by Joyce Alec
She stopped, and a sadness passed over her face that Robert nearly felt himself.
“One of the women looked me straight in the face the other morning and told me that I should remember my place in society.”
The very statement was a sort of contradiction to the situation in which he and she found themselves. What would this woman say to her if she were to know that she was speaking her mind so openly with a man to whom she was not married? To a man who was the son of a duke, the brother of her master?
She seemed to realize the same thing at the very same time, for she stood slightly taller and blinked a few tears from her eyes.
“It is not as if I have been trying to do otherwise,” she finished, and she looked about her.
Robert felt helpless, unsure of what to say to her. He knew that he needed to say something, for she stood there in front of him, and the moments were passing slowly between them.
“Whatever anyone tells you, Thompson,” he began slowly, choosing his words carefully, “Intelligence is a wonderful thing. Those who do not agree are too naïve to understand the joys that it brings.”
Her poise had returned while he spoke, and once more, they were a man and his sister-in-law’s lady’s maid. She was dignified and responsible, and they were safe from any sort of problems their interactions could have caused.
“Thank you, my lord. I will keep that in mind.”
He looked around, amazed that they had remained undisturbed for so long. He collected his book from the table, walked across the room to her, and offered it out to her.
“Here. Take this. I think you will find it most interesting, especially with your love for literature.”
She looked at him with eyes like a doe before she took it slowly from his hands.
“When you are done, just place it back here.” He pointed to an empty gap in the shelf. “I imagine it won’t take you long to read it,” he smiled.
She held the book as if it were something special, something fragile.
“I…” she stammered, and she met his gaze with her wide, grey eyes. “Thank you, my lord.”
He smiled at her.
“I really must be getting back to my duties,” she said, and she tucked the book into the apron around her waist.
“I understand,” he said, and he returned to the chair he had been sitting in.
“My lord?” she said, standing beside the door.
He looked up at her, and he felt his heart clench. He wished that she could have stood there and looked at him all day like that, the sunlight behind her, causing her hair to look as if it truly were licks of flames. He was sure that he would think about it later.
“Yes, Thompson?” he said, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
“Thank you,” she said, and the formality was not present.
He smiled at her. “It is my pleasure, Thompson.”
And then she left the room, leaving an emptiness that Robert was not sure he had ever experienced before.
4
Nothing to Be Done About It
Life at the manor had started to become easy and comfortable. Agnes and John were getting familiar with their new home. Agnes had a routine that she followed each day, and it brought her joy and contentment.
Each morning she enjoyed breakfast with her husband, and then she retired to the stables for a ride on her horse. Once she grew tired, she would take a walk around the gardens, and then after luncheon, she would enjoy some reading on the terrace. By evening, they often had obligations to attend parties, dine with friends, or host their own guests. The evenings varied night by night, but Agnes would often lie down to sleep before the moon had risen too high in the sky.
That morning was no different from any other, for Agnes happily enjoyed breakfast with John and Robert, who was still visiting. The time of his visit was drawing to a close, and she wished that it was not, for she so enjoyed his company. He had business to attend to in London soon after he left, and he ensured her that he would be returning to see them.
As much as she was pleased to have him around, something about his presence did make her uneasy. Not because he was an ungrateful guest. No, she had cause for concern because he was beginning to pay a little too much attention to Alice.
At first, she thought it was harmless. He was an agreeable man after all, and she believed he was simply attempting to be polite. He would ask her how her day had been, and if she was still pleased with her accommodations at the manor. Never did it cause her to glance a second time.
But then she heard him ask her once what she was reading. She found that odd because Alice felt her education was a source of contention with everyone around her, aside from herself. How was he aware of it? She brushed it off, assuming that he had caught her reading at some point, and since Robert was such an avid reader himself, she wanted to believe he was just being kind.
She could have ignored all of that if he had not attempted to do all he could to remain in the same room as Alice. He would engage both of them in conversation that bordered on inappropriate, and yet, she could see that he was entirely innocent of wrong intentions. She almost pitied him, seeing how he chased after her like a puppy.
What frustrated her was that she had seen Alice resist at first, despite Robert’s handsome smiles and amiable questioning. She was polite, but she was dismissive.
Good, she has listened to me, Agnes thought. I might have to have a word with my husband if this keeps up.
But now, Alice was returning the smiles, and often, the two of them were sharing glances that were far too long for people who were supposedly so unfamiliar with one another.
Agnes understood the appeal. Robert was a man of great connections; his father was a duke, and while not the heir, he would inherit much more than Alice would ever hope to want. And he was a handsome man, with strong features, a wide and gentle smile, and an intelligence that was unmatched.
And Alice was a very beautiful woman, and Agnes had never thought otherwise. Many of the male stable hands and servants had made mention of it, and many had attempted to woo her themselves. But she was too hurt, as many of them had looked down on her for her love of reading and books. Some of the same men that told her to remember her place in society had tried to ask for her hand. Alice spent many evenings in Agnes’s room in tears, feeling as if she had failed herself and her family for turning them down.
