Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story

by K. L. O'Keefe

  “Gram, were you cooking?!” Robert grabbed one of his grandmother's rheumatic hands and gave it a stroke; her crooked fingers jutted in every direction. “You're terrible! I'm supposed to do the cooking around here!”

  “Well, sometimes I don't feel like waiting!” his grandmother exclaimed. She had a cane in her hand, which she used to swat his shin. Ignoring her grandson's wince, she waddled to a chair and collapsed into it. Then her gaze went back to Cynthia. “When are you going to introduce the young lady?!”

  “This is Cynthia.”

  “Cynthia,” his grandmother repeated. “It's lovely to meet you, Cynthia.”

  “Likewise.” Cynthia bobbed a curtsy.

  “Although, you haven't actually met me, have you? Because my foolish grandson has yet to introduce me!” Robert's grandmother jabbed her cane in his direction: a playful threat. “Do you expect her to refer to me as Robert's grandmother or that old lady throughout our entire acquaintance, or are you going to tell her my name?!”

  “Is something wrong with your tongue, Gram? I think you're perfectly capable of telling her your name!” Robert cheekily replied. “Besides, I think that old lady has quite a nice ring to it...”

  Gram leaned forward in her chair and, once again, swatted his shin with her cane. “What am I going to do with you, boy?! You're hopeless!” The old woman turned back to Cynthia and heaved a sigh. “My name is Ada, dear.”

  “Ada. That's a lovely name.”

  “I didn't raise him, so don't blame me for his foolishness,” Ada said, chuckling. “He can be quite a handful.”

  “He can be that,” Cynthia agreed.

  “Please tell me... you and my grandson aren't planning to get married?!”

  When she heard Ada's suggestion, Cynthia's eyes swelled. “M-Marry him?! No, of course not!”

  “Good. Because you're much too beautiful for him!” In the corner of her eye, Ada saw her grandson wrinkle his nose at her. “You have beautiful hair, Cynthia, if you don't mind me saying so. My hair is coarse and dry, like something that's been baked in the desert sun. But it wasn't always like this, you know. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have my beauty back! Well... that's not to say I was ever beautiful. I certainly wasn't beautiful like you, dear. You should enjoy your life and beauty while you have it, because believe me, it will be gone before you know it!”

  “You're absolutely teeming with optimism today, Gram!” Robert teased her.

  “When you're as old as me, optimism is hard to come by!” Ada said. “Now, Cynthia... be honest with me, dear. Are you and Robert romantically involved?”

  “No,” Cynthia reiterated. “It's really nothing like that.”

  “Please, Gram, don't nag our guest!” Robert exclaimed. “You asked the same question twice!”

  Gram swung her cane at him, but he was out of range. “I did not ask the same question! Getting married and getting romantically involved are two very different things! I am not so old and naive as to believe they go hand-in-hand!”

  “Well, there's no reason to speculate about Cynthia and me... she would never have me. She's in love with someone else.” Robert's gaze flickered to Cynthia, but only for a moment.

  “Is she?!” Ada folded her hands in her lap and leaned toward Cynthia, her blue eyes filled with interest and mischief. “Tell me about it!”

  “There's nothing to speak of, really,” Cynthia said. “The man Robert is referring to... he would never have me.”

  “Oh? And why not?”

  Robert slipped into the kitchen; as he left, he motioned for Cynthia to follow him. Grateful for the reprieve, Cynthia said, “Excuse me, Ada, I think Robert needs me in the kitchen.”

  “Oh, I'm sure he does!” Ada laughed. “That boy is incapable of doing anything by himself! If he messes up my bread, you have my permission to clobber him in the head with my rolling pin!”

  Cynthia flashed a tense smile at Ada, then she joined Robert in the kitchen. As soon as they were alone, Robert seized her arm, pulled her close, and leaned toward her. For a few strange seconds, Cynthia swore he was going to kiss her. That wasn't the case.

  “I don't understand,” he whispered.

  Cynthia's eyelids fluttered when she felt his breath on her cheek. “What? What do you not understand?”

