"All what, Mr Hobbs?"
"Why, civilisation as we know it my girl."
And so, under Mr Hobbs' strict tutelage, Ava began her education. Once she had learned her alphabet, Mr Hobbs moved swiftly; Homer, Cicero, Socrates, and Plato—within a year Ava was well versed in all the ancient texts and teachings. They then moved on to the Renaissance period, followed by the Enlightenment and finally Romanticism—which was Mr Hobbs' personal favourite. Ava read vociferously, often retiring to bed with a candle and a half dozen books. Soon, she was so well versed, that Mr Hobbs allowed her to assist Philip in fetching books from the shelves, and even—on occasion—to recommend to other young ladies, the newest Gothic novel from Minerva Press.
For eight years, the hotchpotch family of Mr Hobbs, Percy and Ava, had lived contentedly above the library in Cecil Court until, just after Ava's twentieth birthday, Mr Hobbs had taken a fit. The physician who attended him had declared Mr Hobbs lucky to be alive, though his speech might never return, nor would he ever walk properly again. Retirement to the country was what was prescribed and Percy, who had been with Mr Hobbs since they were both young men, sent to Hampshire for the nephew who would take over the running of the business.
Ava had disliked Boris from the very beginning. A young man of thirty years, he had a serious countenance and a closed mind.
"A man might as well turn his daughter loose in Covent Garden, as trust the cultivation of her mind to a circulating library," he had quoted George Coleman with a disapproving sniff to Ava on his first day. This remark had come after a gaggle of young ladies had left the counter, clutching the latest instalment of a popular romance novel. Ava had wanted to say that young ladies were now the bread and butter customers of most libraries, but had not had a chance, for Boris had ordered her into the back, lest any of the customers were put off by seeing a woman at the counter.
Her tasks soon returned to the mundane cleaning and care of the living quarters and library, and Boris would no longer allow her to remove novels from the library shelves to read at night. Ava, who had begun to despair, was relieved by the arrival from Hampshire of Percy one winter's evening.
"I am in town to fetch Mr Hobbs some items and to check in on you, at his request," Percy explained kindly to Ava, as he settled into his seat by the warm kitchen stove. "How goes it with young Boris?"
"It does not go well," Ava had whispered, afraid that Boris, who was relaxing in the parlour room next door, might overhear them.
"Mr Hobbs feared as much," Percy said with a sigh, "Still, he has a plan for you."
"Really?" Ava had been touched to hear that Mr Hobbs still cared for her future, despite his own ill-fortune.
"He's going to find you a position as a governess."
"A governess?" Ava had echoed him in disbelief, "Only ladies are hired for that position—I am no lady."
"No," Percy had bestowed a kind smile upon her, "You are not; but Mr Hobbs feels that nobody needs to know the circumstances of your birth. Besides, apart from lineage, you are most qualified to teach children simple letters and arithmetic. They would be lucky to have you."
Gemini. Ava had flushed at Percy's compliments and hastily agreed that she would take up whatever position Mr Hobbs was able to find for her.
"And, once you have demonstrated to one family how able you are," the elderly servant had said as he left, "You shan't find it hard to find another position. You will always have a home, as a governess."
And so, Ava had waited patiently for news from Mr Hobbs for nearly a month, until finally a letter arrived instructing her to arrive at Hiddlestone Manor in Kent in a fortnight, to present herself to the Duke of Hemsworth.
Ava had immediately given Boris notice of her intention to leave, which had been met with much grumbles about ingratitude and people having ideas above their station, which she had ignored.
For nearly two weeks she had carried out her tasks with an absent mind, both excited and frightened by the prospect of a new career, nay a new life, as a governess.
"If you're quite finished dawdling, I need you to fetch Miss Edgeworth's latest and bring it to Lady Georgiana in the reading room."
Boris' dispassionate voice was the first thing that greeted Ava when she returned from emptying her bucket. Glad to have a task that, for once, did not involve a mop, Ava quickly found a copy of Castle Rackrent and made a beeline for the reading room.
Lady Georgiana was Ava's favourite customer, mostly because of her gay and friendly disposition, though the fact that she was always accompanied by her handsome Uncle—the Duke of Kilbride--also helped.
