HER
I'm singing airily as I float up the stairs to my room. It's a hot summer day, and the heat is making me drowsy. Lady Eliza is out currently, at a friend's tea, and I look forward to her coming back and giving me a thorough recount of the afternoon.
My joy stutters when I get to the top of the stairs, though. A crowd of maids is formed around my doorway; they all chatter and giggle amongst themselves. Confused, I push my way through as they bombard me with questions.
"Who are they from?"
"Do you have a fancy man?"
"Open the letter, Laura!"
When I finally break through the crowd, I find a large vase of flowers dominating the space. The arrangement is comically large for the space, but there's nothing funny about how it looms in the doorway, blocking my path. The sickly-sweet perfume clogs my throat, turning my stomach as I edge around it to the crisp white card. My name is on it with precise letters.
I open it gently, afraid to rip something so clearly valuable.
Dearest Laura,
Please accept this token of my gratitude for your help this spring.
I hope to see you again soon.
Fondest regards,
Thomas
My eyes re-read it again and again, my blood going cold.
I'm suddenly brought back to our first meeting. I watch from the shadows as women in white dresses swish with the music. Row after row of couples dance in the grand ballroom, even more sit and talk at the array of tables.
I'm half hidden behind a post in an abandoned corner, tapping my foot and buzzing with anticipation. I check the time and sigh, pressing my back against the pillar but being too fidgety to stay there long. Just as I am about to hazard another look, she barrels into me.
"Lady Eliza!"
I yelp, trying to keep my voice hushed. This plan has given me anxiety to no end, and I know if I am caught here, there will be hell to pay. Eliza isn't nervous though, clearly, because she laughs boisterously at my panicked expression.
She looks wonderful in her regalia, her snow-white dress with no end to poofs and frills. Her long gloves pass her elbow; her dance card in one hand and a cup of something I am assuming is alcohol—also forbidden by her parents—sloshes in the other.
"Don't be such a worrywart, Laura. No one knows you're here."
She waves away my protests and leans in, eyes glowing.
"You won't believe what I have to tell you," she says in a too-loud whisper. Despite myself, I can't help but lean in. "Katie heard from Josie that James Thorton heard the Duke say he wanted me! Me, Laura!"
My head spins, trying to keep track of the names she tells me nightly. I blink at her, and her face crumples as I clearly don't give her the reaction she was hoping for. She huffs, rolling her eyes.
"The Duke, Laura—the most handsome, perfect bachelor of the season— wants me!"
I still can't find her giddy joy, though.
"But, isn't he… 27?"
She smacks me on the arm with her dance card, indignant.
"Well, yes, but I'm 16 now, and you never know—we could wait until I'm 18 if necessary."
She says this with an air of superiority, already getting used to her apparent upgrade to Duchess. It seems crazy to me, and I had never really considered him as one of her options, or considered that she had any options at all, considering she's so young, even by court standards.
"Are you sure that's what they heard? And isn't it a little strange—for him to already be singling you out?"
I try to say this gently, but apparently I fail miserably, because Eliza's face becomes an all-too-familiar mask of anger. I groan inwardly.
"You never support me with anything!" The hurt is evident in her face, and her eyes well up with tears as she turns to stomp away from me—back into the whirling masses of people.
I sigh, already preparing my apology, when I hear a velvety smooth voice from the shadows.
"Hello."
I whip around, fear piercing my heart, as I look into the eyes of a tall man, clearly a gentleman.
Hurriedly, I bow. Curse Lady Eliza for convincing me I wouldn't get caught.
"I'm so sorry…" I pause, unsure of who exactly I am talking to.
He smiles easily, pushing off the wall and sauntering over to where I am. I swallow audibly.
"Your Grace."
My heart sinks into my shoes. Of course I would run into the highest-ranking noble when I'm not supposed to be here. I sink lower to the ground, my legs cramping.
"I'm so incredibly sorry, Your Grace." I want to run away, but I know it would probably make things worse. If he thought I was disobeying him or ignoring him, he would have my hide.
To my surprise, though, he waves an easy hand.
"You're forgiven. This is perfect anyway; I've been wanting to talk to you."
My eyebrows hit my hairline.
"To me, Your Grace?"
He smiles suavely.
"Indeed. you are Lady Eliza's maid are you not?" I blink in surprise, but nod. "You see," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I want to get to know her better, and you're closer to her than anyone."
Uneasiness makes my stomach feel slimy. I meant what I said to Eliza before—he's too old for her. Goodness knows he's too old for me, and I'm two years older than her.
I shudder internally at the thought, and then kick myself. He's a Duke, Laura. You could be punished just for thinking that.
My instinct is to tell him no, to tell him to find someone a more suitable age, but Eliza's ecstatic face flashes through my mind. She would never forgive me if I ruined her chances with him. I bite back a sigh and try to smile at him.
"You've come to the right place."
—
Each time he approached me, he would bring gifts for Lady Eliza, asking her preferences and which events she would attend with me. The last week of the season, just before everyone headed back to the country for the rest of the year, he approached me again.
"It's too bad we won't be able to have these secret meetings anymore." Thomas—as he insists I call him—says from where he is lounged on the couch. We're in a small sitting room, almost never used by the family, but I'm still anxious.
I sit ramrod straight on the farthest chair from him, wringing my hands until my nails bite into my skin. My palms are damp, my stomach twisting tighter the longer I'm made to sit here.
After that first meeting, I told Lady Eliza and the Housekeeper right away what had happened. Lady Eliza was ecstatic, and even the Housekeeper seemed pleased. I thought they would tell me I should avoid him, maybe even send me back to the country estate, but no. Instead, they insisted I be friendly with him.
"He is probably only giving you the time of day because he likes Lady Eliza," The Housekeeper stated. "It reflects well on him that he cares so much."
It didn't matter that I felt differently—I had to do what they said.
"Indeed, Your Grace."
He scowls, sitting up.
"How many times must I tell you to call me Thomas?"
I try not to shrink under his dark gaze.
"I'm sorry, Your Grace, but it's improper…" I trail off as he saunters over to me. My muscles scream from holding myself so rigid, but I don't dare move. When he plants his hands on either arm of my chair and leans in, the air thins, trapping me with him.
"Say it."
His voice is deep and commanding.
"Do what he says."
Panic flares up in me, my instincts and instructions warring within me.
"Thomas." My voice comes out weak.
"Again."
"Thomas." He smiles, leaning in even further.
"Again—"
I startle awake, the word still ringing in my ears. Cold sweat clinging to my back as I pant into the night. Looking around wildly, I slowly start to recognize my surroundings.
Right. I'm no longer there.
I've lost track of how many times my dreams have pulled me from my sleep tonight. I run a shaky hand over my face and try once again to relax.
It's futile, though, and my nightmares start anew.