  “Lord Charmington!” Robert exclaimed. “Why don't you think he would have you? You're an earl's daughter, not a maid. Why not confess your identity?!”

  “I... don't know. I've considered it, but... I am... afraid.”

  “Afraid of what, exactly?”

  Cynthia expelled a sorrowful breath. “I'm afraid of my stepmother's wrath. If she finds out, I know she would turn me out of the house. What would I do then?!”

  “Marry Lord Magnificent. Problem solved!” Robert released her arm and went to chop Ada's onion.

  “Why do you think he would marry me?”

  “Because he's smitten with you? It's obvious, isn't it?” As he minced the onion, Robert shook his head with disbelief. “I don't know why you would continue to be a maid when you have a perfectly viable solution to your problem.”

  “Why is it your concern, Robert? Do you want to be rid of me that badly?!”

  Robert laid a hand on his hip and glowered at her for several seconds. “Really?! Of course not. I'm just trying to help you, that's all.” He went back to chopping the onion, but not before expelling a tremendous sigh.

  “Very well, Robert... let's say I confess my identity to Lord Charmington,” Cynthia said. “Why should I expect him to marry me? He hardly knows me! My fate would be sealed.”

  “It would be worth the risk, wouldn't it?”

  “What if I don't marry him? Where would I go? What would I do? How would I--”

  “ROBERT!”

  When he heard his grandmother screaming at him from the next room, Robert flinched. With a pitiful frown on his lips, he reported, “Well... duty calls. Why don't you work on the bread while I'm gone?”

  “But I--” Robert was out of the room before she had a chance to tell him she did not remember how to make bread. Even if she had a recipe, which she didn't, Cynthia would not know where to begin. She thought about chopping some onions—which was a skill she had recently acquired—but Robert had already chopped the onion so finely, it was hardly necessary. Having no task to perform, Cynthia poked her head through the doorway and spied on Robert with his grandmother.

  “Is there anything else I can get you, Gram?” he asked, as politely as he could.

  “That blanket over there, if you please. I'm quite cold!”

  Cynthia watched him pull a blanket from the shelf and tuck it around his grandmother's legs. When he was bent over her, she gave him a gentle pat on the head.

  “Do you need me to build the fire?” he asked.

  “No. I think I'll survive.”

  “Anything else, Gram?”

  “Well... a bit of affection would be nice.”

  Cynthia caught a glimpse of Robert's smile as he bent to kiss his grandmother's cheek.

  For all their bickering, his grandmother was close to his heart.

  Chapter Eighteen

  As the taciturn butler led him down the hallway, the question was on the tip of James' tongue. He knew he might be venturing into inappropriate territory, but he had to ask.

  “Is Cynthia here?”

  “Pardon, my lord?” the butler slurred a response.

  “Cynthia? I am sure you know of whom I am speaking. She is... the pretty, blonde maid. We crossed paths the last time I was here, and I was wondering if she was around.”

  “What, my lord?” The butler dug a finger into his ear.

  “CYNTHIA!” James repeated for the third time.

  “Oh. Right. Cynthia.” When Soloman nodded, Lord Charmington breathed a sigh of relief. His relief was short-lived, however, because the butler failed to answer his question. He opened the door to a sitting room and announced, “Lord Charmington is here to see you, madam.”

  Edith was a
lone in the sitting room when the butler addressed her. She laid her needlepoint aside and straightened her back. “Show him in, of course.”

  When James stepped into the room, he swept his beaver hat from his head and bowed to Edith. “Good afternoon, Lady Edith.”

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” Edith said. “I am afraid you find me quite alone. My mother and Georgiana are in town, shopping for hats.”

  “Then perhaps I should not stay? It might be improper for us to be alone for so long.”

  And they were truly alone—the butler had silently disappeared through the doorway.

  “If you are concerned about impropriety, you shouldn't be. As I have no intention to marry, I see no reason why we should fret about my reputation.” Edith motioned toward the chaise lounge across from her. “Please, sit.”

  When James sat down, he laid his hat and walking stick beside him. They were quiet for several seconds, staring at each other in awkward silence. Edith tried to smile at him, but her tremulous smile was somewhat disingenuous.

