Chapter Twenty
As Amelie walked along King’s Parade she felt contented. It was another glorious summer’s day and she was out and about in the city. The house was cleaned, everything for dinner prepared, and the only job she had left on her list of tasks for today was the shopping at the market.
A few days earlier she had travelled back to London to see her brother and sisters, delighted to find them thriving and happy with Mrs Hampton.
Amelie had stayed with the kindly woman for a couple of days, taking the children out for long walks across the fields near Tranquillity House and teaching them some of the French songs their mother used to sing.
Of an evening, once the children were in bed, Amelie found Mrs Hampton to be good company.
The older woman did not press Amelie for any details of her relationship with the Duke, instead talking to Amelie about her own life, the time she had spent in the Beescroft household and her memories of Will and Catherine as children.
Amelie had returned to Grantchester a couple of days ago, refreshed and rejuvenated by her visit to see her family and eager to fall into Will’s arms. He had missed her greatly the few days she had been away and they had fallen into bed together and not emerged for a whole day.
Now Amelie had sent Will back to work on his book and she was shopping for a few essentials.
As she wandered through the market, she stopped at a few stalls, inspecting the produce.
Her mind was elsewhere, so she only caught fragments of the conversations that were happening around her, but she stiffened when she heard her own name mentioned.
‘Apparently he is holed up somewhere in Grantchester with this entirely unsuitable woman: Amelie. I heard she was a working girl from London.’
Amelie edged closer, her cheeks burning.
‘He took her to the ball at Trinity a few days ago. I heard she was beautiful. Typical man, only thinking with his nether regions,’ the second woman said before they both let out a cackle of laughter.
‘I don’t begrudge a man his pleasure, but you would think he would be a little more discreet. Parading a woman like that around with respectable people…’
‘I wish he would parade me around. Have you seen him? I caught a glimpse of him the other day and he is a very attractive man. I don’t blame this Amelie for dropping her petticoats.’
Trying to be as invisible as she could, Amelie moved away. She had heard enough, and the last thing she needed was somehow to arouse the suspicions of these women. If they knew she was the one they gossiped about she would be hounded from the marketplace, cast out for being a woman of loose morals.
As Amelie hurried back along King’s Parade, her empty basket banging against her legs, she felt a swell of panic.
This has always been a possibility. They had both known they were taking a risk, but as the weeks had passed they had grown complacent.
It had seemed so safe and secluded in Grantchester, and most of the time they spoke to no one else.
River View Cottage had been their own little haven, but they had forgotten the world was always watching.
She could not believe the women in the marketplace knew her name. She was no one, so insignificant that it should not matter what her name was, yet the gossips had ferreted out that piece of information.
Amelie wondered how long it would be before the rumours reached London.
It would be impossible now for her to return to Ashmead House.
With a flush of shame, she wondered what Mrs Potter would think of her.
She hated the thought of leaving the older woman when her health was failing, but she would not be allowed back, however altruistic her intentions.
Amelie walked fast, her head bent so she did not have to look anyone in the eye.
It might have been her imagination, but she thought she felt people looking at her, watching her.
It was a relief to get away from the city and her pace only slowed a little when she reached the meadows that led to Grantchester.
Thankfully Will had decided not to go into the Peterhouse library today but instead work in the shade in the garden.
She hated the idea of him hearing that he was the subject of sordid gossip from judgmental strangers.
She did not relish the thought of breaking the news to him, but at least they would have some time in the privacy of the cottage to decide what was the best course of action.
As Amelie rounded the corner on the road that led to the cottage she paused for a second. Sitting outside the little gate that led to River View Cottage was a fancy carriage, painted white with a golden emblem on the side.
Amelie looked at the carriage with curiosity, but there was no clue who the owner might be.
It was the first time they had received any visitors and she felt it would be quite a surprise if their presence had nothing to do with the scandal ripping through Cambridge.
She thought about trying to slip round the back, but the cottage was so small she would be seen no matter which way she entered.
With a deep breath, she opened the front door and stepped into the cottage.
‘Amelie,’ Will called out, the strain evident in his voice. ‘Come into the parlour.’
Amelie stepped inside, surprised to see two well-dressed young women, both in brightly coloured dresses with perfectly coiffed hair.
She did not recognise either of the women, but they were clearly wealthy.
Both seemed confident and assured, but one stood out more than the other, and Amelie was unsurprised when it was this young lady who stepped forward.
‘The famous Amelie,’ the woman said, looking Amelie up and down and then turning to Will for the introduction.
‘Amelie, this is Lady Elizabeth Dreardon.’