The Duke's Governess in Disguise

by Claudia Stone

There, dressed in a plain dress and cap, was a girl who looked so like Emily, that she had to pinch herself to make sure that she was not dreaming.

  The girl was so like her, that she could almost be Emily's twin—but that wasn't possible...was it?

  CHAPTER THREE

  3

  "Gemini!"

  Emily spoke first, excitement growing as she looked the girl up and down, from top to toe. She had never experienced anything like this—it was like something from a novel.

  "Be the holy God," Mary, added, blessing herself as she stared with horror between Emily and the shop girl. "'Tis the devil himself, my Lady."

  "I am not the devil," the girl retorted indignantly, casting an annoyed glance at Mary.

  "It's said he speaks only lies," Mary whispered, edging closer to Emily, "Be careful, now, my lady. No sudden movements."

  "Gracious, Mary," Emily laughed at her maid's superstition. "She's not the devil and nor am I. She's simply a girl who looks like me, that's all."

  "She doesn't simply look like you," Mary protested, "She is you. What's the bet that when she takes off that awful cap, her hair's the same ebony black as your own?"

  "Must every situation evolve into an opportunity for gambling?" Emily grumbled,for Mary was famous for enticing the footmen to take a flutter on the bigger horse races, though it was always Mary who won in the end. Curious, Emily turned to the girl, still taking her appearance in with wide eyes;"May I ask you to remove your cap?"

  The girl mutely obliged, tugging off the hideous, white cap which covered her hair, in one fluid motion.

  Both Emily and Mary gasped in unison, as the girl revealed a mop of dark, black curls, just like Emily's own. Without the cap hiding her features, it was now clear as day that the pair were as identical as two peas in a pod.

  "Lud," Emily whispered, her green eyes meeting the girl's, "We could be twins."

  "Indeed, we could," the girl stammered in response, "But how could it be so?"

  "The birthmark," Mary interrupted excitedly, pointing at the girl as she addressed her. "Tell me, Miss, do you have a birthmark at all?"

  "I do," she admitted.

  "Where is it and what shape?" Mary continued to probe.

  "Upon my thigh," the girl whispered, clearly mortified at having to mention body parts in front of member of the peerage, "A small heart shape."

  Emily felt all her breath leave her body at this revelation—how could it be? It was too much of a coincidence to ignore. She had thought that this encounter was simply one of life's oddities, for one sometimes heard of people meeting their doppelganger, but this was something else—this girl was identical to her.

  "Gemini," Emily whispered, taking the girl's hand in her own. "I have the exact same mark. What do you think it means?"

  "What else can it mean, but that you're twins?" Mary interjected excitedly. "I've never seen two people more alike in my life. Look—even that mole upon your cheek is the same, Lady Emily."

  "It's not a mole, it's a freckle," Emily replied defensively, raising a gloved hand to her cheek. The girl opposite her gave a chuckle of laughter at Emily's objection, which she quickly changed into a cough as Emily frowned indignantly.

  "I rather think," the girl said, in a manner that was far more composed than Emily could have managed, "That now is not the time to quibble over semantics."

  "You're right," Emily agreed; now was not the time for discussing the wretched mole upon her cheek. Why focus on such a trivial topic, when her very own twin sister stood before her? "It's not. I simply must know everything about you. What's your name? Where were you born? Where did you grow up? Who were your parents?"

  "Ava Smith. London. The Asylum for Orphaned Girls in Lambeth. And, I don't know," the girl answered in one quick exhalation of breath.

  "You're an orphan?" Emily frowned in confusion and turned to Mary. "Whatever can Mother and Father have been thinking, leaving my twin sister to be raised in an orphanage? It wasn't as though they didn't have the funds to raise twins! How can they have been so cruel?"

  "Ahem," Mary cleared her throat delicately. "My lady, I do not think the Marquess and Marchioness of Havisham would have been anyway inclined toward discarding their own flesh and blood to a filthy orphanage. Perhaps, and don't take fright, you too were born within the asylum walls, but Lord and Lady Fairfax adopted you out? That's the explanation that makes most sense to my mind."

  "But," Emily turned back toward Ava, her eyes resting upon her worn dress and sturdy boots. "Why would they have taken only one of us?"