  “Was there something in particular you wished to discuss? Or were you here to call on Georgiana?” Edith asked. With a twinkle in her eye, she added, “Or Cynthia, perhaps?”

  At the mention of Cynthia's name, James' eyes fluttered, as if he had been punched in the gut. “I should apologize for my fascination with your pretty maid. When I was painting her, I did not mean to get caught. I would not want her to suffer any repercussions because I decided to make her my muse.”

  “Of course not, my lord.” For the next several seconds, Edith stared out the window. She wanted so desperately to tell him about Cynthia, to tell him her stepsister's true identity, to unburden herself with the knowledge of Cynthia's fate. He needed to know the cruelty Cynthia had suffered at the hands of her mother. But it was Cynthia's secret to tell—not Edith's. If her stepsister wanted Lord Charmington to know, she would have to tell him herself.

  “The weather has improved,” James said, because he had no idea what to discuss with Edith.

  “Indeed it has,” she agreed. “It's much warmer now. It's hard to believe it was snowing just a few days ago.”

  “I hope the weather holds up until next week. I'm having a ball at Ridgeley Manor.”

  “Oh?” Edith folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to continue, but he didn't say anything. He must have been waiting for her reaction. “I... that's lovely, my lord. Am I to assume we are invited?”

  “Of course! You are are my closest neighbors, and we are becoming fast friends. I would certainly want you to be there. You, your mother, Lady Georgiana...”

  “I am sure you wish my sister would not come,” Edith said with a chuckle. “I know I am wicked for saying that, but it's true. Georgiana isn't exactly a joy to be around.”

  James opened his mouth to reply, but he did not know what to say.

  “I am sorry if I put you in an awkward position. I don't expect you to malign my sister,” Edith said.

  “I have noticed you and your sister are often at odds with each other.”

  “Oh dear. Is it that obvious?!” Edith chewed on her lip for several seconds.

  They fell into another awkward silence, and there was nothing left to discuss about the weather. James knew he could not stall much longer. He had to tell Edith the reason for his visit.

  “Do you mind if I share a burden with you, my lady?” James asked. “I have... a lot on my mind.”

  “Of course, Lord Charmington. You may share anything with me!”

  “Well... I... you see, Edith, I am...”

  “Take your time, my lord.” If she had been sitting beside him, Edith would have laid a hand on his shoulder. Something was greatly troubling him—it was obvious.

  “There is a reason for this ball,” James said. “My grandmother is frequently ill, and... my mother is pressuring me to find a wife. She wants me to have a wife and heir before my grandmother passes away. Not long ago, I promised my mother I would find a wife before my thirtieth birthday, and now my thirtieth birthday is fast approaching. I have finally decided to succumb to my mother's wishes and... and choose a bride.”

  “I am not sure if I should congratulate you or console you,” Edith said. “Is there someone in particular you had in mind?”

  “Not quite,” James said, even as an image of Cynthia's angelic face flashed before his mind's eye. “That is the reason I am having this ball. I know it might sound strange, but... on the day of the ball, I will propose to someone by the end of the night.”

  “I suppose I can understand your urgency.”

  “At any rate, I want every marriageable female to be there,” James continued. “I am inviting every eligible female I can think of... so, of course, I would want you and Lady Georgiana to be there.”

  “As I am hardly marriageable, you'll have to forgive me if I decline the invitation.”

  “Really, Edith?!” The disappointment in his puppy dog eyes was so evident, it almost made her feel guilty. “Perhaps you should give yourself more credit? You aren't exactly an old maid, and I would certainly want you to be there...”

  “It has nothing to do with me being a spinster, Lord Charmington... I don't particularly enjoy social gatherings. When I was younger, I was always a wallflower. When I reached a certain age, I decided I would never attend another ball again. I no longer cared to subject myself to ridicule and disappointment,” Edith explained. “However, Georgiana will surely want to be there. I will be sure to pass your invitation to her.”