Agnes wished, not for the first time, that Alice had been born to a different family, so that she did not have to bear the burdens she did. Alice was too frail a girl to be in the situations in which she found herself.
On the morning of Robert’s departure to return home, Agnes heard Alice and Robert speaking to one another in low whispers around a corner, entirely alone, in a hallway just off the dining room. Agnes waited until Alice turned the corner, a girlish smile on her face.
“What exactly do you think you are doing?” Agnes’s words came out far angrier than she had meant, but it caused the reaction she hoped.
Alice, who had been lost in her own thoughts, nearly stumbled as she looked up at Agnes, and the realization came immediately after.
“My lady,” she said, bowing her head. “I…My apologies. I just…”
Agnes grabbed the Alice by the arm and guided her into the adjacent sitting room. She rounded on her as soon as she was sure they were alone.
“Alice, what did I tell you about keeping your distance from His Lordship’s brother?”
Alice’s face had lost all of its color. Her lips were almost white, and her grey eyes were like deep pits of despair.
She stammered, her hands clutched in her apron around her waist. She mentioned something about it being an accident, and how she never meant to, but he just was so nice, and…
Agnes sighed heavily and sank into the chair behind her. She felt lightheaded and immensely responsible for what was happening to her maid.
“Sit down,” Agnes said, gesturing to the chair across from her.
Alice lo
oked as if she could not move even if she wanted to.
“Sit,” Agnes said again, her voice firmer. She disliked having to be authoritative with Alice, since they were friends, but in that moment, in order to protect her, she set some of her own feelings aside.
Alice slowly lowered herself into the chair, straightening the fabric of her dress as she did so.
Agnes stared at her friend, unsure of how to proceed. She hoped that she would just confess to everything, having been caught speaking to Robert in the first place. But Alice’s face was blank, aside from her wide eyes.
Agnes sighed heavily and felt that it brought no relief.
“I should not have to say this again,” she began, but she stopped when she saw Alice’s distraught expression.
And it made Agnes’s heart clench when she saw tears in Alice’s eyes.
“No, you are completely right,” Alice began, and her voice was tight. “I have been a complete fool. And yet, I cannot seem to help myself.” She buried her face in her hands and began to cry in earnest.
Agnes rose from her seat and sat herself down on the sofa beside Alice. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“I am so sorry, mistress,” Alice said. It felt like a blow to Agnes, since Alice had not called her mistress since they were little. “He has been so kind to me, and he understands me like no one else ever has.”
She sniffed into Agnes’s shoulder. “Well, no one aside from you, of course.”
Agnes smiled.
“What has happened?” Agnes said, helping Alice to sit up straight again. She wanted to look into her face when she answered.
Alice shook her head, her cheeks still shining with tears. “Nothing, my lady, of course nothing. We have just talked.” She looked down at her hands which were in her lap, and a few tears splashed onto her delicate fingers. “He asks me such kind questions, and he has given me books to read. He…” she smiled, and it seemed to be painful, “He is such a wholesome man. He would never do anything to put me in any sort of danger or damage my reputation.”
Agnes nodded her head. The answer was somewhat of a relief, but Alice was still in danger if she was not careful. Somehow, she had to make that perfectly clear to her.
“He is a man of great stature.” Agnes began, hoping that if Alice remembered this fact, then she would remember that there was no way that they could ever have a relationship of any sort. How could she communicate this as gently as possible?
“I know,” Alice replied. “I have not forgotten.”
“It just… it can never work. As cruel as it sounds, as much as it hurts, it can never work.”
She decided on the direct approach. There was no way around the truth, after all. She had to face the facts, and perhaps head on was the best way.
Alice nodded solemnly. “I know. And I believe he knows. We’ve never even discussed it, and yet…” her voice trailed off. “There is something there. And I know he feels it, too. I can see it in his eyes when he looks into mine.”
Agnes felt her heart breaking. How rare was it for two people to find love in such a strong and evident way? She certainly had not with her husband; it had been painful and a struggle for them. How unfair it was that her friend found the love of a man who she could never have.
Agnes saw her own thoughts reflected in Alice’s eyes as she looked at her. Alice sighed, and wiped the tears from her face.
Alice continued. “You are right. Nothing can be done to change the situation. He is the son of a duke, and I am a servant.” she sighed. “I feel as if I have been reminded of that a great deal as of late.”
“I know…” Agnes said. “And for what it is worth, I’m sorry.”
Alice looked over at Agnes, and she smiled. Tiny shimmers of light caught in her eyelashes. Agnes felt as if she was being torn apart from the inside out.
“So what will you do?” Agnes said.
Alice looked back down at her lap. “I don’t know. Try to forget, I suppose. Nothing else can be done.”