  "That, I do not know," Mary replied with a shrug, casting a pitying glance upon Ava. The poor girl, Emily noticed, had gone rather pale.

  "Take a big whiff," Mary, spotting that Ava was about to faint, shoved a bottle of something pungent under her nose. Ava did as she was instructed, and inhaled a big sniff of the salts, instantly looking more revived.

  "There's no shame in taking a fit of the vapours, my girl," Mary said, placing a comforting hand upon Ava's arm, leading her into the reading room and seating her down upon the chaise longue. "Must be mighty strange, to find family after all these years alone."

  Emily watched as her sister sat down, her eyes cast down to her lap, and nodded. Goodness, she thought, how strange it must be for her to find a family member, after twenty years by herself. Emily had known only love and happiness during her childhood, and she knew that she had been blessed. Though, perhaps, until now, she had not truly understood what a blessing it had been to have Lord and Lady Fairfax as her parents.

  An overwhelming urge to comfort Ava overcame her and Emily sat down on the chaise longue beside her sister and gently threaded Ava's fingers through her own.

  "Gemini," Emily said, giving the girl's hand a squeeze, "I have always wanted a sister and now I have one. Oh, I am so happy we have found each other. Let's never separate again."

  In her mind, Emily began planning on how she and Ava might stay together. She would bring her home to father at once—and while she was at it, she thought with a start, she would ask him why he had never told her she was not his flesh and blood daughter.

  Emily's thoughts were interrupted as the girl beside her sat up straight and cast Emily a worried glance.

  "I leave tomorrow," Ava said, "For Kent. I have been offered a position as a governess."

  "Oh, fudge and fiddlesticks," Emily replied, her small nose wrinkling in annoyance, "We simply can't let you go. You must stay here, so that we can spend more time together. Though..."

  She trailed off, her brow creased in a frown. Gracious; she was due to be married by the end of the season! What would the dour, fusty Duke of Kilbride think of this girl? He would surely disapprove of Ava, for despite her impeccable manners and cultured voice, the snobbish duke would not accept a commoner in his home.

  "What is it?" Ava prompted.

  "I am to be married," Emily said, distaste lacing her tone as she thought of Kilbride, "To the most odious of men—"

  She broke off, casting Mary, who had clucked disapprovingly at her description of her beau, an aggrieved glare. Mary was of the opinion that Emily was fit for Bedlam, for having no interest in marrying the duke—as a duchess, Emily would hold one of the highest titles in England.

  "He is odious," she repeated churlishly, casting an aggrieved glance at Mary. "Oh, he walks around as though he has a fire poker up his bottom and he's so cold--like a dead fish. All he wants, is for me to be his broodmare and produce an heir and a spare with pure, aristocratic lineage. He does not love me, nor I him."

  "Goodness, whatever shall we do?" Ava wondered.

  Emily felt a thrill at the word "we". It seemed her sister was already thinking of them as a pair, and the idea warmed her heart. Emily could not allow them to be separated by Kilbride, of all people—not when they had just found each other.

  Imagine sacrificing a perfectly wonderful thing like a twin sister, for a duke who could barely deign to string a sentence together in her presence!

 
"I don't know," Emily chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, "Honestly, I have tried to tell Papa that I do not wish to marry Kilbride, but he is insistent I become a duchess. The only saving grace is that he allowed me a long engagement, so that the duke and I could be certain of each other before we wed. That's it!"

  Emily snapped her fingers, as an idea popped into her head. It was, even she could admit, a rather preposterous plan, but it might just work.

  "What's it?" Ava asked, a curious look upon her face.

  "Kilbride and I have one season to decide if we are suited to each other," Emily said in a rush, "But, if we were to swap places, I know that you could convince him that we are most unsuited."

  "And why is that?" Ava retorted, quite obviously offended that Emily thought her capable of repelling a duke without so much as trying.

  "Because you have the advantage of distance," Emily replied with a smile which hid the stab of guilt she felt at the memory of her mother, "I am too afraid of upsetting my poor father to rebel against his wishes—but that fear won't hold you back. And, besides, wouldn't it be fun to swap lives for a few weeks? There's no better way to get to know each other, than to walk a few miles in each other's shoes."