  And to Cynthia as well, she thought with a grin.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cynthia had her ear pressed to the drawing room door, where she could hear her stepmother and stepsisters discussing Lord Charmington's ball. While she wasn't particularly fond of eavesdropping, she could not resist the temptation to listen in.

  “You need to make me look beautiful, Mama!”

  “But you always look beautiful, Georgiana.”

  “I know I do!” On the other side of the door, Cynthia rolled her eyes at Georgiana's vanity. “But I need to look my best... I need to look ethereal! I will have to wear my finest dress, and weave some flowers into my hair. I need to ensure he will choose me, and no one else!”

  “And who else would he choose, dear? He has been calling on you nearly every day!”

  “He came to see me...” Cynthia whispered to herself. “He wants me.”

  “Is he really going to propose to someone by the end of the night?” Georgiana squealed.

  To which Edith emptily responded, “That is what he told me.”

  “Oh, I can hardly contain my excitement! In another twenty four hours, I might be engaged to the man of my dreams! And oh, Mama, he really IS the man of my dreams! He's handsome and charming and clever and kind... he likes reading and painting and horseback riding. My heart flutters at the thought of him!”

  “Dear...” As soon as she heard her stepmother's voice, Cynthia could hear footsteps moving across the room. “Do you see the shadow under the door? A bit peculiar, wouldn't you say? I think someone might be spying on us!”

  Before Cynthia had a chance to react, Jemima threw open the door. “Cynthia!” her stepmother shrieked. “Cynthia, what are you doing?! Are you eavesdropping on our conversation?! How dare you! Aren't you supposed to be working?!”

  Cynthia timidly clasped her hands behind her back and stepped away from Lady Montforth. She was afraid Jemima might try to wring her neck—or worse. “I... I wanted to talk about the ball,” Cynthia said.

  “What ball?!” As Jemima glared at her stepdaughter, it was as if her eyes possessed all of the world's fury. “You weren't supposed to know about that! Who told you about that?!” Before Cynthia could respond, Jemima turned her fury on Edith. “It was you, wasn't it? How dare you!”

  Edith simply shrugged. She refused to be a victim of her mother's intimidation tactics. “I think she deserved to know.”

  “And I think I should go to the ball,” Cynthia suggested hopefully
. “Lord Charmington wants every marriageable female to attend. I am not a maid, I am an earl's daughter! I have every right to be there!”

  “You were an earl's daughter. That man is dead, you hear me? Dead!” Jemima seized her stepdaughter's arm and dragged her away from the drawing room. “Now you are a servant, and that is what you will always be! The next time you protest, I will throw you out of Montforth Hall forever... I swear I will! Everything your father owned... everything your father cherished... you will never see it again!”

  Cynthia looked down at her arm, where Jemima was pinching her flesh. “You're hurting me!”

  “Good!” Jemima opened the door to the servants' quarters and shoved her stepdaughter inside. “There's nothing like a bit of pain to prove one's point!”

  As soon as her stepmother slammed the door, Cynthia collapsed in a chair and sobbed. She buried her face behind her hands and erupted with a tremendous wail of despair. It wasn't fair! She was tired of feeling as if her hands were tied. What was she supposed to do?!

  When Robert heard her crying, he flew out of his room and knelt by her side. “Cynthia? Cynthia, what's wrong?!”

  “I... I'm sad,” she mumbled at him through her fingers.

  “I can see that!” Robert tugged one of Cynthia's hands away from her face and held it between his. “Tell me what's wrong!”

  “The ball...” she squeaked. “I wanted to go. I wanted to go so badly!”

  “What ball?”

  “Lord Charmington's...” Cynthia didn't want Robert staring at her tears, so she turned her head away from him. “He is supposed to choose a wife. I need to be there!”

  “And why shouldn't you go?”

  “He thinks I'm a maid!” Cynthia exclaimed. “I... I have nothing suitable to wear! All of my possessions were taken away from me. If I showed up at his estate in a maid's dress, they would show me to the kitchen!”

  “Not necessarily,” a female voice chimed in.

  When Cynthia saw Edith standing in the doorway, she breathed a sigh of relief. Her stepsisters had similar voices; the last thing she needed was to have Georgiana railing at her.