Chapter 13
“Milady, should I enter?”
“Yes, please—” Eloise spoke between stunted breaths, “I need help with the gown. I think it might be far too big of a size for me.”
Fenella rushed inside the bright room as Eloise danced—metaphorically and literally—around the place, struggling to tighten the laces of her gown by herself. She was unsure why, but today, she awoke with the urge to prove to the world that she didn’t need help from anyone. It started from the moment her eyes opened, as a tingling feeling resided deep in her chest.
The dress she had picked out today was unlike anything she’d come across before. The design was untraditional with a large tail and purposeful creases, while the fabric felt velvety against the skin, far more pleasant to wear than the most comfortable dresses. It was maroon in color, perhaps suitable for a widow or a married woman, but Eloise didn’t presume it mattered much; if it belonged in the Castle, then that could mean Simon liked it. Not that it mattered to her.
“Let me help you. It is quite difficult to do by yourself, but indeed, it is lovely.”
“You know, I feel quite energetic today. Would it be possible for us to continue that tour from earlier? I’d love to see the staff quarters,” Eloise said as Fenella tightened the laces of the gown, little by little, “I found it to be a very homely—ow, place back at the estate, and I’d like to meet some of the servants too.”
Fenella nodded. “Of course, Milady, but the staff have been on edge lately, so I do apologize just in case.”
“Aren’t we all.” She tugged at her sleeves a little to allow the dress to flow well. “There. Perfect.” She gleamed at Fenella, who returned the smile.
They exited the bedchamber, soon passing through the hallway outside the dining room, the voices and traffic higher than usual. Servants chattered, paced, and rushed in and out of rooms, some holding elegant decorations, while others carried the most exquisite sets of china as if they were straight out of an antique art gallery.
“Is there some special occasion they’re preparing for, Fenella?” Eloise asked, and Fenella turned to look for herself.
“Oh, apparently so. I don’t know the details, however.”
Eloise accepted the vague response, squinting her eyes to look further down the half-shut dining-room door, though to no avail. There were many people, and so no way she could catch a glimpse of anything material.
Concluding it was likely nothing more than a contrived soirée on Simon’s whim, she continued down a narrower passageway, lined with arrow-slit windows looking out over a cloudy, cotton-like lake. It was only now that she was beginning to understand the full scope of the castle.
The place they eventually arrived at was far different from any of the rooms she had come across. The decorations were modest and humble. Roses and plant vases took up the majority of space, but some foreign paintings—likely family of the servants—took pride of place on the walls. The planked floorboarding held a light but cozy feel to it, and the place smelled…busy.
The constant chatter and commotion, along with the smell of sweat and cooked food, transported her momentarily back to the main streets of London. Though the dining room gushed with people, it was this part of the Castle that truly felt alive.
Fenella continued to stroll ahead, her steps excited yet hesitant all the same and her posture crouched from the nervousness. Something was up today. She turned to look at Eloise, assuring she was still following behind until her figure collided with a tall man, the same man from the dining room during Eloise’s first morning here.
“Fenella, my apologies, are you okay?” he asked, reaching out to her arm to keep her on her feet.
“Oh, Gregory, no, no—I’m the one who’s sorry…I wasn’t looking where I was going. So clumsy today…” she berated herself, fixing her bonnet in place and avoiding his gaze at all costs.
“It’s fine,” Gregory said. Fenella didn’t respond, and a momentary silence flowed between them. “Well…you look lovely today.”
“T-t-thank you. You do as well—look lovely, I mean…”
He chuckled warmly. “I wanted to ask—” his hand met with his styled black hair, messing it up, no doubt in nervousness, “if you’re busy tomorrow night.” His eyes widened, and his stance shriveled the moment he looked over at Eloise, who had a wide grin plastered on her face. “My-my Lady…I don’t mean anything inappropriate! It’s simply a staff meeting.”
“I understand,” was all Eloise said, reassuring him.
“Oh, um, tomorrow night? I do believe so.”
“I’ll see you then, I hope.”
Fenella watched him march away, fixing the wrinkles of her white dress and her cream bonnet, then rubbing her face more times than one could count, attempting to hide the redness of her cheeks.
“He likes you,” Eloise said.
“Milady! He definitely does not…we’re simply friends.”
“And you like him too.” Eloise pressed her hands against her cheeks in awe, “It’s so obvious by the way you both look at each other—and what a gentleman he is. Oh, Fenella, I’m so happy for you.”
Fenella smiled, the rosiness returning. “Follow me, Milady.”