Page 55 of Cinderella's Charade With the Duke
Fat tears streamed down Hattie’s cheeks, but she said nothing. She was frozen, locked in her grief as she had been as a child. She didn’t know how to reach out and ask for help. She kept her silence long after the sound of Mrs Chisholm’s footsteps disappeared. She hadn’t felt such sadness since her mother passed and she didn’t know how to weather it without Trudy and Ophelia. She had never faced such grief and hurt without them.
But what would they say when she returned with her tail between her legs, broken and shattered as Trudy had warned? Hattie scoffed and chuckled as she wiped her eyes. They would envelop her in the warmest of hugs. That was what they would do. Chastise her later, perhaps, but never would they berate her when she was down. They would help her grieve and she would recover as she had after every disappointment and setback before.
‘It’s their loss that they did not choose us.’
Trudy’s words echoed in Hattie’s ears and she smiled, if only for a moment.
Trudy always said that when the wealthy families came to scrutinise them before passing them over for a younger child with a ‘less ambiguous’ birth.
‘She’s right,’ Ophelia would agree, playing with her long curls. ‘We are pretty enough. There is nothing we can do about how we came to be in this world. At least we have one another.’
Hattie sniffed. William’s rejection was the same, was it not? The icy truth of it pained her more than she wished to admit. He didn’t know of hertrulylowly birth as she had fibbed to him about having a titled regal father who had claimed her before he died. That was a lie crafted to keep her pretend designation as Lady Penelope intact. And even with that he had rejected her. What would he have done when he discovered she was the bastard daughter of a man she did not even know? That she was a product of a mistress and clandestine affair like he abhorred his wife for having.
Perhaps this was the end that was always coming. The one she’d ignored for too long. There was no hiding from her past…at least not for long.
Sisters for ever, tears never.
It echoed through her mind as Hattie wiped her tears. It was what they always said to one another after the families left and they realised their fate as orphans would continue…at least until another visiting weekend. Hattie took a slow steadying breath and then another before pulling back her shoulders and pushing herself up to standing.
‘Sisters for ever, tears never,’ she said quietly. Then she took in a breath, released it and said it aloud once more.
She blew her nose in a handkerchief and tucked it back in her dress pocket. She stared down at the dark-brown dress that had somehow helped stir William’s memories of her. Would he have remembered if she hadn’t been wearing this and been out at the lake?
Did it matter?
He would have remembered, or she would have been plagued with guilt and the need to tell him eventually. She had onlyhurried along the inevitable. All because she had not wished to soil the hem of one of the beautiful day dresses he’d had made for her.
She sighed, set aside her sadness, and searched her room for her portmanteau and small travelling trunk. She pulled them from beneath the wardrobe and began packing. It took far less time than she expected as she would take nothing except what she arrived with. Well, almost nothing. She gathered up the drawings little Millie had made for her to help her decorate her chambers. Those Hattie would claim as her own. And she would keep the fine ruby heart pendant as a memory of their love. But the fancy dresses, hats and reticules she would leave. Even the crisp pristine gloves she would not take. She would rather leave with her worn, but clean ones than take anything William had purchased for her role as Lady Penelope.
Lady Penelope Denning.
Hattie’s fingers skimmed the fine silk and crepe dresses. The luxurious colours, fabrics and cuts were delicious to see together all at once like a fine bouquet of hothouse flowers. Dressing up as Lady Penelope, wearing fine jewels and having herself coiffed to perfection had been glorious. But it was also fanciful make believe and there was nothing real about it.
She’d known it would end, no matter how much she’d hoped it wouldn’t. The truth was inescapable, as she well knew. Her hand fell away and she closed the wardrobe, sealing everything that ever was Lady Penelope within it.
‘Goodbye, Lady Penelope Denning.’
Lady Penelope Denning would disappear as soon as Hattie stepped into the carriage to leave Blithe Manor behind. In some ways, Hattie would miss her. Her confidence, certainty and slight tilt of her chin.
The carriage.
Blast.
Hattie groaned. She would have to ask for use of the carriage to reach the station to get home to Stow. She had more than enough money for her return, but no way to reach the station. It was an indignity she would have to suffer to return home to Stow.Best get on with it. She emerged from her chambers and quietly descended the stairs. The sound of raised voices stopped her cold in her steps before she reached the landing.
‘Why would you be in on this scheme as well? I trusted you. I trusted you all.’ William’s tone was harsh, but rang of another emotion as well: hurt. She almost felt sorry for him.
But not quite. She harboured her own hurt caused by his words.
‘Because the Doctor told us it was best for you and your recovery, Your Grace,’ Mrs Chisholm answered firmly. ‘Lady Buchanan was in agreement. We all were.’ If there was a woman who could hold her ground against him, even if he was her employer, it was Mrs Chisholm. Hattie almost smiled.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Hattie continued down the stairs and stood at the doorway of William’s study where he stood in front of several of his staff, people Hattie had come to treasure and love because they had accepted her for who she was and it had felt like a home despite it all.
‘It was you who created this scheme, Your Grace. You cannot be angry about the outcome of it all,’ said Hattie. To her surprise, her voice was clear and carried through the air without a tremble, despite how her heart pounded in her chest.
His body stiffened and he faced her. ‘How dare you,’ he began, his gaze cutting through her as if she were nothing, a mere whisper of what she knew she’d meant to him but hours ago.
‘How dareyou,’ she countered before she even thought about the words. It was as if Penelope Denning was rising in her and refusing to be cut down in such a way. She approached him.
