Page 5 of The Marquess' Disguised Heiress
She must get up as well.
Finally pushing away the cloth from over her body, Eliza sat straight on her rickety excuse of a bed, trying to shake sleep from her eyes.
She had not been able to sleep early last night, having been forced to stay up while Victoria was visiting a friend in a nearby estate for a house party from which she was bound to return late. Only once Victoria returned, and Eliza had made sure she needed nothing, would she be able to fall asleep.
Lara had constantly asked her to go to sleep, for she would see to Victoria, but Eliza could never agree to that proposition, knowing fully well how important Lara’s sleep was for her in old age.
Now that she was no longer a nanny as she had once been for Eliza, she was reduced to being a scullery maid and had to wake up early in the morning as well.
“I will not allow grief to consume me today,” Eliza whispered in the almost empty attic, which was now her bedroom, “I will try to be happy.”
She sat up straighter, preparing for her everyday ritual.
“Dear God, I must thank you for giving me shelter, food, and clothes to wear, even if they are just used clothes that Victoria no longer wants for herself. I must thank you for letting me have my own space and my own bedroom, even if it is in the attic. I must thank you for ensuring I am still with the company of all those who loved me once in this house and are still here to protect me, guide me, and keep me safe from Uncle Edgar and Aunty Beatrice. I must thank you for not filling my heart with bitterness or hatred and keeping my smile intact. Thank you, God. I can’t ask for anything more.”
She opened her eyes, a smile coming to her blush pink lips as she breathed in deeply. She knew how important it was for her to thank God daily, or else her circumstances would have thrown her into a fit of rage.
She could not afford for that to happen.
Not when she had no means to change her circumstances and no desire to leave the house, which belonged to her, even if it had been stolen away.
No. No. I cannot think about that. Not today.
Tears stung her eyes as she stood up, folding her blanket neatly as she remembered the past once more. Uncle Edgar had shifted into the Grafton Manor right after her parents’ death, and everything had gone downhill since.
Eliza had been reduced to the role of a servant in the house, everything that belonged to her snatched away.
Her room, clothes, jewellery, possessions, and everything she held dear were given to Victoria, Uncle Edgar’s daughter and similar in age to Eliza. She had been forced to move into the attic, her identity taken away from her. Despite being of noble blood, she no longer felt like a lady and had made peace with the fact that it was no longer her life.
Her life was this now.
For she was no longer Eliza. Even her name had been taken away from her as Uncle Edgar and Aunty Beatrice began to address her as Beth instead, ensuring her identity was erasedin a way that no one even remembered she existed. That was all Eliza was now. A servant in a house that had once been her very own.
“Oh good God,” she sighed, realizing how late she already was, and quickly fixing her hair without the aid of a looking glass.
Once her light blonde waves were well secured in a braid, which she hoped looked half presentable, she raced downstairs straight towards the kitchen. Just as she had expected, this part of the house was already awake, and all the servants were at work.
“Good morning!” Eliza greeted the cook, Mrs Abouela, loudly, along with the kitchen maids helping her prepare breakfast. She quickly assumed her position in front of a burning stove, beginning to prepare tea and coffee for all the members of the house.
“Mornin’, Eliza,” Amelia greeted her with a kiss on the cheek, and Eliza smiled at her friend.
Eliza loved Amelia like a sister, the two of them growing closer after Amelia had started working at the house. She was the eldest of seven siblings and had a hefty amount of responsibilities over her head. Eliza loved the young woman’s courage, and they immediately became friends due to being closer in age.
However, despite their friendship, Eliza couldn’t help noticing how bitter Amelia was at times, the trauma of having a difficult childhood catching up to her. But Eliza could never hold it against her.
“Morning!”
“Are ye beginning to make the tea?” Amelia asked, and Eliza nodded, returning to work.
To her dismay, everyone preferred having their morning beverage differently, which only meant added work. All the other maids were terrified of getting it wrong, but Eliza had years of practice and knew she could simply not go wrong.
“I will see you later,” Amelia said, walking away, clearly rushing to complete her own set of chores.
Eliza smiled at her before returning her eyes to the kettle.
“Lady Eliza!” Lara’s voice in her ear forced her to turn around as the aged woman came inside the kitchen.
“You must not be calling me that, Lara,” Eliza whispered, hoping the other servants hadn’t heard Lara.
