Chapter Seven

Amelie pokes her head out of the door, and I see William tense as his hand drops to the hilt of his sword.

"Nothing is amiss," she says quickly, and he visibly relaxes, although does not look any happier. "Miss Hawkford would like a cup of tea, and we are unsure of how to request this in our new home."

William actually softens a little. "That is an error on my part," he says. "There is a small bell inside your rooms near the door, pull the string and a servant will come to assist you."

Amelie bobs her head. "Thank you."

As she is closing the door I stop her, determined to make this relationship with the earl of Nothlam right as he is obviously dear to my future husband.

"Sir Nothlam, would you like to join us for a cup of tea?"

His eyebrows shoot up before returning to a blank natural expression. "I cannot. It would impact my current duties."

I try to hide the disappointment from my face at this failed attempt. "Of course," I reply.

"However," he says uncertainly. "Perhaps another time, when Arthur is present."

I smile brilliantly. "I look forward to it."

William grunts a response but says nothing more.

Amelie closes the door and winks at me. "Well, it wasn't a firm no."

I nod. "Life will be very difficult if we cannot find a way to be amicable around one another."

Amelie rings the bell, and we return to the seats around the fire. I lower myself gingerly into the chair and once again feel a sense of relief at the choice to forgo the corset. I have only recently been forced to wear them and I find I hate every minute of it. For quite some time I had gotten away with it until mother had witnessed Jocelyn helping me get dressed one day, about two months ago, and realised I had not adorned one. All of my arguments about how she had only known because she had seen me get dressed seemed to fall on deaf ears and the order was given for me to dress like a proper lady.

Mother had personally laced the corset herself for the first few weeks. My complaints about faintness and stomach issues were met with comments such as, "Beauty has a price," and "We must present our best selves to the public, no matter the cost."

Once Mother believed I had sufficient time to conform, she allowed Jocelyn to undertake the task. Thankfully Joceyln was not as inclined to tighten the corset to the same extremes Mother was.

A small smile crawls on my face as I begin to realize the benefits of moving away from my parents. Could I once more forgo the corset? Only Amelie would be aware of the change, and she seems to skip the crippling device herself. So surely, she would not raise an issue with it.

"What is with the smile?" Amelie asks as she adds another log to the fire.

My smile gets bigger. "I am just realising how much easier it will be to defy my mother from a distance."

Amelie lets out a burst of rich laughter that makes my heart flutter and my smile grow somehow, even bigger.

A soft knock at the door interrupts the moment and Amelie swiftly moves to open it. An older woman, perhaps in her forties stands in the doorway with a smile plastered to her face. In her hands she holds a basket filled with yellow and white flowers.

She bows and her blonde hair falls a little out of the loose bun at the back of her head with the motion. "Someone rang the bell. How can I assist?"

Amelie smiles. "Miss Hawkford would like some black tea and something light to eat." I raise an eyebrow. I hadn't requested food. Amlie eyes the basket and continues, "Is that chamomile?"

The woman bobs her head again. "It was requested by Harold that it be brought to your room."

"Not as a tea?" Amelie asks slowly as she looks at the plants in the basket.

The blonde woman looks down at the basket with alarm written all over her features. "Was it meant to be a tea? Harold mentioned nothing about a tea."

Amelie takes the basket from the panicking woman. "No, it wasn't," she says smoothly. "These flowers will be perfect for bringing life within this space. Miss Hawkford positively loves flowers in her rooms."

I nod, realizing I am meant to play along, even if I have no idea what is happening. I look at the basket and the flowers nestled within it. Amelie had definitely requested tea.

The blonde visibly relaxes. "I can see that flowers are brought up daily if you would like?"

Amelie nods enthusiastically. "I will create a list of Miss Hawkford's favourites, it would be wonderful if you could prioritize those when they are available."

The woman nods again and as she turns to leave, I say, "I would also like to bathe. The day has not been kind to me."

She smiles. "I will have the bath brought to your rooms and the footmen shall fill it for you." She pauses hesitating for a moment. "Would you also like one of the dresses Lord Stacks has prepared for you?"

"That is a wonderful idea," I say ecstatic at the idea of clean clothes. "Would there be anything that would fit Miss Westward?"

The woman scans Amelie. "I believe there might be. There was an error with one of the first dresses made. It was not made to the sizing Mrs Hawkford provided, but it may fit Miss Westward nicely."

"See that it is brought up as well," I say with a smile.

"Would Miss Westward like a bath prepared for her also?" The older woman asks politely.

Amelie smiles. "If it could be prepared in my rooms that would be greatly appreciated. There is no hurry though, I must assist Miss Hawkford with her bath first."

The woman nods her head and as she turns to leave, I interrupt her again, "What is your name?"

She looks at me shocked for a moment before giving me a short curtsy "My name is Rose, Miss Hawkford."

I smile. "Thank you, Rose."

Rose's face breaks into a brilliant smile that makes her look years younger. "It is my pleasure, Miss Hawkford."

As the door closes, Amelie brings the basket over to me. "It is wise to get the servants on side."

I raise my eyebrow. "I was not attempting to get her on my side Amelie." I turn to the fire and watch the flames crackle there. "Just because I was raised gentry does not make me ignorant of the fact that my way of life was provided to me based entirely on who I was born to." I take a deep breath and add, "Rose is still a human and deserves to be treated with respect, even if the circumstances of our birth dictate our lot in life."

