CHAPTER THREE
During her first week at her uncle’s house, Phoebe ate her three meals alone each day.
Afternoon tea with her mother was a time she cherished, and she missed it.
No tea tray ever arrived at four. Even with Emma visiting most days, she was bored, sad, and listless.
A small, friendly, puffy white dog often visited her and became her friend.
According to Emma, the dog belonged to her mother, which didn’t sit well with Phoebe.
After a week, she still hadn’t met the lady of the house.
Phoebe didn’t think her aunt would accept Fluffy, her dog, visiting.
Today her stomach felt unsettled, and she’d stayed in bed most of the day, chilled to the bone. With no heat source, the attic room was colder than cold on this rainy, dreary day. She was dozing when she heard Emma’s voice. “Phoebe, may I come in?”
“Yes.” She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and patted her messy hair. What she wouldn’t do for a bath.
Emma danced in, all excited, followed by her maid. “Maggie will pack your things. Mother said you can move into the bedroom next to mine.”
Phoebe couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But why?”
Emma’s maid began packing her two bags. “Apparently, my begging her was giving her a migraine, so she relented. Aren’t you excited? No more living in this cold room fit for no one. I can’t imagine why you were given this room to begin with. It’s no way to welcome family.”
No, it wasn’t. “Yes, I’m excited.” She pulled the covers off, got out of bed, and gathered her treasured books, putting them in one of her bags herself.
“Mother also said I could share some of my dresses with you because we are close in size. They may be a little loose, but Maggie can take them in.”
She paused in packing her books. No wonder she had been banished to the attic.
Her uncle and aunt were embarrassed by her and her tattered, outdated clothes.
But she also believed there was more to it than that.
She owed her cousin, Emma, for this. “Thank you. I can hardly live downstairs with the clothes I have.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you.”
“No. No. You didn’t. It’s the truth. We didn’t have much money, so we made do. I am very appreciative of your kindness and generosity.”
“Besides, when gentlemen call, you must look your best to attract a suitable husband. My sister and I can’t wait for gentlemen callers. We are all of age.”
It hadn’t crossed her mind that her uncle would find her a husband, but it made sense. Then she would no longer be his burden. He would be free of her and the stigma of her father’s downfall from Society. No doubt an earl wouldn’t want to be reminded of his younger brother’s disreputable behavior.
“According to my father, the Duke of Barrington is coming to afternoon tea. I’m still trying to convince Mother to let you attend.
I don’t know why Father invited the duke.
Mother will not allow my sisters or me to marry him.
According to Society, he is cursed. He buried three young wives.
They call him the Duke of Doom. My mind envisions an old, hunchbacked figure with gnarly, crooked fingers and ashen skin.
And his eyes,” she shivered, “as terrifying as a wolf’s in a feeding frenzy. ”
“I think I would like a husband, but not this duke. What about you?” Phoebe said.
Emma smiled wistfully. “I do want to marry. There is one gentleman in particular I’ve had my eye on since I came out.”
“Who is he?” Phoebe asked, even though she wouldn’t know him from Adam.
“Colin Fitzhugh, the Marquess of Norton, although I don’t believe he knows I’m alive.
He’s never shown any interest in me. It’s just wistful thinking on my part.
Even though I have no prospective suitors, I will not allow my father to pawn me off on a cursed man.
If one of my sisters or I marry the duke, we will die a tragic death. ”
With all her belongings packed, Emma led the way to her room, the maid following. “Did all his wives die horrible deaths?” Phoebe asked, her heart pounding with sadness.
“Oh yes. From what the gossips say, his first wife died in childbirth, along with her baby. They say the baby had a horse’s head.”
Phoebe gasped. “Surely you don’t believe such nonsense?”
“Not really. But the fact remains that she and the infant died. His second wife ran off with her lover, and they perished when heavy rains swept their carriage off a bridge into a raging river.”
“Oh, how shocking and sad,” Phoebe said, wondering how one man could have such terrible misfortunes.
“Exactly. And the third wife died of a fever from an illness of mysterious origin.”
“You are not suggesting it was poison?”
“Not until I meet this duke and decide for myself.”
“Perhaps these unfortunate deaths and events have nothing to do with him, and he is a most kind and gentlemanly man.” For the sake of everyone, she hoped so.
