When she heard his strange laughter, Jemima was momentarily taken aback. “Then what should I call you, my lord?”
“Roland will do,” he suggested. “Or Rolly. My friends call me Rolly.”
When Georgiana saw him stroking his stomach, she stuck out her tongue in disgust.
“V-very well. Rolly it shall be, then,” Jemima said, though his nickname sounded unnatural when spoken in her rigid tone. “Allow me to introduce my lovely daughters, Edith and Georgiana.” Jemima stepped aside and motioned toward her daughters.
“Edith and Georgiana. Edith and Georgiana. Edith and Georgiana,” Rolly repeated several times, because that was the only way he could learn names. “Which one's the pretty one?”
Jemima's eyes swelled. “Pardon?”
“The pretty one!” Roland repeated, and he thrust a meaty finger in Georgiana's direction. “Is that Georgiana or Edith?”
“That would be Lady Georgiana, my lord,” said Jemima. She exchanged glances with Edith, who looked a bit crestfallen. Most people could easily recognize that Georgiana had gotten all the beauty, but they were rarely tactless enough to point it out.
“Lady Georgiana!” Rolly repeated with a grin. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
“Likewise,” Georgiana obligatorily replied, her voice thoroughly lacking enthusiasm.
“Is Cynthia here?” Rolly asked. Something was dripping from his nose, so he wiped it on the sleeve of his greatcoat. His lack of manners earned him another repulsed grimace from Georgiana.
“Indeed. She is here,” Jemima said. “I believe we share the same opinion where Cynthia is concerned. I received your letter, Rolly. I am so sorry to hear she jilted you.”
Rolly's sizable shoulders fell. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he raked a foot across the ground in shame. “I asked her to marry me once.”
“I know. I read that in your letter.”
“She rejected me!” Rolly whimpered.
“I know. I know. And what a shame that is!” Jemima laughed. “Had she accepted you, she might have been the lady of this place right now!”
“I could have made her happy!” Rolly declared. Though he had proposed two years ago, her refusal to marry him still affected him tremendously. “I could have made her the happiest woman in the world, if only she had given me a chance!”
Jemima swept forward and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “There there. Do not fret, my lord. I have thought of a way we might be able to... to deal with her.”
Rolly scratched his smelly hair. “What do you mean?”
“Wouldn't you like revenge?” Jemima asked. “You could punish her for rejecting you, and I would also get what I want. You see... I really cannot tolerate the girl. She carries herself with an air of entitlement, and it grates against my nerves. The sight of her and her precious porcelain face makes my skin prickle with disgust! So... you could say... my idea would benefit us both.”
“What is your idea, madam?” Jemima wiggled her finger, so Rolly leaned forward and let her whisper her plot into his ear. When she was finished, a grin split his lips, and the gap between his teeth made a second appearance. “Hmm... I quite like that! Where is Cynthia? Send her in!”
Jemima told the butler to fetch her stepdaughter, and he went to retrieve her posthaste. Georgiana and Edith had no idea what their mother was plotting, but Edith was certain she would not approve.
“What is it, Mama?” Georgiana demanded. “What do you have in mind for Cynthia?! I need to know! Is it quite sinister?”
“Patience, dear,” the mother said. “You will find out soon enough!”
When Cynthia arrived, and her eyes drifted to Rolly, she had to force herself to smile. Despite Rolly's distaste for his cousin, a goofy grin appeared on his lips. Ever since they were children, he had always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. If only she would have him!
“Marry me!?” Rolly squeaked. The question popped out of his mouth without a second thought. When she heard his hastily uttered proposal, Jemima gasped. An offer of marriage certainly wasn't what they had in mind!
“Marry you?!” Cynthia repeated. “Are you serious, Roland?! Have we not been over this before?”
Roland collapsed to his knees in front of his cousin. He coiled his arms around her legs and pulled her toward him. Cynthia tried to free herself from his grasp, but he was holding onto her with a madman's fervor. She cast a desperate glance at Edith, but all she could do was shrug.
