Page 19 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
Hadn’t they all?
Hattie smiled as she ran her fingertip over the lopsided pale-purple beads. They had saved for weeks to purchase them from the milliner’s shop years ago. Hattie’s wish had never changed: she wanted independence and the safety that regular work provided. Securing steady work like she had now was her dream as it would allow her a sense of safety she had never had and she could support Ophelia and Trudy, too, if all continued to go well. They were her family. She would do anything for them.
Her chest tightened. Just as His Grace would do anything for his daughter.
While his request appeared absurd to her, part of Hattie understood where it had been born from: love mixed with desperation. She had felt that way before many times. To know a duke with all his wealth and standing would share such a feeling and experience with someone like her was a revelation and a surprise. She never would have expected His Grace to suffer from the same problem. Wealth had always seemed like a solution and an escape from where she had been as a child, but perhaps she had been all wrong. Perhaps wealth could not fix all that was broken.
She completed her ablutions and dressed for bed, still mulling over the events of the day. Her body and shoulder ached and Mrs Chisholm came in with a steaming draught with a powder to help her sleep. She lingered nearby.
‘Do you have need of anything else, Miss Potts?’ Mrs Chisholm asked.
Hattie fidgeted with her hands. If anyone knew of what His Grace had proposed to her, it was his housekeeper. Did she dare?
‘Advice?’ Hattie said, hesitating a moment before continuing. ‘I am confused and I have no one to counsel me here.’
Mrs Simmons smiled sympathetically. ‘Is this about your conversation with His Grace?’ she asked.
Hattie sighed in relief, knowing she didn’t have to break any confidence by speaking with her. ‘Yes. And I want to help His Grace and Lady Millie, but I…’ She paused. ‘I cannot imagine anyone would believe me to be a lady of breeding. Look at me.’ Relief over sharing her insecurity and fear freed her, if only for a moment. She plopped down on the edge of her bed.
Mrs Chisholm watched her. ‘May I?’ she asked, gesturing to the bed.
Hattie patted the space next to her and wiped a tear from her cheek. The day had been simply too much.
‘I believe you could, Miss Potts. You are a handsome woman. You just lack the confidence, if I may say so.’ She patted Hattie’s hand and Hattie’s heart skipped in her chest. No one other than Ophelia and Trudy had ever thought her pretty. Her cheeks warmed.
‘But it is also a great deal to ask of anyone and, if I am honest, I was surprised he asked it of you. It is a compliment to you. He must trust you. His Grace has difficulty asking for help.’
‘Really?’ Hattie asked. ‘Why?’
‘He didn’t always have such difficulties, but when his older brother died ten years ago, he changed. Hardened. I think he was angry about losing him.’
‘How did he die?’
‘Carriage accident. Then, when his wife died in a carriage accident in a…similar fashion…just last year…it was difficult for him. Such a loss seemed to bring it all up again. He closed up, isolated himself in London and then here after his father passed.’
‘So much loss,’ Hattie murmured, her heart swelling with compassion.
‘Too much. But he has been lighter since you arrived,’ Mrs Chisholm added with a smile. ‘You have made Lady Millie happy, which in turn has made him happy as well.’
Her cheeks burned hotter under her praise. ‘Thank you.’
‘So, whatever you decide, you have a post here as governess, I know that much. He told me so.’ She winked at Hattie and clutched her hands, and the warm, soft feel of them over her own made her think of her mother. A lump filled her throat and her eyes welled again.
‘Have a sleep on it,’ she said, squeezing Hattie’s hands before releasing them. ‘Your heart will know the right decision in the morning. It works for me every time.’
‘Thank you for the advice, Mrs Chisholm,’ Hattie replied, wiping a tear from her cheek. ‘I will do that.’
The older woman rose. ‘And be sure to take your tonic. It will ease some of the ache and help you sleep.’ She glanced at Hattie’s shoulder.
‘I will. Thank you.’
After the door closed quietly, Hattie pulled back the covers and crawled into bed. The cool sheets and soft mattress enveloped her and she sighed aloud. She propped herself up with the numerous pillows, sipped on her tonic and opened to the first page of the story ‘Cinderella’. Soon the words were blurry and she submitted to her body’s need for sleep.
Hattie knocked on the door to His Grace’s study the next morning, her pulse hammering in her throat. She had awoken early, ready to speak with him and she could wait no longer.
‘Enter,’ His Grace replied.
Hattie opened the door slowly and it squeaked on its hinges.
