A Heart Revealed

by Josi S. Kilpack

  “Your mother will come as soon as she is able,” Lord Marchent said, drawing the full attention of both women. “Your maid has agreed to attend you for the duration of time you spend away.”

  A maid for her companion was hardly compensation for everything Amber would be leaving behind. “Yorkshire is so far away,” she said. “Could I not go to Nottingham instead? Then I shall only be a day’s journey from all of you, and I am not well enough known there that—”

  Lord Marchent fixed her with a look that caused her to drop her gaze to the floor once more. “I have already sent word to have Step Cottage prepared for you. I shall not consider other arrangements.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Amber murmured, still staring at the rug beneath her feet.

  “Your maid is packing your trunks even now,” Lady Marchent said. “And your father has ordered the traveling carriage readied for your journey. Two groomsmen will attend you for a few days’ time upon arrival, procuring you a carriage and seeing to any other tasks of your comfort before they return with the coach. They shall be meeting with your father’s steward who, along with your father’s man of business in Northallerton, will see that your needs are met.”

  Amber dared look up at her mother. “I am to leave today?”

  “We need to regain a sense of normalcy and decorum about this house,” her father said. “There is no reason for delay now that I have finished all the correspondence that must attend you. This has not been a simple arrangement to make, and I should think you would express adequate gratitude for the difficulties we have gone to for your care.”

  Amber nodded her acceptance of his investment but could not speak. Her throat was dry with fear for what awaited her. She had never lived apart from her family, her siblings at least, and to do so at such a distance in a cottage she’d never seen before was shocking to accept. She could not help but feel as though she were being discarded as any other belonging no longer of use to its owner.

  Lord Marchent continued, “Despite the intervention of your sister’s story to explain it, the horrific scene you created has most certainly come under the attention of London gossips. As long as you remain here, none of us can recover from the burden you have placed upon us.”

  “You sound as though I did this with purpose,” she said, feeling a wave of strength, though she kept her hands tightly clenched in her lap and her eyes fixed on the rug. “As though I would bring this upon us of my own will.”

  For the space of several breaths the room was silent, then Lord Marchent stood from his chair. “There is no space for blame in this.” She could hear the fatigue in his voice; oh, but her parents were a pair for one another with their disregard. The thought did not bring the emotion it once might. Perhaps she had spent her emotion and was left empty of any feeling at all.

  Lord Marchent continued, “There are circumstances in life that happen regardless of our will. All we can do is react as best we can so as to have as little impact on the comfort of others as possible. That you have to endure such a thing is unfortunate indeed, but I should think you would not want your family to suffer along with you. I should think that as a woman of feeling and sound mind you should want to protect us from such derision, not ask that we share it with you.”

  “The country will be a good place for you to be restored,” her mother offered. “And we shall all hope for your return to London next season.”

  Amber shrank away from the thought. Could she expect that anyone would have forgotten her humiliation by next year? She could not imagine it so she focused on the restoration her mother had mentioned. That would be her reason in agreeing to this. She could do anything so long as it would help her find her true self once again. Besides, her father was right. She should trust that her parents wanted what was best for her and not create further difficulty by arguing selfish concerns.

  “As your mother said, your maid is attending to your trunks and preparing to ready you for the journey.”

  There seemed nothing else to say. “Yes, my lord.” She stood, curtsied stiffly, and left the room feeling apart from what was happening around her. All of this because she was no longer the perfect debutante, the perfect daughter? She had never before imagined that one aspect of a person could have such power as to change every detail of their existence.

  When Amber returned to her bedchamber she found Suzanne doing exactly what Lord and Lady Marchent had said she would be doing—preparing Amber’s trunks for the journey north. Upon a closer inspection, she noted the maid’s red face and swollen eyes. “What is wrong?” she snapped. Suzanne wasn’t ill, was she? That would make the journey even more difficult.

  Suzanne shook her head and continued folding Amber’s nightdress into the smaller trunk, the one that would attend her at the inns they would stay in along the way. Amber did not know if they would stop over for one night or two, but the thought of staying in an inn at all made her shiver in repulsion. She had heard tales that made her wish they could drive straight through the night, though she had never done that either. She had never had the need to cover such a distance.

  “I thought you might want your yellow traveling dress today,” Suzanne said. “Which dresses should I set aside for the rest of the journey?” Her voice broke and she sniffled with the last part.

  Amber realized that it was not illness causing her maid’s disposition. Rather, the woman was . . . sad?

  “Did you not agree to attend me?” Amber asked, annoyed and strangely hurt by the idea, which made no sense at all. Suzanne was just a maid and Amber cared not for her opinion.

  Suzanne continued pulling items from the wardrobe and laying them on the bed. Amber noted that none of her ball gowns or fancier pieces were being packed, but then she’d have no need for them in Yorkshire. Should she return next season—still a difficult prospect to consider—she would need a new wardrobe to fit the current fashions.