Emma snorted, most unladylike. “I highly doubt it, but we will see this afternoon.”
They stood at the door to her new room. Phoebe stepped inside the pink-and-cream room, and tears welled in her eyes. It was the most beautiful room she’d ever seen.
“Are you not happy with your room?” Emma asked, concerned.
She swiped away her tears and smiled. “It is perfect. These are happy tears.”
“Thank goodness. I thought Mother had insulted you again.” Her maid hung several dresses and gowns in the wardrobe and filled the chest of drawers with undergarments and nightclothes. “When you’re ready, send for Maggie, and she can fit the clothes to you.”
Without thinking, Phoebe hugged Emma tightly. “Thank you. You are most kind.”
Emma hugged her back just as tightly. “Nonsense. We are cousins, and I’m so happy you are here and that we can become the very best of friends.”
Emma left, taking her maid with her, and Phoebe wiped more emotional tears from her eyes. After the week she’d had in the attic, freezing, hungry, and unwanted, she finally felt as though she belonged.
Even if it was short-lived.
A short, rotund woman swept into her room without so much as a knock, and Phoebe knew by the chills running up and down her spine that this was her aunt.
“Well,” she clucked, “I see my eldest daughter has gone against my wishes and moved you beside her.” She walked around the room, her head held high, inspecting the surroundings.
When her eyes fell on her old, worn portmanteaus, she sniffed and wrinkled her nose.
“Empty these bags at once and put them out in the hall to be burned. They stink of the slums.”
Shocked by her behavior and words, Phoebe could do nothing but nod. No words could form through her tears.
“Nothing has changed. You will remain in your room and take your meals here until I decide whether and when you will interact with the family. Just because my dear Emma has taken a liking to you doesn’t mean anything.
She has been known to befriend bees in the garden, despite their reputation for stinging.
And try not to contaminate this room with your sullied presence. ”
With that, she swept out of the room. Phoebe could swear she’d floated across the room like the devil.
How could such a vile creature produce such a lovely person as Emma?
Her stomach dropped. Did Sarah and Catherine resemble Emma or their mother?
Please let it be Emma. But if they were like their sister, wouldn’t they have come to see her in the attic, as Emma had?
Wouldn’t they have been curious about her?
Well, there was nothing she could do about it until she met them.
She busied herself unpacking her few possessions and, with great regret, put her bags out in the hall to be burned.
Really, to be burned? How dramatic and insulting.
Finally, she was able to look around, explore the room, and admire it.
The large bed looked inviting, and she fell back onto the coverlet, sighing at how soft it felt.
It was quite a change from the little bed in the attic.
The fireplace was opposite the foot of the bed, where a bench rested against the footboard.
Besides the bed, she had a table on each side and a small dressing table with a mirror on the same wall.
On the dressing table sat a new hairbrush, lotions, perfume, and soaps, making Phoebe’s eyes water again at Emma’s thoughtfulness.
Because she knew, without a doubt, this was all her doing.
There was a chest of drawers with a basin and pitcher on top, and fresh white linens.
Not the brown, aged ones like the attic.
She’d already put her things inside the drawers and couldn’t help but notice several soft night rails, a robe, stockings, and ribbons inside, along with a pair of white lace gloves.
A wardrobe was tucked diagonally against the far corner, and in the opposite corner a screen, which no doubt hid the chamber pot.
She didn’t know how to thank Emma for her kindness, but she would find a way.
With nothing else to do, she pulled the tassel for a servant, something she never thought she’d do again.
How she missed the happy years before her father gambled away his fortune, and the earl cut him off from his yearly income.
If only the earl had seen fit to give her mother the funds, they could’ve remained in their nice townhome with proper clothing and food.
She’d been eight years old when the world as she’d known it was torn out from under her.
Too young to appreciate what was soon to be gone.
Moments later, there was a knock, and the door opened. “Yes, miss? How may I help you?” A maid about her age stood waiting for an answer.
“Could you please send for Maggie?”
“Right away, miss.”
Maggie entered a few minutes later, a sewing box in her hands, having anticipated what this was about. They stood just inside the door, facing each other, with Phoebe unsure how to proceed. “What shall I do?”
“Undress. If you are shy, you may go behind the screen,” Maggie said.