"Every long separation is a test: A test to see how powerful or how weak the will of reuniting is!"
—Mehmet Murat ildan
VI.
"You two, come with me."
Grace and Ruby were beckoned by a maid dressed all in black, the dress of a lady's maid. Grace did not know her name, but she knew that the woman worked for the duchess.
She was perhaps forty or so, with a stern, no-nonsense air about her, and a hard, cold stare.
The two girls had just finished attending to the opening of the ladies parlour. The furniture had been uncovered and plumped, the fire laid, and every surface dusted twice.
"I am Miss Naismith, maid to Her Grace," the lady's maid introduced herself, leading Grace and Ruby out of the hallway and into the internal staircase with ease and experience. Grace did not recognise her, but then she did not imagine that she would have taken much notice of the duchess' lady's maid when she was a child.
"I am Ruby Trickett," Ruby replied, keeping up with Miss Naismith's quick pace up the stairs.
"Grace Denham," added Grace.
Miss Naismith paused for the briefest of seconds upon hearing Grace's name, before continuing on her path. "You are both to change the duchess' linens, quickly and quietly."
Grace tried to ignore the feeling of dread that bubbled in her stomach at the idea of being in such close proximity to the duchess. Really, she was sure that she had nothing to worry about. Grace was certain that the duchess would have forgotten all about her, not that she ever paid much attention to Grace in the first place. The duchess did not seem like the type of woman who conversed with her housemaids anyway.
They emerged from the internal staircase and out into the once familiar hallway that housed the great bedrooms belonging to the Beresfords. Grace struggled to compose herself as she walked past the pictures of the historical painted faces that once frightened her. They passed window after window, until they came to the very place where ...
... where she had felt love for the very first time. Lord, it seemed a lifetime ago now that she had been running about with Adam. How much had changed.
Miss Naismith opened the door to the duchess' bedroom and led Grace and Ruby inside. Considering the richness of Ashwood House, it ought not to have been a surprise at the grandeur of the duchess' bedroom. But it was.
Central to the far wall was an enormously imposing white bed, with gold detail on the frame. A red velvet canopy hung from the ceiling and draped down around it, the curtains fixed to the posts with a thick, golden rope. The rest of the furnishings were just as rich and luxurious, namely a white marble fireplace with a golden fire poker set. Grace wondered if they were real. Lord, if they were, such an ostentatious item could feed the whole village for a year!
Grace recovered from her amazement quickly and was thankful to see that the duchess was not in her bedroom. She and Ruby quickly set to work in stripping the bed of its linens. They looked and smelled clean, and Grace wondered at the necessity, but she then supposed that rich people could have whatever they wanted.
"I've never been in here before," Ruby whispered to Grace as she pulled the pillows from their slips.
Grace could see that Ruby was just as amazed as she was. Miss Naismith then left them, closing the door behind her.
Together, they folded the duvet and left it on the trunk so that she could remove the sheets from the mattress. The sheets themselves felt divine to the touch, and Grace could not bear to gather them up in a crumpled pile for laundering. She folded them as well, and together with Ruby, they went to make their way out of the bedroom.
But the door was opened again before they could leave, and Grace came face to face with Cecily Beresford. Her hazel eyes were searching, and they settled on Grace almost instantly. Grace's heart stopped. Cecily's eyes flicked to Ruby, and a slight frown creased her forehead.
"Get out," she demanded rudely.
Ruby did not need to be asked twice. She all but ran from the bedroom, leaving Cecily standing between Grace and the door. Cecily pulled gently on the door behind her and it swung close with a slight squeak of the hinges before it latched.
"It can't be little Grace Denham, can it?" she remarked.
Grace hoped the duchess did not mean to refer to her as it. "I am Grace Denham, Your Grace," she said politely, respectfully, curtseying to the duchess as her station deserved.
Lord, whatever happened, Grace could not afford to anger the duchess. She needed her position at Ashwood House. If she was sacked, then her family would certainly starve. Her mother, Claire, Peter and Jem entirely depended on her keeping her job.
"My goodness," remarked Cecily, pursing her lips as she appraised Grace shamelessly, her eyes floating over Grace from the top of her head, to the tips of her toes. "You have grown up."
That tended to happen to children, thought Grace before she chastised herself. "I have," she said instead, as pleasantly as she could manage. "Are you well, Your Grace?" she asked politely.
She duchess responded with a facetious, teasing sort of laugh. "Oh, child, you shall not address me with questions. We are not acquainted," she said mockingly, and Grace clamped her lips shut, feeling embarrassed. "What are you doing in my house?" Her tone changed to one of short temper. She was demanding an answer from Grace.
"I work here," replied Grace, thinking her gown and apron explanation enough.
The duchess' eyes narrowed. "Mind your tongue!" scolded Cecily sharply.