“Marrrrry meeee!” Roland whimpered. “Please oh please oh... you'll consider it, won't you? It would make me the happiest man alive!”
“Rolly!” Cynthia shouted. “No! No, I will not marry you!”
“No?”
“No!”
“Is that a... a firm no or a reluctant no?” Rolly asked hopefully.
“It was a firm no, I am afraid.”
Rolly finally released her legs and rose to his feet. He exchanged glances with the widowed countess, who gave him an encouraging nod. Jemima hoped his proposal was a last-ditch act of desperation, and now they could move on to the first phase of their plot.
“Very well then,” Rolly said with a sigh. “Then I have something else in mind for you, my dearest cousin.”
Jemima stepped forward and addressed her stepdaughter. “Rolly and I have reached an agreement. I said I would never throw you out of the house, Cynthia, and I meant it. How could I possibly toss you out when I could put you to good use?”
“What do you mean?” Cynthia asked, her lips quivering. She cast another glance at Edith, whose face was pinched with worry.
“What we mean is, my beautiful cousin...” Rolly cleared his throat before continuing. His hands were back on his stomach, stroking the robust mound. “As of tomorrow, you're going to work with the servants!”
Chapter Three
“The servants?! What?!”
“You heard us correctly, Cynthia. And we are quite serious,” her stepmother went on. “Either you can work with the servants, or you can live on the streets. It's your decision.”
“Mama!” Edith shouted. “Mama, this is an outrage!”
All of a sudden, Cynthia was a bit unsteady on her feet. The room was spinning, and she was seeing stars. It was as if she had been dealt a verbal slap to the face. “You can't do this!”
“Oh, but we can,” Jemima insisted. “We can, and we shall!”
“I'll live on the streets first!” Cynthia declared. “I won't let you insult me like this!”
Rolly reached for her arm, but she quickly pulled away. With a sigh, Rolly said, “I don't think that's such a good idea, cousin. The streets can be very... harsh. If you didn't have a place to stay, where would you go? You might be robbed. Or kidnapped. Or worse!” Roland grinned as he recited her potential fates.
Georgiana, who looked terribly amused by the turn of events, chimed in, “She would probably end up in prostitution! Can you not see it, Mama? Our Cynthia as some gentleman's doxy?”
“Mother, I will not stand for this!” Edith asserted. “What would people think if they found out you had your stepdaughter working as a servant? How would that reflect on you?”
Jemima faced her eldest daughter and exasperatedly rolled her eyes. “Edith... nothing you say could possibly change my mind. Either you assist Cynthia in accepting her fate, or you can join her!”
“Mama!”
“I mean it, Edith. Do not test my patience, or you might find yourself working in the kitchen!”
Edith turned to Cynthia, who shook her head in protest. If she was going to suffer, there was no reason Edith should suffer with her. With her head held high, Cynthia took a step toward Rolly. “Roland... you have the power here. You're really going to make me do this?”
“You're really not going to marry me?” Rolly fired back at her.
“No!”
“Then yes, Cynthia. You're going to be one of the servants, or I will cast you out!” Rolly resolutely crossed his
arms. “And it is uncommonly cold tonight. I don't think you want to be tossed out if you haven't a place to stay!”
“Very well...” Cynthia capsized. “You win, Lady Montforth. My fate is in your hands.”
“Ooooo!” Georgiana clapped her hands together and let out a coo of delight. “This will be so amusing! I'll have you wash my linens, iron my clothes, brush my hair. You can be my personal maidservant!”
“Come.” Jemima swept forward, grabbing Cynthia's arm. As they passed through the doorway, the mother cast a cautionary glance at Edith, warning her not to speak out of turn. Jemima's fingernails plunged into Cynthia's skin as she dragged her to the servants' quarters. When they were officially below stairs, they found three servants sitting around a dusty table.
The servants sprang to their feet as soon as they saw the ladies of the house enter their little hideaway. There were two men and one woman. The woman was about fifty, short and stocky, with wiry brown hair and masculine forearms. One of the men looked like he was in his late sixties, while the other one was quite young.
