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My breath tumbles out of me in a shaky rasp, and I curl my arms around myself. Thoughts swirl in my mind, and I try not to think about the marquis and his flirtatious behavior. He was just playing with me. Like a cat plays with its dinner. I'm nothing to him. He'll forget he ever met me, that he'd ever touched his lips to my hand like I was someone of note, a lady worthy of his attention.
The domestic help in these big houses always fade into the background. I saw it in Paris, and I am counting on it now.
A knock at the door has me jumping, and as I turn, a man with sandy-blond hair and dark skin in his early thirties pokes his head through the doorway. He smiles when he sees me.
"Miss Bell?" He asks. "I brought your things in." I swallow and nod, answering him with a smile. This is going so fast, but it's not like I have anywhere else to be. And nobody else to turn to.
He rolls my suitcases in, the three of them lined up with my life's possessions inside of them. He crosses the room, extending his hand out.
"I'm Clark, Clark Sheffield," he says, "although one day I know I'll be butler to Lady Madeline." His eyes twinkle, sweet brown, and it sets me at ease. "First time in a big house?" He asks as my shoulders come down from around my ears, or so it feels like anyway.
"I've worked for families before, but nothing like this," I say, gesturing to the room and out the window. He laughs, gaze following the sweep of my hand.
"I grew up in it. My grandmother was housekeeper to the previous duke, and my mother is a lady's maid," he says with a shrug, his words precise and proper. "I suppose I could have gone into the army if I'd wanted, the last duke would have written me a commission, but I prefer this work." His eyes are focused on the outside land before switching back to me with a smile on his face. "Well, if you need anything, just holler."
"I doubt I'll be doing much of that," I say, trying to mirror his warm, but less-casual speech. Being here is definitely a step up in the world for me, and I'm going to have to work hard at notbringing my old life with me as I go.
I don't want them to think less of me, and I don't want them to find reason to get rid of me. Life-lines don't come around often enough, especially not ones that arrive with a roof, bed, and three square meals a day.
He sees himself out and I'm alone again, walking to the windows and staring out of them. Work starts in a few hours, with the evening meal. I need to get unpacked and ready into my uniform. It'll be my first time with Lady Madeline, and I want to make a good impression.
And cross my fingers the whole time, hoping this situation works out for the better for me. I can't afford it not to.
8
Eva
“Dinner is at eight; the duke and his household dine late, so we take our final meal now,” Mrs. Harris says, sweeping by me into the room. “Lady Madeline, you look like you’re having a delightful time.” I step into my little charge’s rooms for the second time that day and see the lady in question, or girl, as she sits in front of a dollhouse, toys scattered around her in all directions. She’s wearing a pink and white dress, looking more like a cupcake than a little girl. When she turns to the Housekeeper and me, she’s smiling, eyes lighting up when she sees me.
She squeaks and gets to her feet, buzzing across the floor to wrap her arms around my legs. I nearly topple in surprise, but don’t, not quite anyway. I steady my hands on her shoulders.
“My lady, that is not how we greet anyone, let alone our nanny,” Mrs. Harris scolds, but her tone is warm enough.
Madeline detaches herself from me and gives me an appraising look, top to bottom, taking me all in.
“She looks just like my last nanny, but her hair is different,” Madeline says with that detached bluntness kids always seem to have. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope you’ll be my friend.” Her eyes are deep blue, when she tilts her head up to look me in the eye as much as possible with her short height.
I bend down instead of staying standing, so we’re on the same level. I see a flicker on the Housekeeper’s face, but she says nothing about my casual demeanor.
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” I say to Madeline, because what else do I say to a young lady? She is different from my other charges and at the same time, isn’t.
Madeline makes a face.
“Do you like to read stories?” She asks, “Because my last nanny—”
“That’s enough about the last one,” Mrs. Harris says, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her dress, an unconscious habit I don’t think she realizes she has since it’s the third time I’ve seen her do it today.
Madeline’s face falls, and there’s something inside of me that twists. It’s almost unfair that this kid, this child, has to grow up in such a strict, structured environment. I can’t imagine what she’s had to experience already in her life. Something under my breastbone warms, a blossom of protectiveness that grips me tight, unspeakably confusing and strange. I’ve always felt over-protective of kids, maybe my upbringing has something to do with that.
When you are born into a world, into family, that sees you as lacking any value at all, when you’ve never had people to love you just as you are, you want to wrap up every single child yousee in love and flowers.
Or at least I do.
“I love to read stories, Lady Madeline,” I say gently, and Mrs. Harris’s skirts twitch, but there’s a look of approval on her face.
I’ll do, I think, for now. At least in her mind. Hopefully I can prove myself worth it.
A maid comesto Madeline’s rooms and tells me that she’ll watch over the young girl while I go down to meet the duke.
