Page 5 of A Duke in Autumn

“But… we really shouldn’t go off alone – what if we met someone? A gentleman, for example?”

Annet laughed, shaking her head.

“Then we would have a most interesting conversation, most likely. We would be chaperoning each other… we can always send a footman to tell our mothers that we are going for a walk – that should be enough for them not to be annoyed – they are far too distracted with organising everything to pay much attention.”

Eugenia considered. Surely Lady Annet was right. What harm could come of a quiet walk, so long as they were together? The sight of Lord Harper turning in their approximate direction decided her, and she rose to her feet.

“You have convinced me. Let us do that, rapidly, before Lord Harper sees us.”

Lady Annet waved a hand to attract a nearby footman.

When the man came to them, she instructed him quickly.

“Please inform Lady Stenholt and the Dowager Duchess of Kilmerstan that we have gone for a walk, down through the trees, so that they do not wonder where we are.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

He turned away, and they hurried into the trees, where a faint path led downhill. Quiet wrapped around them, the further they went from the picnickers, broken only by the soft sound of the stream which the path followed, and birds above them. Eugenia felt herself relax, glad to be away from the demands of polite social converse.

They walked for some minutes, until they came to a large clearing amongst the trees, where a tumble of rocks had caused the stream to form into a still pool.

“Oh! Isn’t this lovely? So pretty, with the sun on the water. I’m going to take my shoes and stockings off, and sit on those rocks, so that I can dangle my feet in the water.”

Eugenia looked at Lady Annet, feeling both horrified and tempted by her words.

“Is that wise? What if someone else comes along – they will see your feet, and more than ankles, if you lift your skirts high enough to keep them out of the water!”

“Of course it’s not entirely wise – but it will be fun, and water running over your feet feels wonderful. Come on, do try it.”

Lady Annet immediately went to the rocks, and sat, facing the trees at first, whilst she removed her shoes and stockings, then she shifted around and lowered her feet into the water, with her skirts caught up almost to her knees to keep them out of the stream.

Eugenia stood, frozen in place for a moment, arguing with herself internally. Not since she was a small child had she done such a thing – but she remembered how good it felt to do so. Slowly, she went forward, until she stood beside Lady Annet

“Is it cold?”

“A little, although not as much as one might expect in autumn. The pool is shallow, and I think that the sun has warmed it. Do join me. No one will know, and it feels wonderful.”

Around them, everything was still, and silent. Lady Annet was right – there was no one to see. A sense of quite irrational excitement filled Eugenia. She would do it! It was mad, and quite utterly improper for a well-bred young lady to do, but, just this once, she would allow herself to be naughty – how could it hurt, if no one knew?

Before sense could reassert itself, she sat on a rock, and pulled her shoes and stockings off, then turned and lowered her feet. With her skirts wrapped about her knees, and the water moving gently over her feet, she sighed in delight at the sensation.

Lady Annet laughed at her expression.

“See, it is so very good, isn’t it? Have you never done this before?”

“I have – but not since I was about seven years old. And you are right, it feels lovely. Even if this will crush my skirts horribly.”

“But your skirts would have been crushed anyway, just from sitting on the blankets for the picnic, so what does it matter? We are not here to display the height of fashion.”

“My mother would disagree with that statement. And usually, I do try to be fashionable, without being outrageous.”

Lady Annet kicked her feet in the water a little, looking off into the distance, then turned to face Eugenia again.

“But really, who deems things to be outrageous or not? It always seems to me that the older women make impossible rules for us, just because they can. I think that being what they call outrageous would be fun. I would love to wear more daring gowns – in cut, and in colour. Why they insist that unmarried women should wear nothing stronger than pastels, I do not understand.”

Eugenia swallowed. The sentiment was one that she was in complete accord with, although she had never voiced it. It was the one area where she had always been most tempted to defy propriety, to be less than perfectly behaved. She had journals and folios of paper sheets, filled with sketches of gowns – all far more daring than anything which she had ever personally worn.

Those sketches were her hidden rebellion. She imagined beautiful gowns, in strong colours, and cut to daring shapes – shapes which flattered and enhanced the appearance of the body, without being completely risqué.