  Emily glanced at her kidskin half-boots, which were laced at the front and trimmed with ribbon, to Ava's sturdy, well worn, work-boots, which peeked out from under the hem of her plain dress. Emily's own footwear spoke of an owner who had to do very little walking, whilst Ava's were made for heavy work. How strange it was, that though they looked the same, they had lived such opposite lives, she thought.

  Ava appeared to be mulling over Emily's suggestion; she was biting her lip as she thought on it, a habit that Emily herself was guilty of. She tried not to look at Mary, whom she could sense was glowering in disapproval and instead focused her attention upon her sister.

  "I'll do it," Ava said, after a moment's silence.

  From the look on Mary's face, Emily could plainly see that the maid thought Ava would have more sense than her sister.

  "Lord bless us and save us," the Irish woman said as she glanced from one twin to the other, "And what will you do, my lady, whilst your sister is pretending to be you?"

  "Why I'll take her new position as a governess in..."

  "Kent," Ava helpfully supplied, "For the Duke of Hemsworth."

  The Duke of Hemsworth? Emily flinched at the mention of the name. Her mother had called him a rake and, indeed, during Emily's short time in town she had heard whispers of his supposed tendency toward depravity. Hemsworth did not attend any of the same gatherings as she, so Emily had never even seen the man, but she was inclined to think that wasn't a particularly good omen. He probably spent all his time with the demi-monde, she thought nervously, and did not deign to attend any socially acceptable affairs, like Almack's.

  He probably will not even be at home, Emily realised, for why would the despicable Duke of Hemsworth spend any time in Kent, when he could be carousing around London?

  This thought cheered her so much, that when Ava enquired if she knew of the Duke, Emily was able to muster a lie to placate her sister's concern.

  "Only by reputation," Emily said, with a straight face, before changing the subject. "Still, what fun to work and earn my own keep!"

  Emily did not miss the knowing glance which Ava exchanged with Mary; they probably thought her silly for even saying such a thing. Work, the kind which one was forced to do to earn one's keep, was not something that most ladies of the ton would get excited about, but then Emily was not most ladies. It would be nice, she felt, to do something different; her days consisted of changing into a dozen different outfits and to be admired—there was little fulfilment in being a living ornament.

  "But," Mary interrupted her thoughts, "When will you swap back? You can't pretend to be each other forever."

  "At the month's end," Emily said firmly, giving Ava's hand a squeeze, "You will come and fetch me from—"

  "Kent," Ava supplied again, casting her sister a worried glance.

  She probably thinks me a feather-brain, Emily thought, though it was far from the truth. The news that Hemsworth was to be her employer had rendered Emily a little stupid, but usually she was most competent.

  "Yes, Kent," Emily echoed her sister, before continuing to outline her plan. "And we shall return together and tell Papa that we have found each other, and can no longer stand the thought of being separated. He'll probably send us off to one of his estates down the country to avoid any scandal. Oh! Then we shall be able to spend all our days together!"

  Emily's plan was completely outrageous, but luckily her sister seemed buoyed by Emily's enthusiasm.

  "Sounds smashing," Ava replied, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

  "It sounds like you both need your heads smashed together," Mary argued, casting a glance from one twin to the other. "Your father will know in a second that she's not you, my Lady."

  "But how could he guess the truth?" Emily asked with a shrug. "For, as far as we know, he is not aware that Ava exists. He will simply think I am out of sorts. We are identical in every way, Mary, he will never guess, nor even think to guess."

  "Aye," the lady's maid gave a resigned sigh, "Indeed, you're identical down to the last freckle—apart from your hands."

  All three pairs of eyes turned to look with dismay at Ava's cracked, dry hands, which were red from being thrust into soapy water thrice a day. Emily's own hands were ensconced in kidskin gloves, which buttoned to the elbow. Just looking at Ava's hands made Emily wince; they looked almost painful. Guilt pierced her heart, for she realised that though her sister seemed happy enough, her life had been much harder than Emily's.

  Emily longed to question Ava about her childhood, but sensed that now was not the time to do so. It would wait, she decided, for another day.

