Page 29 of A Marquess' Season of Secrets
“My very presence seems to upset Lady Stratford,” Juliana replied. “I think it wise if I keep away from her as much as one can.”
The duke had summoned Juliana after dinner one evening and suggested she be called Isabella until she could recall her own name. Lady Stratford had immediately protested, calling Juliana an undeserving wench who could not have their grandmother’s name.
Kitty shook her head. “I cannot understand her behaviour towards you. You have been here for nearly a month, and still, she takes offence. It seems your only crime was to be rescued by her brother.”
“Perhaps she is appalled that her highborn brother carried a filthy commoner into their house and laid her on a guest bed,” said Juliana. “She must believe I am taking advantage of the duke.”
“But how can she come to such a conclusion? You left the guest room before the duke ordered it so, and you have worked for your pay. ’Tis not your fault that you were rescued by him.”
Juliana shrugged. “I can only speculate, Kitty. I truly do not know how I have offended our lady, but I would rather keep my distance where possible.”
Which was precisely what Juliana had been doing for some time. Moreover, she had done everything within her capabilities to please the housekeeper, valet, and butler, but they remained cold towards her. The only person Juliana had found herself searching for and looking forward to seeing was the duke.
After much thought and consideration, it was decided that Kitty would refrain from calling her Isabella in Lady Stratford’s presence unless her brother was also in the room. Only then was it permissible. Their early morning discussion would not have been necessary if the duke’s sister had not soundly reprimanded Mary, a fellow housemaid, for calling Juliana by the seemingly sacred name late yesterday evening.
I highly doubt she would have done such a thing if her brother had been with her. I have noticed how she looks to her brother for validation no matter what the topic may be.Lady Stratford certainly appears to be the one who controls the household upon first glance, but nothing functions without the duke’s stamp of approval.
The man wielded power without lording it above anyone, an admirable trait in someone of his stature. People obeyed him because they wanted to, not because they had to.
Once they had given each other a look-over to ensure they were presentable and immaculate, Kitty and Juliana made their way to the kitchen, where they ate a hasty meal. Kitty understood that Juliana didn’t like to sit too long with the other servants for fear of judgement.
After all, she was the commoner who the master had brought home, put in the guest room reserved for worthy people, and waited on while she recovered. It didn’t matter that she was working hard, had left the guest room, and moved to share a room with Kitty in the attic.
Fortunately, not all the servants seemed to feel the same way, but there were enough to make her uncomfortable.
With their modest repast eaten, Juliana and Kitty headed to the east wing parlour. Lady Stratford tended to spend her mornings in the room and later moved to the west wing parlour around noonday.
“I’ll open the windows and take down the drapes while you cover the furniture and sweep the carpet,” Kitty said, pulling a sturdy chair to the window.
“Would it not be safer if I held the chair while you stood on it? I would not want you to fall.”
Kitty grinned. “These sturdy legs are my best tools. Not even the strongest winds could topple me over. I’ll help you dust the room once I’ve taken these down, and we’ll both put up the news ones once the room is clean. No use replacing them with all the dust flying about.”
Juliana let the matter be, but she kept a watchful eye on her friend as she covered the furniture and used a soft-haired broom and tea leaves to sweep the carpet.
She had to pause briefly to blow cool air on her blistered hands. Since taking on heavier tasks, Juliana’s hands had developed painful red blisters that she preferred to hide away from inquisitive eyes. Only Kitty knew about them and helped her apply a salve every night to help heal them.
“Are they throbbing?” she heard the maid ask.
Juliana repositioned her hands on the broom and smiled. “Not too much, thank you. The salve has worked wonders.”
“You would not be lying to me, would you?” Kitty asked, her eyes narrowed.
“You should be concentrating on the drapes. You still have one more set to remove, and time is ticking away without a care for our problems.”
“I would say we have enough time at the rate we gobbled down our meal this morning,” Kitty argued. “Why not rest awhile? Or perhaps do something that will not require much use of your palms.”
Juliana’s palms were the least of her worries. She regularly suffered headaches and often had to stop working when her left side protested the exertion. She surmised that she must have fallen from a height and landed on her left-hand side, but Juliana still had no memory of the accident to explain her injuries.
“I will not have you take on all the work,” Juliana insisted. “I merely needed a moment, but now I feel just fine. See?”
Juliana got to sweeping, trying with all her might to ignore her burning, stinging palms. Kitty eventually sighed and returned to the drapes, allowing the last one to fall to the floor.
Lady Stratford had ordered the damask drapes to be taken down and replaced with the silk drapes she had purchased in London. The names Westminster and Oxford Street seemed familiar to Juliana, but she couldn’t recall why and relied on Kitty’s knowledge to fill in the blank spaces in her mind.
It was impossible to tell what Juliana should or shouldn’t know when she had no memory of the most vital parts of her life, which bothered her. She had a life somewhere, but it might as well have never existed for all the good it did her.
Were people looking for her? Did she have a family, and was she married? These were a few of the many questions that plagued her mind from the time she rose for the day to when her head touched her lumpy pillow.
