Chapter 19
Nineteen
Jewel
IN HER LITTLE private bedchamber, as she folded fabric around her last gift, Jewel was still mentally debating whether she should marry Henry. Last night, she’d been doubting he really loved her. But the truth was, she wasn’t any more certain that she loved him.
And she wondered if that really mattered.
As a small girl, she’d dreamed of true, everlasting love—how could she not, having grown up with her parents, aunts, and uncles as examples?
That dream hadn’t died, but she was old enough now to have noticed such love was rare.
And she liked to think she was sensible.
Didn’t it make sense to choose a pleasant life over a lonely one, given that an exceedingly passionate life was unlikely?
She’d turned down countless suitors, waiting for the right one, until Henry walked into her life.
Surely by now she’d met every eligible young man in the kingdom—the aristocracy comprised a small social circle, after all.
At this point, anyone she hadn’t met probably lived in the north, which was entirely too far from her family.
Could she do better than Henry?
She thought not.
Although she wasn’t sure she loved Henry, she was very sure she liked him.
He was good and decent. He would make a kind husband and father.
And she wanted children. Perhaps she should say yes.
Maybe it would be best to get herself a husband and get on with her life, put the tiresome matchmaking-go-round behind her.
She envisioned herself in the big workshop Henry had said he’d build for her. In her mental picture, she was creating an exquisite stained-glass window, a dark-haired little girl and a tow-headed little boy by her side, both of them learning her craft.
Smiling, she tied the final ribbon. Then she rose and stretched and left the room. Thinking it felt good to be closer to a decision, she turned to head down the stairs.
Just then, a shriek came from the far end of the corridor. Alarmed, she turned back to investigate.
The door that led to Aunty Kendra and Uncle Trick’s chamber was open. Or at least it looked open, until she got closer and saw it was not strictly open, but rather completely disconnected and propped against the wall.
How on earth did that happen?
Something was going on, Jewel thought, remembering her aunt and uncle’s odd behavior at breakfast.
A discussion was wafting from the room, just garbled enough that she couldn’t make out the words. She frowned and moved yet closer.
“One of the pins fell out of its hinge,” a female voice said, “and—”
“How on earth did that happen?” Uncle Trick interrupted, echoing Jewel’s thoughts in a much more annoyed tone. “It should have been wedged in there so tight—”
“Apparently it was broken, your grace. They had to take the other pin to the blacksmith, so he could make a match. I’m so sorry,” the female added in a soothing manner. “Mr. Harry assured me it would be fixed by tonight.”
“Tonight? Tonight? I want to scream!” Aunty Kendra all but screamed.
Something was going on—Jewel was sure of it now. Her aunt and uncle were clearly desperate to be alone in their chamber, and she could think of just one thing married couples did alone in their chamber. Something was preventing them…
Quite definitely, something was going on.
Something devious.
And in the Chase family sphere, something devious usually meant something cooked up by Papa.
She felt close to putting the pieces together when she heard Uncle Trick say, “You may leave, and please don’t return until we call for you.”
Hearing footsteps approach the doorway, Jewel rushed to the other end of the corridor.
A young maid exited the room, looking like she was stifling a giggle.
Very curious. Or…
Perhaps not curious at all.
In fact, it made perfect sense.
Jewel approached her at a measured pace, contriving a meeting point out of hearing range from her aunt and uncle’s bedchamber.
When the girl moved aside to allow her to pass, her gaze lowered deferentially, Jewel turned and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Pardon me,” she said quietly. “Are you the duchess’s maid? “
The maid gasped and whirled, both hands to her heart, making Jewel wonder why she should be so skittish. Then she blinked a few times and relaxed, apparently finding a woman close to her age less frightening than expected. Her gaze flicked to the room she’d just left, then back to Jewel.
“Yes,” she said in a whisper. “I’m Margaret.”
Hoping to set her at ease, Jewel smiled. “May I speak with you in my chamber?”
The maid hesitantly nodded, then followed her down the corridor and into her room.
Jewel shut the door and waved her over to a chair, taking the chair across the small table for herself. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
Perched at the very edge of the chair with her hands folded in her lap, Margaret gazed at her innocently. “I don’t understand. Nothing is going on. Nothing unusual, I mean. Why do you ask, my lady?”
“Because I have eyes in my head, and a working set of ears as well. Plus a quick mind, or so I’m told. I’ve been observing you”—Jewel watched the maid’s eyes widen—“and I believe you and my father are playing a masterful prank.” She paused for a breath. “And I want in on it.”
The girl’s eyes widened further before a reluctant little laugh burst out of her. “You do?”
“Of course I do. There’s nothing quite so fun as a good prank.
” Not to mention it would be something to occupy her mind besides Henry.
She hadn’t felt like herself since he’d proposed—a piece of mischief might be just the thing to revive her old spirit.
“Are you keeping my aunt and uncle, um…apart?”
Margaret blushed. “Yes. Yes, we are. I mean, your father is keeping them apart, with my help.” She looked away. “I know it’s terrible of me to play a prank on my mistress, especially her grace, who’s so very kind, but—”
“My father bribed you, didn’t he?”
That startled another laugh out of Margaret. “How did you know?”
