The Sullen Seamstress of Horenwall Manor: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  Mindful of Jane who had nearly vanished into a corner and who was trying to not garner the attention of the three women, Rosaline took the brunt of their focus. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

  “No,” Miss Fawcett said imperiously, “well, not at this time, anyway. Carry on.”

  Rosaline blinked. The lady was acting like she was already made Duchess and her disdain was so finely tuned that it would be unnoticeable by others who were not used to being put down. But Rosaline did.

  “Well then, thank you for coming,” she added, “we hope to give you much more soon.”

  “Please,” the Duchess interrupted, “do not rush it, Miss Hall. Take the time to make everything as perfect as they can be.”

  Something resembling panic ran over Miss Fawcett’s face so quickly that if Rosaline had blinked, she would not have seen it. The lady’s eyes had gone wide and her nostrils had flared. It was gone soon though and Rosaline dismissed it.

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Rosaline replied. She was going to add that even with her and Miss Moore’s quickened pace, all items would be perfect, however, she was not going to talk back to a Duchess.

  “I think the carriage is waiting for us, Your Grace,” Lady Ogbent said while turning away, “Good day, Miss Hall and Miss Moore.”

  The Duchess inclined her head while Miss Fawcett only turned and flounced away. Sighing out a breath of relief, Rosaline smiled to the still Jane. “Where were we?”

  I am warned to stay away from you ...I cannot be near you, Your Grace, for your safety and mine.

  The Duke knew exactly where that order had come from. His mother, though generous and who exercised democracy, was known to keep the lines of servitude bright and broad.

  He had to speak to her, but he did not want to do it in anger. In the last two days, he had realized, there was more than friendship that he wanted from Miss Hall. The burning urge to kiss her had been one, but the face as the centerpiece of his dreams had been the second.

  He had to get that order revoked. Being around her, the few times he had, had felt like he was breathing in fresh air or drinking sweet water. She was refreshing to him.

  “Mother,” Norman said as he knocked. “May I speak to you?”

  “Oh, Norman, come in, come in, please,” the Duchess waved him in, “I need your input.”

  With the plan to ask his mother to rescind the order suddenly shelved, Norman sat beside her and frowned. Why was he looking at cloth swatches?

  Taking up a lilac swatch, Norman inquired, “What is this?”

  “I am trying to decide on the theme for the masquerade ball in the coming week,” the lady said while sifting through the colors, “I am leaning to deep royal colors, like purple and blue. What do you think?”

  “Mother…” Norman said while putting the cloth away, “You must know that I am useless when it comes to choosing colors. Why are you putting this ball on?”

  The Duchess placed a hand on the book in her lap and looked at him with her placid eyes, “I was speaking to Lord Ogbent the other day and he mentioned the occasion when Miss Fawcett first saw you. It would be a little nostalgic, no?”

  “Curious, he mentioned it to me too,” Norman mused, “But that is not why I am here. Mother, I understand that you are concerned for me but I can handle my own affairs. Miss Hall is not an issue for me and I cannot see how it can be for you. Release her from your order, for she will not accept it from me.”

  Typically, there was no visible reaction from his mother, but Norman knew she was stunned. Not once had he defended anyone so strongly, even more, a servant.

  “Norman,” Duchess Eleanor said calmly, “At this juncture—”

  “—we cannot afford a scandal,” Norman cut in, rather rudely, “I know but this is not up to you, Mother. I like Miss Hall and she is a wonderful person.”

  The unfathomable look in the Duchess' eyes did not bother him, “Norman, there is a rift between her and the Ogbents. Do you think it wise to antagonize your fiancée this early?”

  He knew what she was trying to say but ignored it. He needed Miss Hall back. “Your points are clear and wise but I will risk it. Do I have your word, Mother?”

  Her lips thinned but she nodded, “No.”

  If she was prepared to be stubborn, Norman was even more so, “Then I will send the Ogbents home.”

  Her wide eyes and tense posture told him that he had broken through her calm shell. It was a low move and one that might cost him in the future, but he was prepared to so. Miss Hall deserves a champion.

  “Norman,” the Duchess said tightly, “are you mad? Where is this coming from? Miss Hall is a servant, a talented servant yes, but still a servant.”

  “She is still a soul with a good heart and a lovely mind. She needs a fair chance,” Norman argued, “Father always had a problem with me when I tended to see persons aside from what their station was. I never thought you would do the same.”

  “Norman, this is your future,” the Duchess snapped, “too much time had passed while we let you pick and choose. Your father has already gone to the grave with you unmarried, will you send me to mine in that way? Your rule will be undermined if you do not marry and marry well. A partnership with the Ogbents will prove you to your people.”

  “Mother, my daily work has already proven me to our people and if it has not by now,” said Norman evenly, if not a little tiredly, “then I do not know what else can be done.”