The young lady, who was seated on one of the plush chaise lounges by the fire, gave Ava a warm smile in greeting.
"My thanks," she said, as she accepted the book with a sigh of excitement, before addressing her uncle. "They have it Uncle Raff, you were right."
"Mr Hobbs' is known for holding every copy of every book in existence—even dross like that," an amused voice called from behind a newspaper.
Ava held her breath, hoping that the duke would lower the pages, so that she might catch a glimpse of his piercing blue eyes one last time. For the past year, the Duke of Kilbride had brought his niece to Mr Hobbs' once a week, and every time he entered the same room as her, Ava felt as though all the air had been sucked out of her body.
It wasn't his title, or his handsome good looks that so affected her, but rather the strange feeling that she knew him, that she understood him, heart and soul. It was, of course, complete fantasy on her part, but in the duke's soft, blue eyes Ava detected the same feeling of loss that filled her own soul and she longed to reach out and comfort him.
Imagine the duke's reaction if he knew that you, a mere servant, felt pity for him, she thought, as she gave Lady Georgiana a curtsy and made to leave the room.
"How is Mr Hobbs?"
The deep, masculine voice stopped her in her tracks, and with shaking knees Ava turned to the man who had addressed her.
"He is much better, Your Grace," she replied, her voice just a little above a whisper. "The country air suits him and, I am told, he enjoys having more free time for reading."
"Good, I am glad to hear he is well."
The paper was lowered and a set of piercing blue eyes met Ava's. The instant their eyes locked, the duke gave a frown, as though perturbed by something. Hoping that she had not been too forward in meeting his gaze, Ava lowered her eyes to the floor and was grateful when Lady Georgiana spoke again.
"I must tell Lady Emily that she might pick up a copy here too," Lady Georgiana said in reference to the book in her hands. "Oh, I am so glad that you have chosen a bride who reads as much as I do, Uncle Raff. I wouldn't have been able to stand it if you had become betrothed to some ninny-headed twit."
"Indeed," the duke replied, though his gaze still lingered curiously upon Ava.
"Do you have a second copy?" Lady Georgiana enquired of Ava, who, grateful for the excuse to leave, replied that she would go and check.
Silly girl, she chided herself as she raced outside to find Philip, to look a duke so obstinately in the eye. What did you imagine—that his eyes would meet yours and he would instantly feel the same connection as you? You're lucky he did not call for Mr Hobbs and have you ejected!
Too nervous to return to the reading room, Ava implored Philip to go and tell her ladyship that there was, indeed, a second copy of Castle Rackrent, and that they would hold it for Lady Emily. Then, lest Boris took it upon himself to give her another task, Ava hastily reached for her mop and began to clean the floor by the doorway, which once again was covered in rainwater.
The duke and his niece must have left in the few minutes in which Ava had retreated to the alleyway to empty her bucket of water, for, as she passed the reading room, she did not spy him there. She quashed her feeling of disappointment, arguing pragmatically with herself that there was no point in mooning over a man like the Duke of Kilbride, for he would never fall in love with as lowly as she—no matter how
much she felt she understood him.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully. Boris retired upstairs at half past six, leaving Ava and Philip to close up. The circulating library's new proprietor did not even acknowledge that this was the last time he would see Ava, leaving without even glancing at her.
"Miserable so and so," Philip whispered conspiratorially, once the door had shut behind Boris.
"I feel bad," Ava replied lightly, "Leaving you alone with him."
"Pfft, I can handle him. Don't worry about me," the young clerk said with a wink, but then his face grew thoughtful. "Though, if it's guilt you're feeling, you might let me leave a little early and close up by yourself?"
Philip gave Ava a cheeky smile and she laughed; Philip could be very charming when he wished to be.
"Go, go," she said, fighting back the tears which threatened, "Though promise me you will keep in touch."
"You have my word," the young clerk replied, gallantly lifting her hand to his lips and planting a kiss upon it. "As I live and breathe, I shall never forget you, Ava Smith."
She smiled at his theatrics, knowing full well that a young man like Philip, who seemed to have a different sweetheart every week, would forget her in a sennight.
