“Indeed. I expect that in losing gifts like being able to walk under the sun, I was given others to replace them. Like excellent vision at night.”
Archie glanced toward Mrs. Cates. “Will her reputation survive her helping us, Mrs. Cates?”
“As she said, My Lord,” Mrs. Cates answered with a conspiratorial smile. “I won’t tell.”
“To minimize the danger to her reputation,” Archie said, “it will be just the three of us, Norris. Cornelia, you understand the risk, however? I can promise you, you will not be harmed, but if you’re seen with us without a chaperone, it could damage your name.”
Cornelia chuckled. “If ever I had a name or a reputation, I never heard of it. I suggest we start looking for your Bucephalus.”
“Right. Before he gets too far.”
Half expecting to shorten his stride in order for Cornelia to keep up, Archie was pleasantly surprised to find she matched his swift pace easily. Leaving the garden with Norris, they strode side by side across the stable yard toward the open moors. “Do you think he might have gone this way, Norris?” Archie asked.
“From his perspective,” Norris answered, “it makes sense. The other direction is the house and the garden, and we would have seen him there, I should think. Knowing how he likes to run, I am guessing he jumped the wall and took off for the pastures.”
“Smelling the mares out there,” Archie agreed.
“This Bucephalus sounds like quite the character,” Cornelia commented, striding swiftly up a low hill.
“That he is, miss,” Norris agreed.
Cornelia stopped at the hill’s summit to gaze around at the rolling moors, almost invisible to Archie’s sight. The moonlight glowed softly down, but even that hardly helped him at all to see. A fox yipped a short distance away, and Cornelia suddenly said, “There he is.”
“Where?” Archie asked, eager.
Cornelia pointed toward their right. “When the fox barked, he lifted his head, and his movement gave him away. Now he’s just standing there, watching us.”
“I don’t see a damn thing,” Archie stated. “But I believe you. Let’s go get him.”
“Uh, m’lord?”
Archie turned back to Norris. “What?”
Norris shrugged his shoulders. “We forgot a rope to lead him by.”
“Oh, for –”
“We won’t need one.” Cornelia strode down the hill toward the blackness she said was Bucephalus. “He’s lonely and a little scared to be out on his own. He’ll follow us back.”
Archie stared at Norris, who gazed at him, astonished. “Well, he might,” Archie began.
“Nothing to lose by trying, I expect.”
Given Cornelia’s pale skin and white hair and dress, Archie felt like he was following a ghost as he and Norris headed down the hill in her wake. Confident, she marched across the moors, walking around rocks and small thickets, things Archie would have tripped over in his inability to see them in the dark. Ahead, he heard a soft snort and hooves on heather, and he half expected Bucephalus to bolt and run.
He did not. Cornelia pale form stopped even as the stallion’s black shadow appeared darker than the night around them. Archie heard her quiet croons, and slowed his pace, his hand on Norris’s arm, fearing Bucephalus might spook and bolt. “Cornelia?” he asked, his voice low.
She giggled. “He is licking my hand.”
“Then I expect he’s not too concerned about making a run for it,” Archie commented dryly. “Put your hand on his neck and see if he will walk with you.”
“Come on, Bucephalus,” Cornelia said, her pale form dwarfed by the stallion. “Let us go home, shall we?”
To Archie’s astonishment, Bucephalus trod tamely beside Cornelia as she strode toward him and Norris, and passed between them. “He is such a sweet thing,” she said as she did so. “He is like a very big baby.”
Archie glanced at Norris, who shrugged with a grin. “After you, m’lord.”
Bucephalus walked into his stall as though happy to be home, and immediately went to his hay to begin dining. His worried groom, William, still wearing a bandage around his brow, waited for them with a lantern. He bowed to Archie and hardly noticed Cornelia at all. “I’m sorry, My Lord,” he said, frantic. “He was in there when I went to my supper, and when I returned he had opened his door again.”
“Not your fault, William,” Archie replied, watching Cornelia stroke the stallion’s glossy neck as he munched happily on his feed. “We will devise some method of keeping his door closed. How is your head?”
“Aches a bit, it does, but getting better.”
“Good. Get your rest.”
William bowed again, and retreated down the cobblestone aisle toward the ladder that led to the rafters where the grooms slept. Growing more concerned about Cornelia’s reputation now that she could be seen by anyone in the stables, alone with men without a chaperone, Archie said, “You should return to the house, Cornelia. I do not wish to tarnish your name any more than I possibly have.”
She left Bucephalus with a sigh, and Norris swung the stall door closed, a lit lantern in his hand. He shook his head over the latch. “Perhaps a chain might confuse him for a time,” he commented.
“I don’t want it so complicated the grooms can’t open it in an emergency, either,” Archie replied, guiding Cornelia out of the stable. “Let’s just hope he has had his fill of jaunts for a while. Good night, Norris.”