“How can we help you, my lady?” asked the stocky woman. Her gaze was firmly fixed on the floor as she spoke.
“Who is the one in charge here?!” Jemima barked.
“I-I am,” said the maid. She flinched a bit, as if she expected to be admonished.
“I have an announcement to make!” As Jemima made her declaration, she shoved her stepdaughter in the direction of the servants. “From this day forward, Cynthia Lockhart will be working with you. She will be a maid, a cook, a groom... she is whatever you need her to be. She is not to be addressed as my lady, or Lady Cynthia or even Miss Lockhart. When you are speaking to her, you will call her Cynthia, or you will call her nothing at all!”
With a gasp, the stocky maid asked, “Really, Lady Montforth?!”
“Absolutely. If you have any questions, ask them now. And make it quick, for I have other business that requires my attention.”
Cynthia's head drooped between her shoulders. She couldn't bring herself to look at the servants, whose faces were pinched with confusion. This had to be the most humiliating day of her life, and it would only get worse.
“Papa...” she whispered to herself, “oh, how I wish you were here.”
The younger man's arm shot up. “I have a question!”
“Yes?”
“Where is she supposed to sleep?”
“She will sleep down here with all of you,” Jemima said. “I trust you won't mind sharing a room with her, umm...” Jemima stared at the lady maid, trying to dig her name from the depths of her memory. As the servants' names were hardly worthy of note, she did not bother to retain them.
“Tess,” the woman said. “My name's Tess, and no... I certainly won't mind if the lady stays with me.”
“Call her Cynthia,” Jemima reminded her. “She is not a lady anymore, you understand? Any more questions?”
“What will she wear, my lady?” Tess asked.
“She will wear something a maid would wear, something drab and gray. As of now, her worldly possessions belong to me, and her dresses belong to Georgiana.”
“Lady Montforth!” Cynthia shouted. “I'm in mourning! You can't take everything away from me!”
Jemima seized the sleeve of Cynthia's black dress and shook her, wildly and madly, until they heard the sleeve rip. “And you, being a servant, will not talk back to me! Do you understand?!”
“I don't—”
“Do you understand?!”
Cynthia looked down at her sleeve, where the threads had been pulled away from her shoulder. There was now a significant hole in her mourning dress. “Yes...”
“Very good. Any more questions from you lot?” Jemima asked the servants. When they were silent for several seconds, she cheered, “Good! Then I'll be off. I trust you will make my stepdaughter comfortable? Although... I'm sure it isn't necessary for me to call her my stepdaughter anymore. The man is dead, after all!” Jemima chuckled as she hurried out of the room, leaving Cynthia alone with the three servants.
When Cynthia looked up at them, she realized, to her horror, that she did not even know their names. She lived under the same roof with these people and had never bothered to know more about them. One thing was certain: it was going to be an awkward introduction for everyone involved.
“I am... Cynthia.” She bobbed a curtsy as she uttered her name. “Although, I am sure you know that already.” She ended her sentence with a nervous chuckle.
“And I'm Tess, although I'm sure you gathered as much,” said the maid. “Is it alright for me to ask... what on earth is going on?!”
“I... I'm not sure myself,” Cynthia said with a shrug. “I always knew she hated me, and I wouldn't agree to marry Rolly. I suppose this is my punishment?”
“And it is definitely a punishment, working here,” said the younger man: a statement that earned him a slap on the arm from the brawny lady at his side. “Ow! What was that for, Tess?!”
“Don't frighten the lady!” Tess shouted at him.
“I'm not trying to frighten her. It's the truth!” The young man was still rubbing his arm and pouting. “We're so under-staffed, and there's so much work to be done! Did your stepmother tell you about that?”
“Tell me about what?” Cynthia asked.
“That there's just the t'ree of us! So we're expected to do all sorts of odd jobs. This week alone, I've had to be the footman, the cook, and the butler!”
Cynthia thought she detected a hint of an Irish accent, particularly in the way he said the word three.
