spies Series Reference Page

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The Warning Behind the Smile

Two women in blue and cream Regency gowns sit together in an elegant English drawing room, exchanging a knowing smile and suspicious glance, illustrating a female spy secretly warning her companion of danger in a Regency historical suspense story.

Lena had never met a Mr. Thornwell. And none of their acquaintance should know the Neybridges were in Wittenden.

Perhaps this was an agent going by another name, sent with a message for Mr. Neybridge. But if so, why hadn’t he gone by one of a dozen secret keywords given to Lena and Mr. Neybridge so that they would recognize any Ramparts agents sent with messages for them?

Melinda looked confused and glanced at Lena with raised eyebrows. To Lady Faine, she said, “I am afraid I am not acquainted with him.”

“Perhaps he is known to Mr. Neybridge,” Lena said. “We should greet him, if you would not mind, my lady.”

Melinda turned to Lena with eyebrows raised. “Oh yes,” she said in a flat voice, “I so enjoy meeting complete strangers in the absence of my father.”

Lena turned to her with a too-wide smile and an aggressive twitch of her eyebrow. “If he is indeed an acquaintance of Mr. Neybridge, would it not be better to see his face so that we may tell your father all about him later?”

“You mustn’t be so distrusting, my dear Melinda. I’m certain he is a perfectly nice man.” Lady Faine nodded to the butler, who withdrew.

“And you have your companion to protect you with her life,” Lena added. Her smile was sweet, but she gave Melinda a sharp look.

The young woman’s smile faltered, but she heard the unspoken command. In the face of any danger, she was to heed Lena’s instructions and escape. Hopefully, it would not come to that.

Soon, they heard the heavy footsteps as the man followed the servant to the first floor drawing room.

—From Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 7: Spinster

Continue reading chapters 1-5 here.

Curious how it all begins?

Click below to read the beginning of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer for free and step into a world of Regency intrigue, danger, and slow-burn romance.

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• Lady Wynwood’s Spies Series Reference Page

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This Was Not How Michael Expected the Evening to Go

Regency-era gentleman in formal black coat, brown waistcoat, white cravat, and buff trousers raises his hands as a flintlock pistol is held to his head in a dark, candlelit London room, illustrating a tense scene from a Regency spy and historical romantic suspense story.

Michael slipped unnoticed into the antechamber and retrieved his own cloak, hat, and gloves. He had ridden in a hackney to the party, and so he walked to the corner and hailed another one, giving the name of a street a few minutes away, but on the edge of a less affluent part of town.

The brothel was discreet, without a sign. Once inside the unmarked door, the entry hall had a closed set of double doors to the right, guarded by two very tall and broad men in livery, and a servant’s door directly ahead in the shadow of a set of stairs leading to the next floor. Michael didn’t acknowledge the two door guardians and instead headed up the stairs.

The narrow hallway was dimly but elegantly lit by brass wall sconces, set into the striped wallpaper. Each door had a numbered brass plate, and Michael entered number six.

He thought at first that the room was empty, but then he felt the hard, cold barrel of a pistol against the back of his head, and he froze. He raised his empty hands and asked, “Ought I to have knocked?”

—from Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer

Curious how it all begins?

Click below to read the beginning of Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 1: Archer for free and step into a world of Regency intrigue, danger, and slow-burn romance.

👉 Read the excerpt now

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• Lady Wynwood’s Spies Series Reference Page

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Regency Hare Soup: An 1808 Recipe with a Red Herring

I was writing the below dinner scene in Lady Wynwood’s Spies, Volume 4: Betrayer, and since I wanted to be authentic, I went looking in some antique cookbooks that had been published around that time period.

In the cookbook, The Experienced English Housekeeper by Elizabeth Raffald, I found an interesting recipe, Hare Soup. (If you click the link, you can download a pdf copy of the scanned antique book.)

The book was reprinted many times over the Georgian and Regency eras (the edition I was looking at was published in 1808, which is 3 years before the events in Lady Wynwood’s Spies), so this soup would have been served at Laura’s dining table.

Laura’s heart ached for Phoebe, and she had prayed over her niece. But Phoebe hadn’t appeared calmed by the prayer. She declined dinner and retreated to her room down the hallway, and so now Laura was sitting to a solitary meal.

After Aya had set a bowl of hare soup in front of her, she asked the question Laura had been expecting. “What will you speak with Mr. Drydale about?”

I was really excited to try this soup since I had enjoyed authentic Regency White Soup quite a bit.

Here is the original recipe:

Cut a large old hare in small pieces, and put it in a mug, with three blades of mace, a little salt, two large onions, one red herring, six morels, half a pint of red wine, and three quarts of water; bake it in a quick oven three hours; then strain it into a toffing-pan; have ready boiled three ounces of French barley, or fago, in water; scald the liver of the hare in boiling water two minutes; rub it through a hair-sieve, with the back of a wooden spoon; put it into the soup with the barley or fago, and a quarter of a pound of butter; set it over the fire; keep stirring it, but do not let it boil: if you do not like liver, put in crisped bread steeped in red wine. This is a rich soup, and proper for a large entertainment; and where two soups are required, almond and onion soup for the top, and hare soup for the bottom.

My changes

I did not have access to hare or rabbit, so I substituted chicken thighs, which (according to the internet) is about the same texture as rabbit.

The soup seems to have quite strong flavors, which I am guessing is to mask the gaminess of hare. The meat is strained out of the soup, and it was probably repurposed for a stew or pie for the servants.

I thought removing the meat was a waste, so after making the soup (and taking pictures), I added the solids (minus the bonito flakes) back into the soup.

Since I have IBS, I had to make several substitutes. I can’t eat most dried mushrooms so I didn’t add the morels, but I included it below since that’s what was in the original recipe. I also substituted 1 cup of chopped leek tops instead of the onions. For the bread, I used homemade sourdough.

The red herring threw me a little (haha), but I realized that the term “red herring” had to have come from somewhere, so it was likely an actual fish. When I looked it up, red...

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