“Good night, m’lord, miss.”
Archie escorted Cornelia back to the garden, then stopped at the entrance. Peering in, he saw no sign of Mrs. Cates, and presumed that she had returned to her quarters. “You should go in alone,” he said, “I will wait here for a time before following after you. I would not want anyone getting the wrong impression about you.”
“You are very kind to worry about me, Archie.” Cornelia smiled. “May I obtain your permission to visit the stables?”
“Yes, you may do so. Not alone, however, you must bring along a companion, even if it’s a house or serving maid.”
“That is, if I make any friends among the staff,” she replied, her expression falling.
“You will, I’m sure of it.”
“Good night then, Archie.”
“Good night, Cornelia.” She started to walk away. “Cornelia?”
Turning, she paused to glance inquiringly over her shoulder. Archie grinned. “Thank you for helping me get my horse back.”
Returning his grin, she curtsied. “It was my pleasure.”
As she walked away from him, Archie admired her slender form until it vanished amid the tall hedges. Following her a short distance into the garden, he sat down on a bench to give her time to be seen, alone, by anyone who might still be up and about in the house. Content to sit and gaze at the stars, he contemplated her, what he knew of her, and what he had witnessed that night.
“Quite a girl,” he murmured to himself with a smile, remembering how she walked up to a loose stallion in the dark without any fear whatsoever. No fear of being alone on the moors with two virtual male strangers. No fear of damaging her reputation by being seen alone with two men. “I like her. A lot.”
When at last he deemed it safe to return to the house as though not having been alone with her, he went inside. A few servants still up and around gave him his deferential due as he wandered across the entryway toward the drawing room, loosening his cravat. Dismissing the attendant footman in there, he poured himself a brandy, and sat on the comfortable plush sofa to sip it.
The drawing room door opened, interrupting his pleasant thoughts about Cornelia. Sanders entered, and bowed. “A footman arrived while you were out, My Lord,” he intoned. “A message from His Lordship, the Earl of Whitstone.”
“Ah, bring it here, please.”
Noah walked across the room, and presented Archie with an envelope of a silver tray. Opening it, he read: My dear Archie. I am writing to announce that I will be paying a call on you the day after tomorrow. I h
ope that is convenient. Your friend, Richard.
Archie replaced the note in its envelope. “Please advise the staff that we will have the Earl as a guest the day after tomorrow,” he said. “I’m certain he will stay for supper.”
“Very good, My Lord. Do you wish for anything?”
“No.” Archie picked up his snifter of brandy. “You may retire for the evening, if you wish, Noah.”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
After another bow, Noah strode back across the room, and closed the door softly behind him. Richard had a habit of dropping by Archie’s home with little or no warning, but as Archie very seldom had plans, it hadn’t been a problem before. Now that he wished to spend time with Cornelia, to get to know her better, Richard’s coming by seemed like an awkward situation.
Given Richard’s penchant for sneering down at commoners, Archie decided, sipping his brandy and staring at the wall, to not inform him that the pale woman from the circus was now in his employ. No doubt Richard would want to meet her while demeaning her at the same time. Nor did Archie want his good, yet supercilious, friend to know that he had an interest in this particular commoner.
Beyond a doubt, Archie now knew he was very interested in Cornelia.
* * *
After a nearly sleepless night from excitement, Cornelia ate her breakfast in the servants’ quarters with many of the household staff. Among the footmen, the serving and kitchen maids, the cleaning women, she sat alone at a table, hardly noticing the stares directed her way. Being gawked at had become so commonplace for her, she often felt uncomfortable if she was not being stared at.
“May I sit with you?”
Cornelia glanced up, surprised. “Yes, of course.”
A cleaning maid in her black and white livery with a lacy cap on her head offered her a tentative smile as she sat across from Cornelia. She appeared to be younger than Cornelia with a plain round face, hazel eyes that tended to cross, and slightly crooked teeth. “I’m Nancy.”
“Cornelia.”
“You look like you were dipped in flour,” Nancy said without rancor, taking a bite of her bread.
“I suppose that is a good way to describe me,” Cornelia agreed without taking offense.
“I have never seen someone like you before. You’re very pretty.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.”
Nancy shrugged. “I know I’m not pretty. People make fun of me. Do they make fun of you, too?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, they do.”
“People are cruel.”
“Yes,” Cornelia agreed. “But I like to believe that most people are good. With kindness in their hearts.”
Nancy gazed around the large room where the servants took their meals. “Most everyone is staring at you. Does it not annoy you?”
“Nancy, I have always been stared at. Since I was a little girl, I was placed in a glass case at a circus, and everyone came by to look at me. Believe me, what those folks over there are doing does not bother me a bit.”
The maid’s crossed eyes went round. “You were a traveling circus freak?”
“Yes.”