  “I asked if you did not agree to attend me?” Amber said when Suzanne still did not answer, not disguising her irritation at having to repeat herself. “I’ve no mind to deal with a sullen maid amid already difficult circumstances.”

  Suzanne looked up and her eyes flashed as her hands gripped the gown in her hands. “What choice do I have?” she said, her voice controlled but passionate. “I have been told that should I not attend you to Yorkshire I shall never find employ in this city again. I have lived in London all of my life; my family is here. Forgive me my sullenness, Miss, but ’tis not only your future being changed.”

  Amber backed up a step. She’d never had a servant address her with so much feeling and did not know how to respond. As she thought on the words again, however, she felt a different manner of discomfort. “Who said you wouldn’t find employment if you did not attend me?”

  Suzanne went back to her work, her cheeks pink but her mouth tightly shut.

  “I asked you a question,” Amber said harshly.

  Suzanne whipped her head up, once again full of passion Amber did not expect. “What does it matter? My fate is bound to yours, Miss, but I shall get none of the sympathy.”

  “You think anyone is regarding me with sympathy?” Amber said in angry surprise. “I am a pariah. I have lost everything.”

  “As have I,” Suzanne said boldly. “What am I to do in Yorkshire? There shan’t be fine clothes to attend to, fashions to style. You haven’t even any hair for me to care for, nor anywhere to go. I have already been set about as a chambermaid these last weeks, which is far below my training, and now I shall attend a woman without hair and without kindness in the wilds of the north country and leave behind me every person I’ve ever loved as well as any prospect of a greater position. I have lost as much as you.”

  The concept of Suzanne having lost anything at all was overwhelming, and Amber sat on a chair at the small table brought up for her meals as she looked upon her maid . . . no, as she looked upon this woman. With Amber’s fall from grace, Suzanne had become an unintended casualty.

  Suzanne had likely inv
ested all the years of Amber’s life in rising to this point of attending the ladies of the ton. She surely expected to attend Amber long enough to transition into the full position of a lady’s maid. And now she was to be exiled. Amber thought of Suzanne’s words: “Leave behind me every person I’ve ever loved.” Amber had never thought of servants having a life outside of the house they worked for. But of course they would.

  “Who do you leave behind, Suzanne?” Amber asked, her voice surprisingly soft even to her own ears.

  Suzanne had gone back to packing, though she wiped her eyes a time or two. Amber waited for an answer. Finally, after several seconds, Suzanne took a breath. “I have two sisters in London, both with families of their own. My mother is in ill health and living with my youngest sister. We all assist her when we can. Eliza is expecting her fourth child in a few months’ time and has had quite a time of it.”

  Another remark Suzanne had made came back to Amber’s mind. “I shall attend a woman without hair and without kindness.” Why Amber should be affected by a servant’s opinion of her she did not know, but realizing how Suzanne regarded her made her feel heavy inside.

  Suzanne turned to the wardrobe and removed Amber’s stockings and underthings from the bottom drawer. Amber watched her smooth out each piece, fold it carefully, and tuck it into the trunk. Even with her anger and devastation at being forced to leave London she was attentive to her tasks, attentive to Amber.

  “I am sorry, Suzanne,” Amber said, seized by an emotion she was unable to define. Her best attempt labeled it as regret for Suzanne’s circumstance and guilt for being the cause of it. Surely she had come about these feelings naturally at some time in her life, as there was a familiarity to them, but not recently to be sure, as they were foreign too. Suzanne looked at her with hesitation, and Amber took a breath. “It is not right that you should be affected by this after you have served me so well these last weeks. I shall talk to my mother and ask that she find you a position worthy of your station. She has many connections, and I will insist she ensure you a solid post.”

  “Who would then attend you?” Suzanne asked, hesitant but eager too. “You can’t travel to Yorkshire alone.”

  No, she couldn’t travel to Yorkshire alone. Amber looked at the rug beneath her feet as she sought a solution in her mind, then met her maid’s eyes. “The groomsmen attending me will be returning to London after I am settled. You could come with me to this estate and return with them to London. You will be gone but a week.”

  “And leave you there alone?”

  “I’m sure I can find a maid in Yorkshire,” Amber said, ignoring the fear springing up in her chest of having to show herself to someone new. “Or perhaps I am not in need of an abigail.” The idea of not having anyone to care for her person was frightening, but she attempted to keep from showing the emotion. The other servants could be kept at such a distance so as to not even know of her condition. “If you only pack the simpler dresses rather than those with the more elaborate fastenings about them, I could dress myself without assistance. As you said, I have nothing to ready myself for and no hair to be attended.”

  “I spoke out of turn, Miss,” Suzanne said, humbled now that her fervor had passed. Or perhaps because she’d been pardoned from the fate Amber could not escape from herself.

  “No, you did not,” Amber said. She looked up to see sincere sympathy on the face of her maid. It nearly undid her, and she blinked back the emotion. “Will you attend me to Yorkshire if I convince my mother to help you find a new position upon your return to London? I shall see that you are financially compensated for the sacrifice as well. Perhaps you could send the payment to your sister so that she might procure additional help for your mother during your absence.”

