VIVIENNE HAD JUST finished eating her supper alone
once again when Mrs. Shrine came it. Although she had
been working at the manor for more than a week now, her
relationship with the rest of the maids had not
progressed. Chrissy ensured that the rest of the servants
didn't speak to her and hence she was always alone
during meals. She didn't want to say anything to the
housekeeper lest it cause more problems but being
excluded hurt more than she cared to admit. She was
doing her best to fit in, but it seemed like nothing was
working. The rest of the servants laughed, gossiped, and
ate together, and she longed for that relationship. For the
twentieth time today, her heart broke as she remembered
Agatha.
She'd been more than a governess to Vivienne and seeing
everyone acting like a family, she longed for one to call
her own.
"Vivienne," Mrs. Shrine called out from the doorway.
There was a hush over the kitchen as the rest of the
servants wondered why the housekeeper was calling her
over. Vivienne slowly got up and made sure to hold her
head high even when she wanted nothing more than to
bury herself in the nearest pillow.
She passed the tittering maids and avoided their gaze.
"Yes Mrs. Shrine?"
"His Grace would like to see you in his study right now."
Vivienne froze. Why did the duke want to see her? Was it
because of their encounter in the library the night before?
Was she going to be dismissed because she had
offended him somehow?
Mistaking her stillness for confusion, Mrs. Shrine placed a
comforting hand onto her shoulder—only it didn't feel like
that. Nausea filled her body as she stood still, hoping that
Mrs. Shrine would drop her hand.
"Come with me, I'll lead the way."
Vivienne almost sighed in relief when Mrs. Shrine dropped
her hand and began walking. She was well aware of the
gazes on her back, but she ignored them and walked
behind the housekeeper. They didn't speak at all until they
arrived at a shut door.
Mrs. Shrine knocked and Vivienne stood behind her
respectfully.
"Come," the duke's deep voice called from inside.
The housekeeper opened the door but stood to the side.
"You won't be joining me?" Vivienne asked her, hopeful
that the housekeeper might be an ally in her conversation
with the duke.
Instead Mrs. Shrine shook her head. "His Grace did not
mention my name. It's best if I stay out here."
Vivienne nodded but her heart sank. She felt as though
she was entering a wolf's den. It was clear that she was
about to be the duke's prey.
When she entered the room, her gaze unconsciously fell
upon the duke. His cravat was undone as he was seated
behind the giant mahogany desk comfortably. His eyes
seemed to be glowing in the dark, but she couldn't quite
put a colour to them. A shiver went up her spine as his
gaze fell upon her. He placed down his quill and
motioned towards the chair in front of him, "Have a seat."
Vivienne took hesitant footsteps and she was aware that
he was watching her every move. Somehow, it was
different than having the servant's glance at her. His gaze
felt more powerful. She gingerly took a seat, not quite
meeting his eyes and instead looking at the corner of the
glossy desk.
When he didn't say anything for a few more minutes, she
grasped the pendant underneath her gown for comfort.
That too, did not go unnoticed by him. His eyes flickered
in the dimly lit room and Vivienne grew more
uncomfortable.
"You wouldn't lie to me, would you Vivienne?"
Vivienne glanced up at him briefly before looking back at
her hands, "No, Your Grace."
There was a pause as the duke leaned back. "That's what
I thought myself. If someone gives you an ounce of
kindness, finds you employment, food and shelter, there
is no way one would lie to their host."
Vivienne's hands began trembling and she ground them
into the folds of her skirt in order to hide them. She didn't
know what the duke was going to say next, but it seemed
that it was going to be a less than pleasant conversation.
"Is there anything you would like to confess to me dear
Vivienne?"
In another circumstance, her heart would have warmed
from hearing the duke call her dear. However, she knew
that right now, he did not mean it as a term of
endearment. He was using it to mock her. Still, she didn't
budge from her position. Unless he told her what she was
being accused of, she would not give away her position.
Vivienne did not want to return to the cold empty
countryside of England.
"I do not believe I have anything to say Your Grace."
Vivienne muttered softly, however in the quite room her
voice seemed to echo.