The bell above the shop door tinkled as Philip left, leaving Ava by herself in the library. Rain lashed against the window and the howling wind kept the customers away—allowing Ava time alone to say her goodbyes to Mr Hobbs'. For a few minutes she wandered the room, her fingers trailing along the spines of the leather-bound books upon the shelves, as in her mind she relived happier times with Mr Hobbs and Percy.
Just as she had decided to lock up for the night, the door was pushed open, bringing with it a strong gust of wind and another puddle of rain.
"Oh, dear, Mary," a light, feminine voice said, "I did not realise it was so bad when we set out. You must think me most silly for dragging you out in a gale."
"Not at all, my Lady," a voice replied, though to Ava it sounded as though the speaker definitely thought her mistress most silly.
Realising that it was she who must serve the mysterious lady and her surly maid, Ava rushed out from behind the bookshelves and made her way to the counter.
"How may I be of assistance?" she said, turning toward the well dressed young woman with a smile.
That same smile faltered as her customer turned toward her and Ava found herself face to face with her own mirror image.
Chapter Two
"Gemini!"
The well-dressed young woman spoke first, her face lighting up with excitement as she looked Ava up and down, from top to toe.
"Be the holy God," the maid, Mary, added, blessing herself as she stared with horror between Ava and her mistress. "'Tis the devil himself, my Lady."
"I am not the devil," Ava protested, casting an annoyed glance at Mary.
"It's said he speaks only lies," Mary whispered, edging closer to her mistress, "Be careful, now, my lady. No sudden movements."
"Gracious, Mary," the girl who looked so like Ava laughed, and Ava was shocked to hear it sounded so like her own carefree giggle. "She's not the devil and nor am I. She's simply a girl who looks like me, that's all."
"She doesn't simply look like you," Mary protested, "She is you. What's the bet that when she takes off that awful cap, her hair's the same ebony black as your own?"
"Must every situation evolve into an opportunity for gambling?" the young woman grumbled with a roll of her eyes, before turning to Ava with a curious expression. "May I ask you to remove your cap?"
Ava mutely obliged, tugging off the hideous, white cap which covered her hair, in one fluid motion. She did not have to wait long for the two women's reaction, for the instant that she revealed her hair to be the same dark, mass of black curls as the lady's opposite her, they both gasped in astonishment. Though the other girl's curls, Ava thought with admiration, had somehow been tamed into a rather stylish up-do.
"Lud," the girl whispered, her green eyes meeting Ava's in shock and confusion, "We could be twins."
"Indeed, we could," Ava stammered, "But how could it be so?"
"The birthmark," Mary interrupted excitedly, pointing at Ava as she addressed her. "Tell me, Miss, do you have a birthmark at all?"
"I do," Ava admitted.
"Where is it and what shape?" the maid continued to probe.
"Upon my thigh," Ava whispered, knowing that one should never mention body parts in front of well-bred ladies, "A small heart shape."
"Gemini," the girl whispered again, reaching out to take Ava's hand in her own. "I have the exact same mark. What do you think it means?"
It means that we must be twins, Ava thought, but even in her shock she knew that she could not suggest such a thing to a member of the ton. Luckily, Mary, the Irish maid, seemed to have no reservations in speaking her mind.
"What else can it mean, but that you're twins?" she said with a roll of her eyes. "I've never seen two people more alike in my life. Look—even that mole upon your cheek is the same, Lady Emily."
"It's not a mole, it's a freckle," Lady Emily replied defensively, raising a gloved hand to her cheek. Ava, despite her best effort not to, snorted with laughter at the girl's objection to calling her mole—or was it their mole?—a mole.
"I rather think," Ava said, assuming an air of composure that she did not truly feel, "That now is not the time to quibble over semantics."
"You're right," Lady Emily cast her a smile, "It's not. I simply must know everything about you. What's your name? Where were you born? Where did you grow up? Who were your parents?"
"Ava Smith. London. The Asylum for Orphaned Girls in Lambeth. And, I don't know," Ava answered in one quick exhalation of breath.