Grace gasped. "Forgive me, I meant no offense," she pleaded, though entirely unsure what for. She needed to remember what her mother had always told her when she was a child. The duchess had never liked her, and Grace needed to endeavour to be as perfectly pleasant as she could muster.
"Why are you working in my house?" asked the duchess firmly.
"I have been a housemaid for five years, Your Grace, ever since my father passed away. My mother recently took a nasty fall and broke her leg. I am here to support my family, Your Grace." She prayed that the duchess could sympathise.
Cecily did seem to sense Grace's sincerity and desperation. Her shoulders, which had been quite tense, relaxed a little and she seemed to click her tongue as she thought. "Well, it seems you have the perfect motivation to be on your best behaviour then," she mused.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I know my son severed all ties with you years ago," said Cecily, so casually it felt like a slap across the face. She seemed pleased when her words made Grace flinch. "But you will have absolutely no reason to speak to Lord Beresford. There will be no repeat of any childish antics. I shall have no reason to dismiss you if you behave just as a housemaid should. You are not to be seen or heard. My son need not even know you are here. Am I quite understood?" The duchess took a step towards her, standing several inches taller than Grace.
Grace nervously nodded, feeling as though she was once again a little girl getting into trouble for running amok with Adam.
"Run along now, and back to work. It seems your dear mama is depending on you," Cecily urged, waving Grace off.
Grace nodded, before quickly darting back to the bed to collect the linens. She quickly curtseyed to the duchess before leaving the bedroom, finding Ruby waiting for her in the hallway. Ruby immediately took some of the laundry to ease Grace's load as she stared at her expectantly.
"Well?" she prompted. "What on earth was that all about?"
"The duchess just had some very specific instructions on how she wants her linens to be pressed," lied Grace quietly.
Ruby scoffed. "Please!" she exclaimed, but Grace was tight-lipped and would not reveal any other information.
As they came to the end of the hallway to where the concealed doorway was situated, they both heard a loud bang as the front door in the entry foyer below burst open. Curiosity got the better of both of them as she quickly peered out to see what the matter was.
A small gasp escaped her lips as she saw Adam stumble inside, looking quite out of breath, sweaty, and searching. Grace jumped away from view, and quickly pulled open the door, ushering Ruby through. "Come on," she urged. "The duchess expects these linens to be cleaned."
The moment they reached the kitchen, a delicious aroma filled Grace's nose. As the servants had spent a good few hours opening the house, their luncheon had been delayed, and it seemed like a hearty soup was to be enjoyed by all. At least, she hoped that the stew was for them and not for the Beresfords.
Her stomach instinctively grumbled. Mr Cole was already seated at the head of the dining table, and many of the servants had begun to gather for their meal.
Mrs Hayes smiled at Grace and then Ruby as she emerged from her sitting room. "You girls go and pop those in the laundry and then come and have something to eat," she instructed, motioning them along.
As Grace and Ruby put the linens down on the large workbench in the laundry, she heard a deep, male voice call to Mrs Hayes in the dining room.
"Miss Hayes ... Mrs Hayes," he corrected himself, and Grace paled. She couldn't be sure he was looking for her, but then she couldn't be sure he wasn't looking for her, either. Whatever Adam's reason for being downstairs, Grace was determined that she would not be seen.
"Go on then," Grace told Ruby. "I'll put these in the water. Won't you save me a seat?"
"Alright." Ruby nodded and skipped out of the laundry.
The minute she was gone, Grace fled the laundry in the opposite direction. Lord, it couldn't be this soon after the duchess' warning, could it? She darted up the back staircase, taking the narrow steps two at a time. Where she was going, she had no idea. Grace heard footsteps behind her. When she looked over the railing to the floor below, she could see Adam starting upwards.
"Grace?" he called out.
Christ!
Her mind immediately filled with memories from her childhood of when Adam would chase her about this house. Only now it wasn't a game. She increased her pace, running all the way up to the third floor where the servants' bedrooms were located. Grace's heart was absolutely thundering, and there was no way that enough air was making its way into her lungs with how shallow her breaths were. Grace sprinted up the hallway, past the bedrooms of the male servants, and eyed the door that separated them from the bedrooms of the female servants.
Sanctuary! She would hide in her bedroom. He would surely not know which it was.
Grace reached for the doorhandle desperately, and her heart stopped when she realised it was locked. She suddenly remembered that it was kept locked, and only Mrs Hayes and Mrs Reynolds had keys to this door.
She spun around, facing back down the hallway, feeling quite like a cornered deer in the woods. She immediately went to the first bedroom on her right, having no idea which servant it belonged to, and hissed under her breath when she found it to be locked as well.
Grace did not have time to try another door. She was no longer alone in the corridor. She had been cornered by a man who was once her very best friend, her sweetheart.
His hazel eyes were fixed on her as his broad shoulders rode and fell quickly as he breathed hard. "Grace," he rasped, with a single shake of his head.