Amelie's fingers trembled slightly as they traced the embossed seal on the letter, a tangible testament to the duke's decree. The creamy parchment crinkled under her touch, its weight significant in her palm. Her eyes, often reflective pools of empathy, narrowed with focus as she absorbed each word of the announcement. Adrian Thernna von Naria and Wartenburg. The name resonated within the chamber's hallowed silence, a declaration etched into history and now held within her grasp.
She pondered the duke's prompt execution after their discussion, the ink still fresh, the words resolute. Their discussion had been a delicate dance around societal expectations and the unspoken rules, teetering on the abyss of propriety. It seemed the duke had listened, truly listened, and Amelie couldn't suppress the swell of gratification that rose within her. There was movement in the staleness that had once clung to the halls of the manor, a shift that breathed life into corners long untouched by joy.
The door creaked open, and Anna entered, her countenance a mixture of incredulity and relief. "He has done it then?" Her voice was a soft murmur, yet it carried the weight of shared secrets.
"Indeed," Amelie replied, allowing the letter to float gently upon the polished mahogany desk beside her. "To every noble house."
Anna's eyebrows hitched upward as she clasped her hands in front of her apron, the starched fabric a stark contrast to her warm gaze. "I'd scarce believe it, if not for the proof right before my eyes. Master Adrian is fortunate to have you."
"Fortunate or not, as you thaught me, it is my duty." Amelie's response was infused with warmth, her gentle resolve never faltering despite the fatigue that tugged at the edges of her being.
Yet, the duke remained ensconced within his quarters during daylight, Anna thought to herself. But at least he was venturing out beneath the cover of night, but all alone?
Anna's concern was evident. The thought of the duke wandering the grounds without accompaniment was unsettling. It was unusual for a man of his station. But if it brings him solace, who are we to judge?
Anna stepped closer, her expression softening. "You've shown great dedication, Amelie. As a wet nurse and more. Keep strong; your care does not go unnoticed."
"Thank you, Anna." Amelie's gratitude was sincere, her voice imbued with appreciation for the Anna's unwavering support.
"The duke has found some peace, it seems,"Anna's words tumbled out in a moment of vulnerability, shattering the stillness. Her eyes lingered on the peaceful child before finding Amelie's gaze again.
Perhaps," Amelie nodded with a hint of doubt. But he remains but a specter, trapped within these walls until the sun rises. She mused silently to herself. Whispers had circulated that he roamed the halls at night, solitary and brooding. The servants had exchanged wary glances, unspoken words passing between them.
"Even those of noble blood are not immune to the whispers of the night," Amelie countered softly, understanding more than she let on.
"True," Anna conceded, studying Amelie with a newfound respect for her unexpected wittiness.
"Rest well," Anna said, offering one final nod before turning on her heel and slipping from the room, leaving Amelie alone with her thoughts and the slumbering heir.
Amelie's fingers trembled ever so slightly as she reached out to the ornately carved crib, her touch gentle upon the fine lace that draped over its edge. The room was steeped in a silence that spoke of wealth and heritage, the soft glow of candlelight casting dancing shadows upon walls laden with tapestries that told tales of valor and chivalry. She leaned forward, peering down at the infant nestled within, swaddled in linens white as snow and just as pure.
"Hello little Adrian," she whispered, her voice a tender lilt that harmonized with the distant echo of a harpsichord from some faraway chamber. "What a beautiful name."
The child, named for nobility and legacy, remained undisturbed by dreams unknown, his tiny chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of sleep. Amelie's heart swelled with an emotion akin to pride. It wasn't hers to claim, this bundle of innocence with a future already etched in gold, but in these quiet moments, there was a bond, invisible yet potent, woven through shared whispers and lullabies in the dead of night.
Her gaze shifted downward, drawn to the subtle swell of her own abdomen, where another life stirred. A hand came to rest upon the fabric of her gown, tracing the contours of a secret not yet ready to bloom into the world. Her thoughts fluttered like the wings of a caged bird, pondering a name for the soul that grew within her—the question lingering like a delicate fragrance in the air.
How would she name her child?
She hadn't thought about it yet, entangled as she was in the duties of the day and the mysteries of the night. The weight of her responsibilities settled around her shoulders like the shawl she'd left draped over the back of a nearby chair—a reminder of the warmth needed when the chill of uncertainty crept too close.
Amelie caressed her belly, feeling the strain around her arms as the sleeves of her dress pulled taut. Maggy had helped her get dressed as always, a daily ritual that had become increasingly challenging with each week that passed. They had even had to loosen her undergarments, accommodating the gentle expansion of life. The fabric of her biggest gown, which had once glided over her form with ease, now clung to her curves, whispering secrets of change with every movement.
"Will you be named for the stars, my child?" Amelie mused aloud, though her words were meant for no ears but her own and those of the babe who could not yet hear them. "Or perhaps for the earth from which we all draw strength, like your mother?"
In the stillness of the chamber, surrounded by the opulence of the Duke's estate, Amelie allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. Here, amidst the grandeur reminiscent of scenes painted in vivid hues on the pages of romance novels, she stood—a woman of modest birth, entrusted with the care of nobility, yet facing a future as uncertain as any maiden in a tale of old.
"May you be strong, brave, and kind," she murmured to her unborn child, her voice imbued with all the tenderness and hope of a mother's love. "And may your name befit the grand adventure that is your life."
Her fingertips lingered on the fabric, the softness reminding her of the last gentle embrace of her mother, of home. At one time, such opulence had been unattainable to her. Now, it appeared mundane compared to the grandeur of her new surroundings.
With care, she stepped away from the crib, "Adrian Thernna von Naria and Wartenburg," she repeated softly, letting the name roll off her tongue like a promise, like a prayer for both the children who knew nothing of the intricacies and trials of the world they had entered.
"May your paths be blessed, little ones," she added, her voice barely above a sigh, a solitary figure framed by elegance and refinement, yet grounded in the love and sacrifice that transcended the boundaries of rank and birthright.
With the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow through the windows, Amelie straightened her posture, her resolve fortified. Though the fabric of her gown strained, though the path ahead was shrouded in mystery, she carried within her the unyielding spirit of her family, the determination of a woman who had faced adversity and emerged steadfast.
"Until we meet, my sweet," she said, her words a silent vow to the child she had yet to hold.