  "What if Lady Georgiana recognises me?" Ava questioned, with a nervous look to her sister, "She was here only this afternoon."

  Emily furrowed her brow at this news, but Mary answered before Emily had chance to.

  "No need to worry about that, my love," Mary said tartly, "They look right through you, the gentry do. You're like the wallpaper to them."

  "I don't look through anyone," Emily protested, a little shocked by the honesty displayed by her lady's maid. The camaraderie between Ava and Mary left Emily feeling a little put out; it seemed her maid had more in common with her sister than she did.

  "No," Mary bestowed a placating smile upon her mistress, which mollified Emily somewhat. "But then you've always been rather different, my Lady."

  "Mary once told me I was mad as a box of frogs," Emily confessed with a smile to Ava. That Mary had called her that after Emily had voiced her doubts about Kilbride was neither here nor there—Emily simply wanted Ava to know that she was not like the rest of the ton. Emily had never looked through anyone in her life. In truth, she had often envied her father's servants for their lives, imagining that life downstairs was far less inhibiting than the stuffy parlour rooms above.

  Perhaps I never felt the proper lady, because I am not, Emily thought with a start. She had been so excited at discovering Ava, that she had not thought what it really meant. If she had been adopted out of the institution that Ava had grown up in, it could mean only one thing: there was not a drop of noble blood in her body. Emily was just about to ask if Ava had any idea as to who their mother might be, when a creak from the floor above made all three ladies start.

  "Boris," Ava said in a frightened whisper which made Emily assume that Boris was the owner of Mr Hobbs'. "We'll need to leave soon, or he'll come down complaining that I'm wasting good candle wicks in an empty shop."

  "And you need to be home, my Lady," Mary added, with a frown to Emily, "Lest your father sends out a search party. You know what he's like."

  The twins both looked at each other for a moment as they realised that they were to separate again.

  "It won't be for long," Emily reassured her sister, who looked rather fretful. "Just a month.
Then we shall be together forever."

  Her words seemed to bolster her sister, for she nodded her head.

  "Come," Ava whispered, beckoning the pair to follow her, "If we take the backstairs, Boris will not see us. We can swap clothes in my bedroom and I can show you the letter from Mr Hobbs, which gives instructions on where you are to go tomorrow and what coach to take."

  "Swap clothes?"

  For the first time since she had voiced the plan to swap places, Emily felt a little dubious. She discreetly scanned her sister's outfit from top to toe, taking in the thin looking material of her dress, which looked as though it would be no protection from the cold. Emily's own dress was made of luxurious, warm velvet—she would freeze to death in her sister's threadbare garbs.

  "We shall swap for tonight," Emily said firmly, with a smile that she hoped did not seem forced, "Then tomorrow Mary will have a messenger meet me at the coach with a few of my own dresses."

  "I will, will I?" Mary huffed, but Emily was resolute.

  "You will," she said firmly, before beckoning her lady's maid to follow Ava, who was patiently waiting for them to finish their bickering.

  Upstairs, in Ava's small, attic bedroom, the girls quickly dressed. Mary helped Ava to change into Emily's clothing, which consisted of many, many layers; over her own chemise, Ava put on Emily's short stays, petticoats and a pair of white, silk stockings with elaborately embroidered lace clocks at their heels. Over all these layers, Ava then wore her sister's white walking dress, and over that a green spencer jacket, which came to her waist and was trimmed with gold braid at the cuffs. It took a good twenty minutes for Mary to dress Ava, whilst it had taken Emily only a moment to don her sister's one, worn petticoat and thin, day dress.

  The end result of all the fuss was rather remarkable, Emily thought, as she took in her sister. Ava looked every inch the lady, especially once Mary had hidden her hands beneath the kidskin gloves.

  "Divindy," Ava breathed, as she twirled a little in the boots. Her twin's face was so excited that Emily felt a stab of guilt; the outfit was not her best, not by a long-shot. Emily thought of all of the expensive dresses which were crammed into her dressing room and compared them to the small, neatly-folded, pile of clothing upon Ava's bed. The sad, little pile seemed to be all her sister's possessions. Life was not fair, to have given Emily everything while her sister had wanted, she thought with a frown.