  Suzanne held Amber’s gaze for some time, looking equal parts relieved and regretful. Amber sensed that she wanted to speak but did not know how to address her mistress now that they had both stepped over the unseen lines of station and address. “I will attend you, Miss,” she finally said, her expression softened. “Which dresses would you like me to pack in the small trunk?”

  Amber went to her wardrobe to look over her dresses and in the process saw the black coat that had hung there since Carlton House. She pulled it from the closet and looked it over with only a vague memory of the man who had given it to her.

  One man amid the hundreds gathered there had given her aid. A man Amber did not believe she was acquainted with, and yet he had been kind to her. She wished she knew how to return his coat to him and thank him for that kindness, but to try to find him would mean reigniting people’s memories of what his kindness had intended to hide.

  She was to disappear today, slip away from London and people’s thoughts, taking with her the shame and embarrassment she had brought upon her family and perhaps this man too—he’d have been left at a ball without a coat. Perhaps he would not want it back anyway after it had been about her head.

  She let out a breath and pushed the coat into the back of the closet before fingering through her day dresses and morning gowns. He was without a coat. She was to be without far more than that.

  Two hours later, Amber closed the curtain inside the traveling coach, not wanting to see London and all it symbolized fall away from her; not wanting anyone of her acquaintance to see her leaving in shame. She feared she would never come back, and yet she was relieved to be parted from the place of so much heartache. She rested her cap-and-bonnet-covered head against the cushions of the seat and spent the first five miles attempting not to cry. There would be plenty of time for that when she was settled in the country house—Step Cottage, her father had called it—in Romanby, North Riding, Yorkshire.

  Alone.

  Unattended.

  She could only hope she would not call this cottage “home” for long.

  Chapter 16

  They stopped overnight at the Crimson Shield Inn, arriving late and leaving early. Suzanne and Amber took their meals together in the room they shared rather than join the other guests in the coaching house. The proprietor said it was the finest room the inn had to offer, but it smelled sour and the sheets were rough.

  Once back in the carriage for the second day of travel, Amber could stand the silence no longer and asked Suzanne about her family. The maid was hesitant to talk at first, but Amber continued to prod her with questions until eventually Suzanne disposed of the one-word answers.

  Both of her parents had worked in service, but Suzanne’s younger sisters had married into the merchant class and were not employed outside of running their household and caring for their children, though her one sister did mending for a few gentry families. Suzanne’s father had retired five years ago after an illness left him unable to keep up his duties as a gardener of a grand estate outside of London. He died in his sleep the following summer, leaving their mother to work in the kitchens of a London house until being let go two years ago this August.

  “I fear she may not live another winter. The cold is increasingly hard on her.” She paused, then looked at Amber and forced a smile. “Which is why I must thank you for talking with your mother of my return to London. I could not bear being away from her or my sisters at such a time. The additional funds you procured will be of great help to them both, for which I thank you too.”

  “Your affection for them is a credit to all of you,” Amber said, not liking the reflection her own family cast through the prism of Suzanne’s. “I certainly hope all is well until your return and that perhaps the summer will result in an increase of health for your mother.”

  “As do I, Miss,” Suzanne said.

  Amber wondered if she would she be missed by her family. When she had parted the London house, her mother had given her a quick embrace and said she would come to Yorkshire when the season was over. Seeing as it was May, it would be several weeks until the gentry who gathered in London returned to their country estates. Perhaps by then her mother would have missed her and they could start afresh.

  A
fear nagged her that Lady Marchent wouldn’t come, but surely her mother would not abandon her completely. There was such a difference in age between herself and her brothers that she knew they would not notice her absence; they had always been kept to a different schedule as they were sons instead of daughters. It was Amber and Darra who had always been the most closely aligned, both in age and in their equal desire for the attention of their parents. Amber did not want to think of Darra right now. It stung to do so.

  “How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Amber asked, eager to keep Suzanne talking as it took her out of her own thoughts.

  Suzanne told of her endearment toward her sisters’ children, which brought another lump to Amber’s throat. Amber had grown up privileged and, in her mind, envied by the lesser classes she interacted with but rarely. The more Suzanne spoke of her family connections created through the affection they shared, the more envious Amber felt. Did anyone within her own society love their children the way Suzanne’s family did?

  Amber had never seen or experienced such bonds and began to wonder if Suzanne were making fun of her. She eventually stopped asking questions, not wanting to be made a fool of by believing such stories of parents playing with their children, or teaching them the skills of daily life without the help of servants. She struggled to make sense of the jealousy she felt toward Suzanne’s situation; she was loved and she knew it. Was Amber loved by her parents? Did she love them?

  As daylight began to slip away, they stopped in the village of Topcliffe. Amber assumed it was to change horses, and it was, but then she saw the groom talking with a man who he then brought toward the carriage. Amber shrank back against the cushion, alerting Suzanne, who leaned forward to see the men approaching.