The duke's voice turned dangerously cold, "Look at me,
Vivienne," he commanded.
Vivienne turned her gaze from her hands to his face. Fury
was etched deep on his visage, and it seemed as though
he was struggling to keep control. She visibly flinched as
he came closer and his eyes blinked as if he just realized
how terrifying he might look. His featured soften an inch—
but it didn't comfort her for even a moment.
"Where was your previous place of employment again?"
The soft tone did nothing to hide the wolf that was ready
to strike.
Vivienne's heart leapt. She very well couldn't say nowhere,
that would be reason enough for her to be dismissed. She
tried remembering the different places Agatha had taught
her but her memory was blank at the moment.
Sighing Vivienne spoke. "This is my first place of
employment Your Grace."
Something akin to approval flickered in the duke's eyes.
"Good, that would explain as to why you've caused such a
ruckus in my household. Now, where did you come
from?"
"A small town called Flaxpool, Your Grace."
She'd been honest enough about the location of the
house her and Agatha had lived in. Vivienne didn't think it
would give anything away, after all, servants came from all
over the countryside.
"Did you reside in Flaxpool with Agatha?"
Vivienne looked at the duke sharply. He had remembered
the name she had given him last night in the library—this
was not good. She nodded in answer.
The duke sighed as if it was the greatest inconvenience of
his time to be asking her such questions, "What made you
flee Flaxpool?"
She hadn't spoken about her terrors, but Vivienne could
be honest to the duke. He had a right to know.
"My town was attacked by men. They burned houses to
the ground, slaughtered the men, and took the women as
prizes." Her eyes welled up with tears at the memory of
her old home in flames. She'd been fortunate enough to
be walking outside the village, so she didn't witness such
atrocities.
Vivienne could still remember walking back to the cottage
her and Agatha shared. It had been ransacked with
Agatha lying on the ground in a helpless form in the
corner. A man with a sword was coming closer to her
when Agatha had seen her. The only words her governess
had formed were 'run.'
And like the coward she was, Vivienne had snuck back
out and ran as fast as she could. "I was fortunate enough
to flee and after many days of travel, stumbled upon this
estate." Vivienne suppressed a sniffle. Something told her
that the duke would not take well to tears.
She also didn't tell the duke the fear and terror she'd
experience before reaching the manor. She did not know
the direction she was heading and was terrified that the
men who'd burnt down Flaxpool were trailing her so she
had avoided all inns and people. Instead, she had spent
time hiding and stealing food wherever she could. Some
days, when she could not find anything and the hunger
was so dire, she'd eaten leaves and berries she could
find, wishing that it would all end.
It had been days before she finally stumbled upon the
duke's manor, her clothes drenched and exhaustion filling
her. She had lain in the stables, finding it a good place for
death. Hope had escaped her, and she knew it was near
time for her to meet her creator. That was until, she was
saved and brought inside the manor.
The duke continued looking at her for a few moments, but
he didn't say anything. Now was the moment in which she
would learn her faith. Would she be removed from the
manor for not telling her story earlier? It wasn't as if
anyone had asked her. Mrs. Shrine had informed her of
her new position as soon as she'd begun to feel better.
They hadn't asked about her previous employment before
either.
"You are safe here, Vivienne." The duke's voice was softer
than she expected but it gave her a feeling of comfort.
"I must ask you; do you know anything about the men
who attacked your village?"
Vivienne shook her head. "No, Your Grace. Everything
happened so quickly."
The duke nodded and Vivienne looked down at her hands
once more surprised to see that they had stopped
shaking. She was growing more comfortable in the duke's
presence.
"I thank you for sharing such a difficult story. I'm satisfied
that you have been able to find a place of employment
here at the manor. I trust that you will strive to do your
best and not partake in thievery?"
The last words were said in a light tone, but Vivienne
heard the current that ran underneath them.
"Yes, Your Grace. I am very thankful for the opportunity. I
will strive to please you."
The duke smiled then, but it didn't hold any warmth.
There was silence for a long time and as the duke opened
his mouth, she believed that she would be dismissed.