  “You can focus on making a bond with Miss Fawcett,” the Duchess replied stiffly, “Norman, Miss Hall, is an asset, Miss Fawcett is a priority. Choose which is more important.”

  At that Norman’s eyes narrowed, “Are you insinuating that I am so shallow that I cannot take care of both?”

  “It is clear that your loyalties are laying where they should not be,” retorted the Duchess, “Norman, what has caused you to press Miss Hall’s case so strongly?”

  “Because she is real and relatable, Mother,” Norman replied while standing up. “With her, there is no pretense, and I find that refreshing.”

  He was almost at the door when her voice posed a question that Norman would rather not answer, “Is that all you find about her, Norman?”

  The insinuations were there but Norman chose to ignore them…for the time being.

  “…Good day, Mother,” the Duke replied over his shoulder, “If you choose to not recant your order, the Ogbents will leave at noon. I will leave to act with your wise discretion.”

  Rosaline was under the table, trying to grab a stray scrap of cloth when the door to the room was knocked on. She jumped and knocked her head on the underside to the table.

  “Drat,” she groaned and grabbed the scrap of cloth. Extricating herself from the underside of the desk, Rosaline scrambled up to see the Duchess there.

  She felt her heartbeat quickened but swallowed her panic down. She brushed her skirts off and curtsied, “Your Grace.”

  The powder blue dress and silver turban the lady had only enhanced the notion that the lady was queenly.

  “Miss Hall,” said she, with a tight smile on her face, “my son just had a rather interesting conversation with me.”

  “Oh, about?” Rosaline asked even as her pulse increased.

  “He asked me to rescind my order for you to not mingle with him and I am here to do just that, although it is somewhat against my will.” The lady replied while stepping inside the room. “My son is surprisingly protective of you. You have some substantial powers, Miss Hall.”

  Her stomach was knotting while her face was aflame, “I do not think so, Your Grace.”

  “If Norman can defend you staunchly, you must. I rescind the order, but Miss Hall, I trust you to not abuse this power. His marriage is at stake here, and with it, is his future,” said the Duchess. “I cannot stand by and allow any threats to either one.”

  Allow threats? What was she hinting at?

  The memory of how the Duke had looked at her, with what she believed to be attr
action, flitted behind her eyes and she realized, what the lady was probably implying. But that was absurd! Did the Duchess think the Duke would endanger his life and livelihood for her?

  The look the older lady gave her pierced through her skin and reached all the way to her bones with a decided chill, and Rosaline had to assure her— and possibly by doing so, assure herself too.

  “I won’t, Your Grace,” she said.

  The Duchess inclined her head and left the room with a quiet, “Good day”.

  The strength in Rosaline’s legs was about to give out and she staggered to the nearest chair. “Lord, help me.”

  The same Friday evening, Rosaline was allowed to take the manor’s buggy to go visit Mrs. Caddell. A month had passed from her day of appointment with the Duchess and she felt pressed to follow through with her old tradition of visiting her mentor. And moreover, the trip gave her a chance to clear her mind.

  So many things had happened in under that relatively short time, that her mind felt jumbled at times. She did not know what to put at the top of the list—the mixed emotions she was getting from the Duke or what she now knew about Mary.

  Stretches of wildflowers, soft rolling hills, tall trees, and wide-open spaces showed her the scenery that she had missed on her first trip to the Horenwall mansion. Admittedly, during that trip, worry had blanketed her mind and she could not have concentrated on anything else but why was she being summoned to the Duchess’ house.

  She was seeking Mrs. Caddell’s wisdom as she was the closest thing she had to a mother. The manor’s masquerade party was the next night, Miss Moore had gone home and the manor was busy being decorated.

  Closing her eyes, she remembered the look in the Duke’s eyes that night in the workroom. I felt as if I would combust under the fire in his eyes. When he came near to me…was he going to kiss me? His eyes were on my lips…if he did kiss me, would I have kissed him back?

  The benign blue had changed to shimmering sapphire pools and she had been drowning in them. I might have…

  Her chest had been trapped in hot bands of what she now knew was desire. It had been hard to not step close to him but she had stayed in place. The man was engaged, his fiancée was in the same home, she was a servant and he was a Duke! How much more forbidden can he be?

  But the feeling…just thinking of his eyes made a shiver run through her whole body. He is so mesmerizing.

  The driveway to Mrs. Caddell’s home was in sight and soon enough the trimmed hedges to the modest cottage were being passed. When the buggy stopped, she waited for the driver to let down the steps and with a smile and thanks, she went to the door.

  She had barely knocked when the door was flung open and the beaming eyes of Mrs. Caddell met hers. “Miss Hall! Welcome, welcome. Please come in, my dear. Where is your companion? Invite him in for a refreshment.”

  “Mr. Taylor,” Rosaline said kindly, “would you please accompany us?”

  The man tipped his hat, “Thank you kindly, but I am just fine right here.”

