Page 10 of A Baron's Disguised Lady
As the months had gone by, Archie had become more and more convinced as to the true nature of what had befallen his sister. He simply could not believe she had succumbed to a fever, and he was convinced something wicked had occurred to snatch her away from him.
But what? Surely she’d have said something, if someone wanted to harm her,he told himself, thinking through the same thoughts he had thought a thousand times since the day of Gwendolene’s death.
None of it made sense, and Archie was desperate to find an answer—theanswer—as to why his sister had died. He had been making notes, writing down anything he believed could be relevant to an investigation. He would sit for hours in his study, thinking over the events leading up to Gwendolene’s death, searching for something… anything, he might have missed.
“The fever taking hold of her… it was all so sudden. And there was nothing the doctor could do. But why her? Why not the rest of us? Why was it only Gwendolene who succumbed?”he asked himself aloud, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.
He wanted answers, but the more he thought it through, the more confusing it became. Every thought, every possibility, led to nothing. Archie was at a loss, and looking down at the piles of notes on his desk, he felt nothing but a complete and utter failure.
***
“I can do that,” Lavinia said, as Daisy turned down the bed and smoothed out the blankets.
Daisy looked at her in surprise.
“Miss Stuart?” she said, and Lavinia smiled.
“Oh, it’s all right, you can call me Lavinia, if you like. I’m still not used to being called Miss Stuart. I was a maid, too, you see,” Lavinia replied, and Daisy looked at her in surprise.
“You were… a maid, Miss Stuart,” she said, clearly not having grasped what Lavinia was saying.
“That’s right, yes. For several years. My parents weren’t well off, and I entered service as soon as I could. It’s a long story. But my grandfather found us—my mother and I. Oh, but don’t let me keep you from your duties. I’ll see to everything here,” Lavinia said, as she began to unpack the bags a footman had brought up with her.
“Oh, but… thesearemy duties, Miss Stuart,” Daisy said, and Lavinia checked herself, reminding herself yet again of her grandfather’s words.
But despite knowing she should let the maid do what the maid was supposed to do, she also felt the need to do so herself. Lavinia did not want to become dependent on others, or so unaccustomed to doing anything for herself as to be quite inept at doing anything at all. She liked unpacking clothes, and turning down beds, and polishing brass. It kept her busy.
But in a strange house, and without any real company to speak of—she had already decided the baron must think her an absolute and utter fool—she felt as though time would pass rather slowly if she did not find something to occupy herself with.
“Yes, I’m sorry, Daisy. I should let you do what you need to do. But you mustn’t treat me with lots of airs and graces. I’m still getting used to it, you see. I quite forgot what my mother said to me about addressing the duke,” Lavinia said.
The maid looked at her with a confused expression.
“The duke, Miss Stuart?” she asked, and Lavinia sighed.
“I mean the baron… His Grace. No, he’s not a grace, is he? He’s a lord, a sir… yes, My Lord,” she said, taking a deep breath.
“His Lordship won’t mind, Miss Stuart. He’s a good man, and very fair employer to me and my mother. I wouldn’t hear a word against him,” Daisy said, as she now began unpacking Lavinia’s clothes.
Lavinia was curious to know more about the baron, and knowing it was servants who always knew far more about the household than those above stairs, she asked Daisy to tell her more about the sad circumstances surrounding life at Sarum Lacy House.
“His sister died, didn’t she?” Lavinia said, and Daisy shook her head sadly.
“What a terrible day that was. I wept for a week. She was such a gentle creature—Miss Gwendolene, her Ladyship, but she always wanted to be called Miss Gwendolene. She was so kind. She always had time for you. I used to dress her. We had such fun,” Daisy said, with a wistful look in her eyes.
“How did she die?” Lavinia asked, for it seemed strange to think a young woman, in the prime of life, should simply die without warning.
Daisy shook her head.
“A fever. That’s all we ever knew. It was a strange business, that’s for certain. She fell ill just before Christmas last year. They say a green January makes for a full churchyard. But it was a bitter winter here, Miss Stuart.
We were cut off by the snow for weeks. And poor Miss Gwendolene faded like the last of the summer flowers. His Lordship was devastated. I felt so sorry for him. I’ve heard him weeping at times. He loved his sister dearly, truly, he did,” Daisy said.
Lavinia felt terribly sorry for the baron. She remembered her sorrow at the loss of her father, whose death had been the reason why her grandfather had sought them out. He, too, had died of a fever, though neither Lavinia nor her mother had known the cause. He had simply fallen ill and died with the two of them at his side some weeks later.
She missed him, but the two of them had never been close, and after she had entered service, it was her mother who had maintained contact, visiting her on her day off and writing to her twice a week. Her father had become a distant figure, and whileshe had mourned him, his loss had been something she had grown used to with the passing of time.
“How terrible,” Lavinia said, shaking her head.
