Chapter Two

Amelie shadows me all the way back to my room, where to my surprise, a cot has been set up by the fire. I didn't realise Father had been so literal in his phrasing of Amelie accompanying me everywhere. As I step through the doorway, she brushes past me, and she does a sweep through the room. I watch in amusement as she checks the bedding, the trunks and even the firepan for anything malicious.

"Do you really think someone is a threat to me in my own home?" I am unable to hold back the touch of amusement that laces through my tone.

She flicks her deep, blue eyes at me. "Yes," she says simply.

That puts an immediate dampening on my mood. "What makes you so sure?"

"I have read the letters," Amelie replies as she puts everything back in order.

"What lett—," I snap my mouth shut as Mother bursts through the door seemingly oblivious to the lack of proper etiquette. She hadn't even knocked. If I had entered a room this way, I would have had to endure hours' worth of lectures.

"Elizabeth," Mother says sweeping into the room and completely ignoring Amelie crouching by the fireplace stoking the flames. "I have come to talk to you about your wedding night."

My cheeks heat up immediately. I have read enough literature to understand exactly what my wedding night obligations are, and I have no desire to have this conversation with my overbearing mother.

"Mother," I say quickly attempting to forestall the conversation. "I am aware of my wifely duties."

Mother seems immensely relieved. "Well," she says as she perches on the end of my bed. "Good." She fidgets with her dress and says in a voice so confounding in its gentleness that it stops any words that might have come from my mouth. "It will be," she pauses. "Uncomfortable, but it is our duty to serve our husbands and bear them children."

I frown, nothing in the literature said anything about being uncomfortable. I have read many books on the matter and while the act itself doesn't seem desirable, uncomfortable is not a word I have seen used to describe it. "The last time you used the word uncomfortable Mother, you were in labour with little Henry."

"Yes," she says meeting my eyes. "Giving birth is also, uncomfortable."

I swallow as I push down the memories of Mother's wails as she brought little Henry into the world. "I see."

She nods as she rises to her feet and glides towards the door. Her tone once more takes on the authoritarian and clipped tone I am used to, "Your endurance with the act will improve. It never takes long, a few minutes at most. Goodnight, Elizabeth."

I search for words and finally manage, "Good night, Mother." I squeeze out as sincerely as I can. "Thank you for the talk."

She kisses me briefly on the cheek and whisks out the door. I stare after her for long moments, the terror that had threatened to consume me earlier this evening emerging once more.

"It does not have to hurt," Amelie says as she settles into her cot which creaks alarmingly.

I turn to her, surprised by the comment. "You are married?" I ask.

"No," she says evasively as she slips off her shoes and begins unlacing her corset.

"You have—," I scrabble for words. "Been, indiscreet with a man?"

Amelie lets out a long and hearty laugh. "Oh, heavens no."

I shake my head. "How could you have such knowledge without experience?"

She smiles and moves to unlace my bodice and corset. "Elizabeth, I did not say I was without experience."

She moves away, having completed her task with bewildering speed. I stare at her confused before I decide she must be being obtuse. Only moments later does my brain catch up to the way she had used my name and not the title Miss. I turn back to her and look over the fine dress she settles into a neat trunk I hadn't noticed before. The trunk is full of elegant dresses, equivalent to mine.

"Are you of gentry status?" I ask, glancing over the blonde packing her things away neatly.

"Yes. For generations my family's specialization has been protection. However, when my father had three daughters instead of son's he had to, improvise. It turns out there has been quite a demand for the discrete protection my sisters and I provide."

I raise an eyebrow. "Your father is quite the entrepreneur. I doubt many would have considered such a business decision."

"If there is anything my father excels at, it is finding ways to make money," Amelie remarks dryly. She doesn't say anything more, but I get the sense there is some tension between her and her father.

"So, we are equals?" I ask, my brain racing to catch up with this new information.

Amelie nods. "At least until you are wed and become a lady. On that note, I am happy to perform lady maid duties while being paid for your protection." She pulls an alarming array of small knives from the folds in the dress she had been wearing and places them in another deep green dress. "But you will speak to me like an equal in private and in front of others."

"Of course," I say eyeing the knives. "How on earth do you keep them inside your dress?"

She looks up at me and flicks one of the small knives through her fingers. "These dresses are specially made," is all the answer I receive.

I move about the room, unsure of what to do. Normally, I would spend time reading by the fire. However, all my books have been packed away. I settle into the chair and stare into the flames. Too restless to attempt sleep right now.

"So, it must be exciting to be engaged to an Earl?" Amelie says as she brings me over a glass of wine and settles on the end of her cot with one of her own.

"My opinion on the topic is irrelevant," I say quietly as I stare into the red liquid in my cup.

Amelie stares at me with her deep blue eyes and I try not to think about how I have never seen quite that colour before.

"This is not of your choosing?" She asks as her long fingers caress the glass in her hands.

I shake my head. "Before this evening, I did not even know this man existed. Let alone considered being wed to him." I glance at her, alarmed at how forthright I have just been. "These words are never to be spoken to another."

"They won't," Amelie replies and turns to stare into the fire. "Us women have a hard enough go of it without us turning against one another."

Silence settles between us as we each stare into the flames, lost in our own thoughts. Suddenly a yawn overtakes me, and I rise from the chair. "I will retire. If I know Father, this carriage will arrive at some ungodly hour tomorrow morning."

Amelie rises to collect our cups and places them on the dresser. I watch the woman move about the room as I settle into my bed. She is small and I am still unsure of how she is meant to protect me, but I can see the graceful and sure way she moves about the space. She just seems to exude confidence and that alone, somehow, makes her seem just a little bigger.

I close my eyes and find it surprisingly easy to fall asleep to the sounds of Amelie moving about the room.