“Oh... hush up and stop scarin' the girl!” Tess chided him. “Why don't the two of youse introduce yourselves?”
The younger man held out his hand, which was a bit dirty, especially around his fingernails. “The name's Robert,” he said.
“Um...” Cynthia had to study his hand for several seconds before she was finally brave enough to take it. “It is... a pleasure to meet you?”
“Never thought I'd see you down here, Princess,” Robert said. “I've seen some strange things in my lifetime, but I'll be damned if this don't beat all!” Tess whacked the side of his head, and he shrieked, “Ow! Why'd I get slapped again?!”
“Language!” Tess cautioned him. “Watch your language around the lady. I swear, it's as if you have no manners at all!”
“I have no matters attal!” Robert agreed, grinning. However, when he saw the tears wavering in Cynthia's eyes, his demeanor immediately softened. “Oi... I'm sorry to hear about your father. Lord Montforth wasn't a bad sort of man. He'll be missed, and, well... you have my condolences.”
Cynthia appreciated his attempt at compassion, so she flashed a weak smile.
“And you, you great lummox!” Tess pointed a sausage-like finger at the other man in the room. “Say something to the lady!”
“Something to the lady,” the older man grumbled. He was a very broad man, with a weathered face, white hair, tremendous bags under his eyes, and a mouth that looked like it had never smiled.
“Pay him no mind, dear. He's always like this,” Tess said. “His name's Soloman, and he's not much for talkin'.”
There was a long period of silence, during which Cynthia's stomach rumbled. She hadn't eaten anything all day, aside from a few bites of breakfast. Now that she was one of the servants, she wondered what she would eat.
“Am I really supposed to call you Cynthia?” Robert asked, his voice finally breaking the silence. “It's hard to imagine being so informal with a lord's daughter!”
“You may call me whatever you wish,” Cynthia said with a sigh. “I do not think it matters anymore.”
“Whatever I wish?” Robert teased her, his green eyes dancing with amusement. He had a very boyish face, but he was incredibly tall, so it was impossible to guess his age. “So I can call you Cynny? Thia? Or my personal favorite: Princess?”
Tess reached up as far as she could and pinched Robert's ear. “I swear to God, if you weren't such a large boy,
I would turn you over my knee!”
“I'm not so large. I'm quite skinny!” Robert protested.
“I mean you're too old for that!”
“Well... thank goodness for that!”
As she listened to the servants bicker, Cynthia stared at the floor and battled the tears that were forming in her eyes.
Her life, as she knew it, was officially over.
Chapter Four
Cynthia couldn't sleep again, and for a multitude of reasons. She was still plagued by her father's death, but even if he was alive and well, there was no way she could sleep under these circumstances. The room was drafty and cold, and the bedsheets were itchy. She thought she felt something crawling on her leg in the middle of the night, most likely a bed bug. On top of everything, she was sharing a room with Tess, whose loud snoring seemed to vibrate the walls.
When Tess woke up and saw her eyes open, she asked, “Already awake?” Cynthia didn't have the heart to tell her she had gotten less than an hour of sleep, and that Tess was one of the reasons for her sleeplessness.
“Yes...” Cynthia moaned. “I'm awake.”
“Good, 'cuz we wake up bright and early!” Tess rolled out of bed and started collecting her clothes. As she tossed a tatty maid's dress at Cynthia, she shouted, “Wear this.”
Cynthia held up the dress and frowned. It looked like typical maid's attire, except it was much too large for her. Tess was short and plump and nothing like Cynthia. Their differing body types should have been obvious, but Tess didn't bat an eye.
“We break our fast together, then we get right to work!” Tess said as she shoved her feet into a pair of dingy slippers. “You'll be working with Robert in the stables today.”
Cynthia sat up and clenched her fists. “What?! The stables?!”
“I suppose you'll be a groom of sorts. It's a strange job for a lady, but I've done it before, so you should be alright. Caring for the horses can be fun, actually, so we decided to start you off with that.” Tess headed for the door. “Now, I'll leave you to get dressed.”
Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story Page 2