For a moment, Cornelia thought Nancy would up and leave, denouncing her to the others servants. Then she smiled brightly, and in that smile she was almost beautiful. “What is the world outside like?”
Chuckling, Cornelia answered, “Well, I have never left England. London is a huge place, noisy, with lots of people. Wales is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.”
“London is such a long way off,” Nancy said dreamily. “One day I would like to see it.”
“Maybe one day you will.”
“No. I’m just a maid. Maids do not go to places like London. Except ladies’ maids, but our Lord has no Lady. I’m a cleaning servant.”
“One day you will marry a handsome knight and he will carry you off to the sights of London on his white charger.”
Nancy giggled into her breakfast. “You are fun. I like you.”
“I like you, too, Nancy.”
“Can we be friends? I don’t have any friends. Mrs. Cates is kind to me, but she is kind to everyone, even those who displease her.”
Cornelia reached across the table and touched Nancy lightly on her hand. “I would adore being your friend.”
“You would? Oh, good. Maybe we can see each other at supper.” Nancy rose with her plate. “I must get to work now. I don’t want Mrs. Cates displeased with me.”
“I will see you this evening then.”
Cornelia took her time finishing her own breakfast, while wondering who she would report to – Archie or Mrs. Cates. Suspecting she should check in with Archie before beginning her studies in his library, she rose from the table to wash her plate and utensils, then walk back through the hall. Other servants rose from their seats as she passed them by. A tall footman blocked her path to the door.
A quick look around her showed her several maids and two footmen surrounding her. Unease filled her – she had been in situations like this before, and only one resulted in violence. Usually, however, people like these merely wanted to push her around, show their superiority, intimidate her, then leave her alone. By the look in the footman’s eyes, this one was not going to end well.
“Please let me by,” she said quietly, keeping her body relaxed, her peripheral vision at its peak.
“We don’t want freaks here,” the footman said, his voice cold. “Leave this house.”
“I work for His Lordship,” she replied evenly. “You do not like the way I look? Then do not look at me.”
Murmurs of anger at her defiant words surrounded her, but she dared not take her eyes off the footman. He was the leader. What he did, they would do. If he let her pass, they would grumble, but would not challenge him. If he made a move to strike at her, they would fall upon her like a pack of raving dogs. She knew he would try – they planned to beat her up, then run her from their domain.
If she wanted their respect, and to be left alone, she must not back down.
Cornelia had been beaten up before.
She swore it would not happen again.
“Leave now,” the footman ordered, his tone a warning. “Or we will force you to leave.”
Cornelia studied him closely. I will know you again. “Not without His Lordship’s permission. I work for him as you all.”
The footman took a step forward, looming over her. “You do not belong here.”
“That is none of your concern.”
More angry mutters directed at her drifted from the half circle behind her. No doubt, they thought she would instantly cave in, be cowed, crawl away, leave. The footman grinned. It was not a nice expression at all. When he clenched his fists, Cornelia waited, expectant, ignoring the tendril of fear that coursed down into her belly.
You know what to do. Be fast, be without mercy or they will never show you any.
He was fast.
Throwing a right hook at her head, his grin faded when his fist struck nothing but air.
Cornelia, faster than he was, dropped low at the first hint of his movement, her shoulder at the same height as his belly. Straight out from her body, with every bit of strength she possessed, she buried her fist deep in his solar plexus. Not waiting for the response she knew she would get from the blow, she ducked sideways and slammed her hard shoe into the side of his knee.
Darting like a hummingbird, the side of Cornelia’s left hand chopped into his throat.
The footman, gurgling and trying to cry out, collapsed on the floor, wriggling and squirming. Spinning out of the reach of his hands near her ankles, Cornelia faced the others, ready to take on anyone else if they had a mind. They did not, apparently, for their expressions held not just fear, but near panic, their eyes bulging from their sockets. At length, Cornelia realized they did not stare at her.
But at someone behind her.
Whirling, she found a man in the doorway of the dining hall, his face dark with lurid anger. He wa
s of middle years with greying hair, and wore, like most gentlemen, a tidy jacket, cravat, waistcoat, and black trousers. His pale green eyes flicked from the gurgling footman on the floor to the half ring around her. She had never seen him before, but by the other servants’ reactions, he held a position of high authority in the household.
“I would ask what this is about,” he said, his voice holding a near growl in it, “but it would appear quite obvious to even a blind man. Trying to run the new girl out, eh? Don’t care for her looks, right?”
He stalked into the room, glowering at each servant. Cornelia shot a quick glance at them, finding them as cowed and frightened as they hoped she would be. He spared her a look, then pointed a finger at each of the others. “You women will report to Mrs. Cates this instant, and confess to her what you tried to do here. You footmen –” His boot kicked the downed footman’s foot. “– will report your actions to Mr. Sanders. Do not think for a moment I do not know your faces, and His Lordship will decide your punishment. Go.”
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