Amelie looks at me with such intensity I am pulled to her gaze, and for long moments I stare into her deep blue eyes. Amelie's face is filled with something I cannot quite put my finger on.

"Elizabeth," she says quietly. "You astound me, and I can tell you, that is not a thing that occurs easily."

Tension fills the room as our eye contact continues and I feel a tingling run through me at her words. It would be so easy to fall for her. That last thought shocks me, and I immediately look for a way to avoid thinking too hard about where it came from.

I indicate to the basket of flowers. "You asked for tea," I say in a lame attempt to move the conversation away from the direction of my thoughts.

"I did," she says thoughtfully. "Either Harold is an imbecile, or much smarter than he is given credit for."

"It seems to me that getting the request incorrect may indicate the former," I say slowly.

Amelie nods. "That, or he seen right through the facade and knew what we wished to use the herbs for. The plants in their natural form give me a multitude of ways to prepare them. This way is actually more useful."

I nod as I start to draw the connections Amlie is making. "Would it be possible to request the boy to be our physician?"

"With the way Arthur was looking at you, I doubt he would deny any request you make," she says as she places the flowers in an empty vase with golden lines swirling along the shiny white surface. She retrieves water from the pitcher in the bedroom and adds a healthy amount of liquid to the container.

"Arthur does seem nice," I say offhandedly as I return my attention to the fire, desperate to keep my mind from returning to the memories of her fingers tracing across my ribs.

"You could certainly have done much worse," Amelie says. "Arranged marriages are not usually so kind to the woman."

I nod. "I am grateful I am not marrying someone my father's age."

"There are benefits to such an age gap," Amelie says with a smile. "If you were to marry a man in his fifties, you would only have to endure marriage for a short time before you are widowed."

"Knowing my luck, my parents would just marry me off within weeks of his death to the next best suitor," I say dryly.

Amelie looks at me with pity in her eyes. She opens her mouth but whatever she is about to say is interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Miss Hawkford," Rose's voice calls out the door opens tentatively and Rose peeks around until her eyes land on us sitting by the fire. "I have your tea and the footmen have brought up the bath."

Amelie rises to her feet and leads the footmen lugging a tin bathtub into the adjoining room. I fight to keep my jaw shut as I look at the size of it. I could easily lay comfortably inside it and even submerge my head if I wanted to. Before now, I had only ever bathed in a round bath.

Rose sets down the tea pot, two cups and a large plate laden with fruits, sliced meats, cheeses, bread and a selection of small cakes. "Sorry, Miss Hawkford, this is all the variety we have. Would you like me to have cook prepare something specific for you for future?"

I shake my head which is beginning to settle into a continuous pounding as my headache from earlier demands my attention. "This is plenty," I say. "Amelie and I could not possibly eat it all."

Rose seems delighted by the comment, and I scoop a cake from the plate and hand it to her.

She looks at me hesitantly. "Miss, I shouldn't."

"It would delight me if you did," I say with a smile. "And should any repercussions occur as a result, you are instructed to bring it to my attention immediately."

She beams at me and quickly finishes the small cake, obviously afraid to be caught with it. Another pair of footmen appear in the doorway lugging buckets of water for the tub and Rose hurries off to direct them. Harold appears with a kettle and a basket with bright orange flower heads, vibrant green leaves, rose heads, and a small pinch bowl filled with salt.

He hands the basket to Amelie who raises an eyebrow. "Come over to the fire with me," she says.

Obediently he hands the kettle to Rose and follows Amelie over to the fireplace nearby. "Did your master ask you to send this?"

Harold shakes his head. "No Miss."

"Why did you bring it?" she presses gently.

"The flowers and salts will be good to add to your bath to reduce the inflammation, relax and soothe your muscles," he says timidly, and I realise for the first time he has a very slight accent. I look over the boy's dark features and I wonder how he came to be the assistant of the physician.

"Were you born in England?" Amelie asks gently.

The boy shakes his head. "I am from the Near East." He pauses. "I came here with Mother after Father died."

"You didn't learn this from your master, did you?" Amelie says holding up the basket.

Harold shakes his head. "I learnt it from Mother, back at home my father was a physician and she learned much from him."

"Your thoughtfulness is well received Harold." Amelie says, and the boy scurries off to assist Rose. "I think trying to get the boy to become your physician with his mother as an assistant would be a wise course of action," she says in a low voice as she sits across from me and indicates at the plate of food. "Eat."

Obediently I pick up some grapes and pop them into my mouth, enjoying the crunch and the light sweet flavour as it bursts over my tongue. "I do not like the concoctions the doctor recommended," I say as I decide which fruit to have next.

"If you knew how to kill someone with each of those recommendations as I do, you would like them even less," Amelie says dryly, vigilantly keeping her eyes on the staff working around us.

"You can kill people with medicine?" I ask, astounded.

"I would not call what Mr Wiltson recommended a medicine," she warns. "And you can take a life discreetly with alarmingly small doses of each of those things."

"Have you had to use that particular skill before?" I ask quietly, far too interested in the answer for my own good.

"Yes," she says simply.

Before I get to pry further, Rose returns. "Miss Hawkford, your bath is ready when you wish to use it." She turns to Amelie and adds, "There is a kettle warming by the fire if the bath cools too quickly."

"Thank you Rose," I say rising to my feet.

She smiles. "I will have the dresses brought in for you in a short while."