Chapter Thirty-One
The Pink Room
Eleanor followed a servant from the lakeside, leaving the marquis to sip his coffee while Sebastius, the marquis’s burly personal guard, continued to loom in the bushes.
The servant was attired in what looked to be the distinctive uniform of the marquis’s servants.
She wore a cornflower blue dress, with sleeves that stopped below her elbows, and a white apron neatly tied around her trim waist. She led Eleanor along hallways, through several doors, and up a twisting quiet staircase.
After a few hallways too many, it confirmed Eleanor’s suspicions that the young woman was purposefully trying to confuse her.
However, Eleanor had been in grand buildings before, so it was almost second nature to commit the route through the expansive residence to memory.
She had feigned interest in the lavish decor to spot additional points of entry, cleverly concealed serving accesses, and windows that opened above thick bushes.
“Your room, my lady,” the young woman said as she pushed open the door for Eleanor.
The room was in keeping with others that Eleanor had seen so far in the residence, with high ceilings and wide paned windows, decorated in rich light-coloured fabrics.
It was a pretty pink and white bedroom. Eleanor would have thought she’d been disgusted by so much pink, but surprisingly, she liked it.
The shades varied throughout the room, so the pieces of furniture subtly matched.
Although anything surpassed the peeling grey plaster that was her last room.
This room’s whole effect calmed her. There were no sharp or rough edges, only softness and the fragrance of earthy blossoms. The space was warm despite the granite fireplace being cold.
White wooden trim framed light-pink and white floral wallpaper on the walls, and a plush rug covered the wooden floor.
White doors on each side of the large bed would lead to her suite of rooms.
Eleanor felt the servant’s scrutiny, and she knew all too well how much servants talked. Whatever she did and said would reach the marquis’s ears in no time.
“Wow,” Eleanor said in awe, and made her eyes widen.
Her reaction to the lavish room was convincing enough to satisfy the servant’s keen eyes, as the woman briefly nodded, then went through the white door on the far side.
Eleanor started to follow her but stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.
She ignored the wonderfully inviting bed with its pink and white floral bed set and its many pillows.
Sinking into its softness would have to wait.
Eleanor pulled at the edge of the matching pink and white drapes to see the window paned doors opened onto a small balcony, much too small for table and chairs, just for letting air in and exterior decoration.
She craned her neck to peer over the balustrade.
It wasn’t a long drop to the ground, and the room overlooked a grassy section of the garden.
A smile tugged at her lips as she caught the glint of still water through the trees.
Rushing water echoed from the room the servant had disappeared into. Assuming the other door would lead to a series of rooms, Eleanor strode to the other side of the big bed and opened the matching white door, then halted.
A small, simple room lay beyond the door. It was big enough to step in and turn around, but nothing more. Empty wooden rails and shelves lined the three white walls. It was a wardrobe, a tiny one.
Eleanor stepped back into the floral bedroom, and that was when she fully looked at the room.
The furniture was functional, but basic for a noble household.
There wasn’t even a bookcase. The cold stone fireplace faced the two pink armchairs at the foot of the bed, with a table placed between them, currently holding a large tray.
Curling steam poured from the teapot, and a matching pink tea set held a selection of pastries and dainty sandwiches.
A white dressing table, accompanied by a pink and white stool, and a white cabinet holding two glasses and a crystal decanter of red wine, occupied the corner.
The marquis had assigned her to a small, unimportant guest bedroom, a room that was usually designated for minor guests, or a member of a guest’s household.
This room wasn’t meant for a Favour. A Favour had some standing in a lord’s household, she would have been at least near the lord’s room, but she likely wasn’t even on the same floor as the marquis.
Even though this room surpassed her previous room at The Ladies Grace, perhaps he was relying on her ignorance of the room’s significance.
But to her the message was clear, she was in this small, albeit pretty, room to be out of sight, out of mind.
It was somewhere to put her to one side, to forget her. Alone.
Eleanor swallowed uncomfortably at the thought.
The running water stopped, and the servant reappeared in the bedroom. She ducked into a quick curtsey. “Is everything satisfactory, my lady?”
