Chapter 6 #2
“Yes! Yes, please. Let me talk to her.” Whoever this duchess was, Emmeline could handle it; Mother had taught her that much. The servant nodded, indicating for Emmeline to follow her. As she exited the room, the carriage driver tugged her sleeve.
“Excuse me, Miss,” he said. “If you’re about to speak to the duchess, would you mind giving her a message? I’ve several other errands to run.”
“Of course.”
“Excellent. Please, tell her Miss Grey has fallen ill and won’t be able to visit for several days. That’s all.”
Emmeline repeated the message to herself, making sure she memorized the name. The driver bowed, and they left in opposite directions—he toward the exit and Emmeline down the hallway, following the servant deeper into the house.
A small door at the end of the hallway opened into a two-story spanning foyer with white marble floors, lit up by a giant chandelier.
Emerging from the hole that was the servants’ entrance, Emmeline gawked at the vaulted ceiling and dark wood-paneled walls, covered from top to bottom in paintings: serene landscapes, hunting scenes, and portraits of men sporting powdered wigs and embroidered coats, and women in corseted dresses bordered with delicate lace.
How was this house—this family—so close to Cousin Reggie all this time, and she’d never met them?
The servant gestured to a door across the foyer. “Wait in there, Miss. Her Grace will meet you shortly.”
The room beyond was a classic sitting room, as opulent as Emmeline had expected.
Upholstered settees and armchairs in a pink fleur-de-lys pattern.
A fireplace with another painting above it, this one depicting a family posing in front of this very house—a gentleman and a lady, and three young children, all dressed in a manner similar to the other portraits.
Heavy velvet curtains were pulled aside so the tall, sash windows offered a view of the immaculate lawn outside.
Emmeline’s feet led her to the nearest settee, and she collapsed onto it, her legs shaking from shock, exhaustion, and confusion.
She’d never had a dream like this before. So intense, and feeling so real. And yet, it had to be a dream. Nothing else could explain why she was back in noticeably altered Dorset, and Leon was here and wounded. Her sleeping brain had mingled the events of the past week into an insane story.
“Yes, I’ve seen the carriage arrive,” a raspy woman’s voice came from the foyer.
“Tea will be fine, Mrs. Herwick.” The door opened, revealing a woman of about fifty.
Her dress, while in the same high-waisted fashion as the others, immediately set her aside from the servants; it was a pristine, cream muslin, accompanied by an extravagant embroidered silk shawl, large enough the woman could wrap herself in it.
She wore a ruffled white cap, screw-like golden curls framing her pointy face.
Emmeline rose to her feet, but before she could say anything, the woman strode toward her and spread her arms in greeting. “My dear Miss Grey. What a pleasure to meet you at last.”
Emmeline froze.
“You must be exhausted after that journey. I’ve sent for tea. Do sit down.”
Emmeline sat, still speechless.
“You can tell me all about it later.” The duchess sat and spread out a fan. “My dear, if you don’t mind me saying so, you look quite frightful. I hope all is well?”
Emmeline’s brain finally caught up and unleashed the realizations all at once.
The driver told her that a Miss Grey couldn’t make it here.
The duchess thought she was Miss Grey.
Leon needed help—badly—but the duchess was unlikely to provide one for a stranger.
“Yes!” She jumped to her feet. “I mean, uh—no! All is not well at all!”
“Then what is the matter?”
“My friend needs help. He’s severely injured.”
“Your friend? Of the male persuasion?”
Dream or not, that was apparently always going to be a problem.
“I mean, my servant. Forgive me, Your Grace. He’s—uh—he’s been with our family for so long, you see. His mother was our housekeeper for many years until she passed away, God bless her soul, and his father died when he was young—”
Wait, wasn’t she reciting the plot of The Lady of Craighugh Castle? Nevermind—
“So he feels practically like family.” She clutched her hands in front of her.
“I see.” The duchess continued to fan herself lazily. “And what has happened to this man?”
“We were attacked on the road. By bandits! Horrible, terrifying bandits. He valiantly tried to protect me, and he drove the criminals off, but they wounded him. He’s in the servants’ quarters now, being taken care of, but he requires a surgeon.”
“Goodness.” The duchess put her free hand to her chest. “My apologies, Miss Grey. I thought the roads here were safe, especially during the day.”
“Oh, it’s not your fault. But could you—”
“Certainly. We’ll get a surgeon to him immediately. Are the rest of your servants all right?”
“Huh?”
“Surely, you’d brought at least a lady’s maid with you.”
Oh, no. “Actually, she fell ill before the journey. It’s just me.”
“And your servant.”
“And him. Yes.” God, she was digging herself deep with this one. The driver hadn’t told her how indisposed the real Miss Grey was; how much was “a few days”? How long would her cover last?
Until Leon got better. That was all she needed. A surgeon could surely fix him up in a few days, and once he was well, it didn’t matter if Emmeline’s cover was blown because they could both leave.
She knitted her eyebrows. She couldn’t shake off the feeling this wasn’t a dream. All the strangeness aside, her reactions, her feelings—the elevated heartbeat, the rapid breathing, the absolute, dreadful worry about Leon—they were too intense even for the worst nightmare.
“We’ve prepared a room for you,” the duchess said. “Your luggage should’ve been taken upstairs already, so if you wish to go and refresh yourself before dinner …”
“Uh …” Emmeline opened her mouth.
“Yes, Miss Grey?” There was only the slightest sharpness to the duchess’s tone.
“The bandits absconded with my luggage.” Emmeline tried hard to not make it sound like a question.
“Of course.” The duchess snapped the fan shut. “Louisa can lend you a gown. Once you’re feeling better, the two of you can go to the town to purchase more. Take it as a wedding present.”
A what now?
A high-pitched scream of excitement cut through Emmeline’s confusion.
Steps pounded down the staircase, and the door flew open as a young woman burst into the room, her blonde curls flying around her face.
“You’re here!” Without hesitation, she ran to Emmeline and locked her into a rib-crushing hug.
“We’ll be the best of friends, you’ll see! ”
“Louisa,” the duchess chided.
Louisa released the hug, although she still held Emmeline by the shoulders as she took a step back and grinned at her. She was close to her age and had a friendly, round face, with caramel-brown eyes, made larger by thick, rounded spectacles.
“Oh, you’re so pretty. My brother is going to love you.” Louisa giggled. “I can’t believe we’re going to be sisters!”