  “Well then,” the older woman said and stepping back, “come in, dear. For the last month, I have kept wondering how you are.”

  The remembered ambience in the house she had called home for almost eight years was comforting to Rosaline. The smell of weak lavender soap, and teak wood was familiar to her senses as was Miss Caddell’s upholstered chairs.

  She calmly took off her bonnet and thin coat and set them beside her as Mrs. Caddell handed her a glass of lemonade. She had not even been asked but years of familiarity had negated it.

  “Thank you,” Rosaline smiled and sipped the drink. “How are your knees?”

  “Coming along, dear, coming along,” Mrs. Caddell smiled, reached over and patted her knee, “Now, tell me, how is it with the Horenwall family?”

  Rosaline thought for a moment, “Challenging, Mrs. Caddell, it turns out that I was called in to make the wedding dress for His Grace’s fiancée.”

  The lady’s eyes lit up, “That’s wonderful!”

  She tried to feel any delight but couldn’t. “I thought so too until I learned that she is from the same family that had something to do with Mary’s death.”

  The air suddenly went frigid, and the shock on Mrs. Caddell’s face was palpable. Without being asked, and through sips, Rosaline summarized what she had learned by first telling the lady how conceited she found Miss Fawcett.

  “She was Miss Fawcett’s Abigail. They say she had stolen something and was sent to prison, but I cannot understand that, Mrs. Caddell! Mary was a very honest person. Could it be that she…changed?”

  “It is a possibility, Miss Hall,” Mrs. Caddell sighed, “Many people can get trapped in the mirage of wealth that they are surrounded by and think it easy to get away with little things.”

  “She was sent to prison, Mrs. Caddell, when she could have easily been dismissed,” Rosaline sagged in her seat. “That does not sound like something small to me.”

  “I am sure you’ll find out more soon,” Mrs. Caddell comforted.

  Placing the glass on the coaster, Rosaline added, “I hope so.”

  Looking down at her work-worn hands, Rosaline sighed, “And to make matters just a bit worse, there is a masquerade ball this evening and I have nothing to wear.”

  “They are letting servants into the ball?” Mrs. Caddell exclaimed.

  “No, no,” Rosaline rushed to correct, “I won’t be attending, no. It is just that all the servants are asked to put on their best. My dresses are all worn and known, and I do not want to lower the standards of the event.”

  A thoughtful look crossed Mrs. Caddell face before she stood. “A lady left this dress to me a few weeks ago as a pattern for the one she asked me to make. It is close to your size.”

  The dress made of the darkest blue cloth, with a decidedly silky sheen, was presented to her. It had a broad neckline and a scandalous dip in the middle of the back but that could easily be covered with a shawl.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Caddell,” she said, “I think it will do beautifully.”

  What could she do to enhance it? A memory of the story she had read in the library, about a goddess of the night named Nyx came to her. She could probably pull the image off but she needed some additions.

  “Mrs. Caddell…do you have any black cloth, something sheer?”

  The older woman frowned in thought, “I suppose some could be in my scrap basket. Check there.”

  After rooting through the basket and finding scraps of black sheer cloth, Rosaline carefully secured her possessions. The conversation then turned to happier events with Mrs. Caddell saying that her son was making the move for her to come live with him in Bath and that soon she might be gone. Her daughter, who lived in Manchester, was nearly to term with her second child and she was looking forward to that.

  Rosaline who was glad for the older woman, smiled and shared her stories about how she now had her own protégé to teach. Mrs. Caddell asked her to stay for a meal but Rosaline gently refused.

  “I must be getting back,” said she while donning her coat and bonnet, “I will visit as soon as I can.”

  Her mentor’s smile was pleased, “I always knew you would become great. Take care, Miss Hall.”

  She blushed while taking the bag with the dress, “Thank you, Mrs. Caddell.”

  Mounting the carriage Rosaline tugged out the dress and looked it over. Perhaps with an extended hemline or a tuck to the bodice, it would work.

  The visit to her mentor had calmed her mind for a moment but upon arriving that calm was gone when she almost ran right into the Duke.

  “My apologies, Your Grace,” she said nervously. Rosaline had not expected to see him so quickly after their standoff four nights ago. “I did not see you there.”

  “I am sure you did not,” he said while Rosaline did not dare look into his eyes.

  “Her Grace has rescinded the order, Your Grace,” she replied quietly.

  “So why are you not looking at me then?” the Duke inqui
red. “I am sure my eyes are not on my Hessians.”

  Swallowing, Rosaline looked up to meet soft blue eyes. He really is handsome, and he fought for me…what can I do for him except honor the Duchess wishes?

  “That’s better. I hope you will take part tonight Miss Hall,” the older man added as he passed her.

  She frowned and spun, “Tonight? What am I doing tonight?”

  His head cocked to the side and his smile was sly, “The servants, they are having a ball of their own.”

  Oh no.