If this room was significant, then…Eleanor looked, truly looked, at the young woman this time.
She was young, but her eyes gave her away.
Eleanor remembered her then, she was the servant with the firm brown eyes, who’d led her through the residence from the marquis’s party and who the other younger servant had deferred to.
This woman was highly ranked in the marquis’s household.
“For now,” Eleanor replied.
“Would you like me to undress and wash you, my lady?”
“No, thank you.”
Eleanor felt a chill in the air as the realisation sunk in of what it meant for her.
“I can light the fires if you’d prefer, my lady?” the servant asked.
“Not right now, thank you.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
The woman’s eyes flickered briefly to the bag in Eleanor’s grip. “Can I take your bag now, my lady?”
Eleanor gave her a small smile, she hadn’t allowed the woman to take it from her at the lakeside, and she still hadn’t relinquished its grip.
The bag’s contents hinted at significance, yet her response wasn’t extraordinary.
After all, she was a prostitute who had been bought and uprooted, leaving her with few possessions.
“I’ll manage, thank you.” Eleanor was tiring of this farce, and before the woman could offer anything further, she said in a clipped tone, “That’ll be all.”
The woman blinked at her, a single, sharp blink that spoke volumes.
Fuck.
Eleanor coughed. That had sounded more authoritative than it should have. “I mean, I’d like to be alone for a bit. It’s been a trying day, and it’s not even midday.” She hoped that garnered some sympathy from the woman.
The woman gave her a polite smile and curtseyed. “Of course, my lady. If you need anything, pull this and it’ll call me to attend to you,” she explained, pointing to the pink velvet rope by the bed.
“Thank you.”
The woman curtsied again and left the room.
Eleanor waited and listening for the woman’s slow retreating footsteps over the plush rugs in the hallway, a clear sign the woman’s earlier helpfulness by offering assistance was a pretence.
Eleanor knew the servant would linger outside, likely wanted to uncover some juicy tidbit to report to the marquis.
She looked longingly at the thick bed, but she couldn’t, not before she’d properly checked the room.
Eleanor waited until she was satisfied the servant had left, after hearing nothing interesting.
Then she dumped her bag on the dressing stool and walked the perimeter of the room, counting her paces.
She made sure to slowly tread over each of the dark wooden floorboards, waiting to hear if they gave the telltale squeak of a loose board, but she heard nothing.
As she moved through the room, Eleanor kept a close eye on the floral wallpaper for any cleverly hidden doors.
Running her fingers over the wallpaper, she felt only the bumpy texture of delicately inked paper.
She pressed an ear to the wall and knocked at random intervals to hear for the sound of a hollow wall.
Testing each sconce, she ensured it was properly affixed to the walls.
She checked the latches on the paned windows, locking them from the inside.
She even rolled up sections of the heavy rug, replacing it in the exact position, and inspected the wall by the door.
Even though the tiny wardrobe was bare, Eleanor inspected it with painstaking care.
Then she turned her attention to the bathing chamber.
There was a tall paned window with dusty pink drapes tied back with matching tassels, which led onto its own little balcony.
Eleanor turned the latch, also locking this window from the inside.
The room’s centre held a partially sunken stone tub matching the floor. She hoped the bath would retain some of its warmth by the time she was done, already relishing a good soak. It was a stark difference from the shared metal tub and rag washes in the sink at The Ladies Grace.
The lavatory was situated around a small corner.
This room’s fireplace was similar to the bedroom’s fireplace as it lacked heat, but both of them had been lit and left to extinguish at some point before her arrival.
Despite the bathing chamber being made from stone, it felt warm.
Colourful bottles, pots, and boxes of different shapes and sizes filled a white vanity table that held the sink.
She sniffed each one, sensing delicate floral bathing fragrances, perfumed hair and skin oils, and lotions.
Eleanor returned to the bedroom and realised there was nothing in these rooms that seemed suspicious. No spy holes, hidden doorways in the walls or floors, or even a wonky sconce. Nothing.