Queen of my Hart - Emily Royal Page 0,42
the rock beside the lake.
“This is her chamber?” he asked.
“It is, sir.”
“What the devil were you thinking of putting her in here, Mrs. Wells?”
“She insisted,” the housekeeper replied.
“But it’s so damned small!”
“I dare say it’s what she’s been used to most of her life.” The housekeeper gestured to the window. “There’s a fine prospect over the woods and…” she hesitated, “…your wife was anxious about the expense involved in maintaining a full suite of rooms.”
She glanced at him, and he could swear he caught a glimpse of accusation in her eyes.
“I’ve given her no cause to be anxious,” he said, “at least not concerning money.”
“Would you mind if I spoke out of turn?” she asked.
“I daresay you will, whether I mind or not,” he replied.
“Very well,” she said. “That young servant might have deserved her punishment, but your wife has suffered as a result. I’d ask you to treat her with kindness. I know she must learn the ways of a lady, but it’s hard for her. Not only doesn’t she know what’s required, but she also doesn’t understand it, either.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“She was abandoned by her father, hidden away like a dirty secret—then as good as abandoned by her husband. She’s had nobody to teach her how to behave like a lady—nobody to give her any regard, let alone love.”
She folded her arms as if to scold him. Hell—she was scolding him!
“Has my wife been tattling?”
“No,” she said, “but her background is common knowledge hereabouts. Gossip spreads below stairs as well as above it, sir.”
“Where is she now, Mrs. Wells?”
“You’ll find her in the parlor. Do you know the way?”
Yes, he did. Despite only having visited the place once before signing the lease, he’d studied the layout and knew it well.
Unlike his wife.
What the devil was he to do with her?
He found her in the parlor. She sat in a chair by the window, a pair of stockings in her hands, a needle flying in and out. Her brow was furrowed with concentration. She tied a knot in the thread, cut the ends with her teeth, then set the stocking aside and lifted her head to look out of the window. The sunlight caught her hair, forming a soft halo.
He moved forward, and she stiffened.
“The deed is done,” he said.
She rose to her feet and turned to stare at him, her expression unreadable. Then she dipped into a curtsey and moved past him. He caught her sleeve, and she flinched.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To tend to her.”
“It’s not your responsibility.”
She pulled herself free. “It’s my duty to care for her, despite what you say.”
With the housekeeper’s words echoing in his mind, he relented.
“Very well,” he sighed. “I’ll have someone take you to her.”
“I can find my way.”
He stepped aside and let her pass.
***
Meggie pushed the door open and entered the small attic room. Milly lay on her stomach underneath a thin blanket on the bed. She appeared to be asleep but stirred as Meggie sat in the chair beside the bed.
She took Milly’s hand.
“Are you in pain?” she asked.
Milly mumbled incoherently and shook her head. Meggie drew back the blanket. Someone had placed a cloth on her back.
She lifted the cloth. Two red, parallel lines stretched across Milly’s back. They had not cut the skin, but Meggie winced at the sight. No hand brandishing a whip could ever be called gentle, but at least the punishment hadn’t been administered with savagery. The lash marks glistened with a sticky salve, and Meggie wrinkled her nose at the scent of chamomile and lavender.
Someone had tended to her.
A pile of bandages lay on the table beside the bed, together with three vials. Meggie picked up one and read the label.
Laudanum.
Which explained why the maidservant wasn’t crying in pain.
“Milly, I’m so sorry,” Meggie whispered. She stroked the maidservant’s hand. The skin of Milly’s fingers was already thickened with callouses, despite her youth. In her short life, the maid had already done more hard labor than Meggie would ever do.
“You did nothing wrong, ma’am,” Milly whispered. Thin, bony fingers wrapped around Meggie’s wrist. Meggie settled into the chair and stroked the back of Milly’s hand.
“I’m here now,” she said. “I’ll take care of you like I should have done from the moment I arrived.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
The response pricked at Meggie’s conscience. She’d been the cause of Milly’s suffering, yet the maidservant was thanking her.
As the light began to fade, the door opened, and a footman appeared.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but