Agnes sighed. “I wish things were different. Perhaps it is better that you don’t see him again. It may make things easier for you.”
“It’s no matter. He just left, remember?”
“Heaven help us all, that is good news,” Agnes replied sadly.
“It is good news,” a voice said, and Agnes felt as if she had been stabbed through with a blade of ice.
A striking blonde woman stepped into the room. She wore a smirk that looked anything but kind and a dress that was as deep blue as the ocean. She seemed almost amused to be walking into such a private and obviously distressing conversation.
It was Lord Bridgewater’s middle sister, Lady Jane Stone.
Jane was a beauty among women. Agnes had been reminded of it time and time again from friends and family. Jane knew it as well. In addition to Jane’s good looks, she was the daughter of duke and would receive a handsome dowry when she married. She had many suitors, and she made no effort to hide the fact.
As Jane stepped farther into the room, Agnes immediately wished that she had dragged Alice all the way back up to her chambers before continuing the conversation about Robert. How foolish could she have been to believe that they would not be disturbed or overheard where they were?
Jane looked between Agnes and Alice and crossed her arms across her chest.
“Do my ears deceive me?” Jane asked, her tone cold and yet, quite placid. “Or did I just hear that your maid is in love with my brother?”
To hear it so starkly put, Agnes wondered why she had not been more afraid for Alice from the beginning.
The color that had returned to Alice’s face was gone once more; she looked as if all the life had drained from her, and there was nothing between her and death’s door.
“And not just in love, but making advances toward him?”
Agnes stood to her feet. She was taller than Jane, but she did not feel it as she glared at the other woman.
“Listen, dear sister,” she attempted as honeyed words as possible, “It is nothing like that. She and Robert have simply–”
“What?” Jane cut in, her gaze steady and unwavering, her voice even. “Be very careful how you finish that sentence, dear sister, for it could very well mean her demise,” she said, pointing her chin in the direction of Alice.
Agnes felt her blood turn cold.
She could see Alice was trembling from her seat. Her back was erect, and she gazed into some far distant place. Perhaps she wished that the earth would simply swallow her where she sat.
Agnes certainly wished it would, for her sake.
“Jane,” Agnes began, and she forced as genuine of a smile as she could muster. “I understand your concerns, but truly, Thompson has not done anything wrong. If you feel differently, I encourage you to speak to Robert.”
“If she has done nothing wrong, what did I overhear?” She snapped her attention to Alice, who still would not look up. “’There is something there. And I know he feels it too. I can see it in his eyes when he looks into mine…’ What was all that, except declarations of love for a man she can never have?”
Agnes swallowed, unable to answer. So she did hear us speaking…
Up until that moment, Agnes hoped with every fiber of her being that Jane had simply assumed what conversation had taken place. However, Jane knew heard every word; Alice had very little ground to stand upon.
“Well, I will not hear of it!” Jane said. Her pretty face had contorted into a look of contempt and almost rage. Her eyes blazed, and she looked down on Alice as if she were nothing more than a pig ready for slaughter. “You will not step into his life and ruin it!”
“Jane, I–” Agnes began, feeling the words dig into her as if they were directed at her. She could not imagine what Alice must have been feeling.
“No!” Jane protested. She took a step back toward the door. “No. My brother is a good man, an honorable man. He would never get mixed up with such…squalor!”
Agnes gaped at her sister-in-law.
Jane continued. “This sort of behavior could ruin him forever, and it would be entirely her fault!”
She pointed a pretty finger at Alice, who Agnes saw would have crumbled to pieces if a stiff wind had blown through.
“No, this will not be!” Jane continued. She grasped the door handle and turned to look at Agnes. “I am going to my father about this. He will see to it that all of this madness comes to an end!”
“Wait!” Both Agnes and Alice cried out at once.
Alice was again on her feet, and she, like Agnes, had her hand stretched out toward Jane. The three women looked at one another in surprise, but quickly Jane’s glare returned.
“So the little whelp speaks,” she said, her eyes becoming like the narrow slits of a serpent.
Alice was breathing heavy and looked as if she might bolt, like a deer caught in a trap.
“Jane, this is all just a misunderstanding,” Agnes began quickly. “Surely you cannot mean to take something as small as an admiration for your brother to your father? It is such an innocent thing.”
“Innocent?” Jane sneered. “This is downright wickedness! My brother would never love a woman such as she. He has far too much sense, too much pride in his family. He would never dare to dishonor his family in such a way.”
“Now see here,” Agnes said, standing taller. She felt her brows furrow. “I will not have you speak about my servant in such a manner in my own home.”
She had said the wrong thing; it was evident at once.
Jane grinned, and she took another step out the door. “Oh, never fear, sister of mine. I shall not linger here another moment. I will return to my own home, where my father will be hearing all about this atrocity!”
And without another word, Jane left the room.
Alice and Agnes stood alone in the room, staring at the empty door where Jane had just been standing.