"You're an orphan?" Lady Emily turned to her maid, her brow creased in confusion. "Whatever can Mother and Father have been thinking, leaving my twin sister to be raised in an orphanage? It wasn't as though they didn't have the funds to raise twins! How can they have been so cruel?"
"Ahem," Mary cleared her throat delicately. "My lady, I do not think the Marquess and Marchioness of Havisham would have been anyway inclined toward discarding their own flesh and blood to a filthy orphanage. Perhaps, and don't take fright, you too were born within the asylum walls, but Lord and Lady Fairfax adopted you out? That's the explanation that makes most sense to my mind."
"But," Lady Emily turned back toward Ava, her eyes resting upon her worn dress and sturdy boots. "Why would they have taken only one of us?"
"That, I do not know," Mary replied with a shrug, casting a pitying glance upon Ava, though Ava was dealing with too many conflicting emotions of her own to notice. For the first twelve years of her life she had known no family, and then when she had finally found a make-shift clan in Percy and Mr Hobbs, it had been snatched away from her. Now, standing before her, was a girl who, to all intents and purposes, shared her blood. It was all a little much for Ava to handle.
"Take a big whiff," Mary, spotting that Ava was about to faint, shoved a bottle of something pungent under her nose. Ava did as she was instructed, and inhaled a big sniff of what smelled like mint and rosemary, and instantly felt much revived.
"There's no shame in taking a fit of the vapours, my girl," Mary said, placing a comforting hand upon Ava's arm, leading her into the reading room and seating her down upon the chaise lounge. "Must be mighty strange, to find family after all these years alone."
Ava nodded, her eyes cast down to her hands which rested in her lap. She did not wish to look up, for fear that Lady Emily might see the tears in her eyes and scorn her sentimentality. Never, in all her life, had she so feared rejection. What she longed to do, was to take her sister in her arms and embrace her in a bone-crushing hug; but society's diktats were deeply ingrained and she dared not reach out and touch her sister, the Lady.
Her ruminations were interrupted by a soft "oofh" as Lady Emily threw herself down beside Ava on the chaise lounge and idly threaded Ava's fingers through her own.
/> "Gemini," her sister said, squeezing her hand with excitement, "I have always wanted a sister and now I have one. Oh, I am so happy we have found each other. Let's never separate again."
Her words warmed Ava's very bones, until a crashing realisation made her sit up straight.
"I leave tomorrow," she said, her fingers still interlaced with those of her twin, "For Kent. I have been offered a position as a governess."
"Oh, fudge and fiddlesticks," Emily replied, her small nose wrinkling in annoyance, "We simply can't let you go. You must stay here, so that we can spend more time together. Though..."
She trailed off, her brow creased in a frown.
"What is it?" Ava prompted, wondering what it was that had made her sister's mood dip so suddenly.
"I am to be married," Emily said, the look of distaste upon her face expressing to Ava just how little her twin relished the thought, "To the most odious of men—"
She broke off, casting Mary, who had clucked disapprovingly at her description of her beau, an aggrieved glare.
"He is odious," she repeated churlishly, "Oh, he walks around as though he has a fire poker up his bottom and he's so cold--like a dead fish. All he wants, is for me to be his broodmare and produce an heir and a spare with pure, aristocratic lineage. He does not love me, nor I him."
"Gosh," Ava wrinkled her own nose at this description. Quite possibly, as Boris had suggested, she had read too many novels and had corrupted her mind with silly notions...but she truly believed that love—real romantic love—existed for everyone. The idea of Emily handing herself away into a loveless marriage with this fish of a man, was too much for Ava to bear.
"Whatever shall we do?" she wondered aloud, only realising after she spoke that unconsciously she had referred to herself and Emily as "we". It felt natural, though they had only known each other a few minutes, to think of she and her sister as being part of a pair.
"I don't know," her sister chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully, "Honestly, I told Papa that I did not wish to marry Kilbride, but he insisted I accept his proposal. The only saving grace is that he allowed me insist on a long engagement, so that the duke and I could be certain of each other before we wed. That's it!"
The Duke's Bride in Disguise (Fairfax Twins Book 1) Page 2