“I know my father,” Jewel said with a rueful shake of her head. “Of course he bribed you. He always finds a way to get what he wants.” Well, not with her mother lately, not yet, but he would, Jewel was sure of it. “How much has he promised you?”
“Twenty pounds. I’m not proud of it.” Margaret’s eyes glazed with a thin sheen of unshed tears, horrifying Jewel.
She hadn’t meant to upset Aunt Kendra’s maid—she’d just wanted to hear about the prank.
“I said no to five and no to ten,” Margaret elaborated in a tiny voice, “but then he offered twenty, and…do you think I’m an awful person? ”
“Not at all,” Jewel said gently. “Twenty pounds is nothing to my father. And I have a feeling you must want that money for a very good reason.”
“Not good enough,” the maid said with a little sniffle. “My reason is selfish. I should never have agreed.”
Margaret seemed so sweet and earnest, Jewel couldn’t help but like her. And feel for her. “Tell me.” Jewel pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve and handed it to her. “Tell me your reason. I’d wager it’s not selfish at all.”
“It is selfish.” Margaret dabbed at her eyes and nose. “I want to get married, and I don’t want to wait three years.”
“Are you in love?” Jewel asked, feeling a little stab of jealousy when Margaret nodded.
Jewel was probably a year or two older than Margaret, yet she wasn’t sure she’d ever been in love. Once she’d thought she was in love, but she’d been all of ten then, and she’d been wrong. Eleven years had allowed her to put things in perspective.
She’d known Henry but a few weeks, yet she was already certain he was the best of all the young men who had courted her. Perhaps that meant she was falling in love with him. Or maybe she was already in love. How was one supposed to know when one was in love, anyway? She didn’t know how to tell.
“Yes, I’m very much in love,” Margaret said as though the nod hadn’t been confirmation enough. Or maybe she just wanted to say it out loud.
“Then why should you have to wait three years?” Jewel asked, pushing the envy away. “Whom are you in love with? Start with that.”
Margaret tucked an errant strand of russet hair back under her cap. “His name is Richard Turner. He’s a footman at Foxbow Manor, an estate that borders Amberley.”
Amberley belonged to Uncle Trick, which meant Margaret lived there, near her beau.
“A footman sounds like a reasonable match for you,” Jewel said.
“Surely you’re not too young.” Margaret appeared to be eighteen at least. “And I assume he’s not too young to wed, either.
I’ve no doubt my uncle would be willing to employ him so the two of you can live together—my uncle is as kind as my aunt. ”
“I know,” Margaret said. “It’s thanks to your uncle that I was raised in a lovely home and fed and educated. I know his grace would employ Richard if we asked. Well, maybe he wouldn’t…”
“Why would you say that?”
“Oh, her grace seems to think I should find employment elsewhere. I think she wants to train someone new from the orphanage.” The maid sighed. “Regardless, that isn’t why Richard and I cannot marry anytime soon.”
Jewel absently shuffled her gaily wrapped packages on the table. “Then why should you have to wait?”
Hesitation narrowed Margaret’s blue eyes, and then, “We lost a silver tray,” she rushed out.
“I’ve not told anyone this, but the two of us lost a large silver tray last summer.
Lady Foxbow had ordered it specially made, and it cost thirty-four pounds, and Richard was tasked to fetch it from the village.
I had a half day off, so I went with him—we walked to the village together, so happy and carefree.
The tray was wrapped in brown paper tied with string, and we were thirsty after the long walk, so we carried it to a taproom and set it down and drank some ale.
When we got up to leave, it was gone. Just gone. ”
Jewel had never seen anyone look quite so wan. Simply gazing at Margaret made her heart hurt. “That’s very unfortunate, but why should it keep you from wedding?”
“The tray cost thirty-four pounds, my lady. Thirty-four pounds! Richard earns five pounds a year and I earn another five—in the time since we lost the tray, he’s been able to pay just four pounds towards that debt.
Even should we both save every penny, it will take him three more years to clear the debt, and Lord Foxbow won’t free him to hire on elsewhere before the debt is paid. ”
“That’s rather harsh.” Jewel shook her head. “Well, perhaps you can find employment on the Foxbow estate instead?”
“I’m loath to leave her grace, but that doesn’t signify, because Lord Foxbow does not allow his servants to wed.”
“Lord Foxbow sounds dreadful,” Jewel said darkly.
Margaret just shrugged. “Surely you know rules like these are common.”
“Yes, I know,” Jewel said with a sigh. “I do know that.”
None of the Chases forbade their servants to marry, but plenty of other families did. And it certainly wasn’t uncommon for employers to demand payment for lost or broken items, although Jewel couldn’t imagine her parents doing that, either.
She did some quick math in her head. “Twenty pounds will allow you to marry two years sooner.”
Margaret nodded soberly. “That’s why I agreed to help, even though I knew it was wrong.”
“I understand,” Jewel assured her. “And I don’t blame you for agreeing at all. A wait of one year will be much more tolerable than three.”
Needless to say, a wait of no years at all would be more tolerable still—and Jewel believed she could achieve that end. But she felt she ought not to raise her new friend’s hopes until all was in place.
And in the meantime, she and Margaret would have some fun.