Instead, the duke's next few words filled her with dread
she hadn't felt before.
"You wouldn't mind showing me the pendant on your neck
now, would you?"
***
James watched with some satisfaction as the chit's skin
turned a few shades paler. He knew that she thought that
he would let her go any moment, but he was not done. He
was not completely heartless as the gossip columns
made him out to be. He had felt a small itch in his heart
as she'd talked about her burnt home. He imagined if the
same fate met Chalcott manor he would be devastated.
Although all the memories in the manor were far from
glamorous, they still were an important part of him.
His gaze narrowed to her neck where the pendant wasn't
visible, but he could see the faint outline. He had also
seen her grasping at it when she first came in, confirming
that she was hiding something underneath the cloth.
Slowly, Vivienne tugged on the chain that held it together
and brought the pendent forward. It caught one of the
lights and glimmered a sparkling green colour. James
stood up and made his way in front of his desk.
"May I?" he asked, as his hands moved towards the
pendent.
When Vivienne nodded, James gently lifted the pendent
to observe it in the light. The orb itself was suspended in
an oval plate and seemed even shinier. He knew at once
that his housekeeper had been right. This was the kind of
jewelry fine ladies wore to balls and here it was, on the
neck of his maid.
He let go of the pendent and it swung gently back to
settle between Vivienne's breasts.
"Did you steal that?"
Vivienne didn't let go of his gaze. Good, James thought.
She was getting much braver—it would be easier for him
to pry out the answers he needed. She took a moment
before answering, "No Your Grace."
"Then how," James leaned back on the desk, "is
something of that value in your possession?"
She was silent, not answering and James knew she was
thinking of the best way to navigate out of his trap.
"It was a gift from my father," she finally confessed.
James' heart thumped widely against his chest. He was
getting closer to getting his answer. It was very possible
that this was the missing daughter of the Earl of
Westmoreland. He just needed to push her a bit more.
"Was your father a lord?"
Vivienne gasped and moved backed further into her chair.
"How did you know?"
James ignored her question and pressed on. "What was
your father's title?"
Her eyes dulled a bit at his question. "That I do not know.
My oldest memory of him placing me in Agatha's care
and saying that he would return soon from America."
James raised an eyebrow, "And you never asked your
governess questions?"
"Of course, I did Your Grace! However, every time I did,
she would shut down and refused to answer. I stopped
after a couple of years when I knew my father would not
be returning. It served no purpose to agitate my guardian."
James watched her; she had not argued when he said
Agatha was her governess. His hunch had been right. She
had been taking care of a Lord's daughter and teaching
her the ways of society. Since her father did not return, it
was entirely probable that his ship catapulted on the
journey to America. The only piece of the puzzle that
didn't fit was the name. If she was Lady Selina, was
Vivienne a false name?
"Is Vivienne truly your name?"
Vivienne looked quite surprised by that, "Yes, Your Grace."
James turned around to pour himself some brandy. He
didn't offer any to Vivienne, merely taking a rather large
sip before setting the glass back onto his desk. He was
well aware that her gaze was following him, but she didn't
say anything. He needed more evidence from the Bow
Street Runner he hired before making his next move.
Sighing, James rubbed his temples and asked why he
bothered to even question Vivienne in the first place. It
now presented a greater trouble since he knew that she
was a lady. He had a greater duty to her before then he
ever did when she was a servant.
"Return back to your chambers and do not speak to
anyone about what we discussed in this room."
Vivienne merely stood up and curtsy. James watched the
movement; it truly was a thing of perfection. A curtsy fit
for the wallflowers of London. He was surprised he had
not noticed it before.
"We shall discuss different arrangements tomorrow," he
said to her back.
She just gave him another nod before shutting the door.
James leaned back into his chair and took another sip of
the brandy. He didn't want to be too inhibited to plan his
next move. Pulling out a sheet of paper, he wrote down
everything that needed to be done. There were many
letters that needed to be sent—starting with the invitation
of his great-aunt Esme to Chalcott manor. Sighing, James
worked deep into the night to clear a path in the mess
he'd created.