"Lady Madeley," the eldest of the women, a handsome woman of perhaps fifty with silver-streaked hair, curtsied respectfully. "Mrs. Duncan, my lady. It's an honour."
"Mrs. Hughes," said another, younger but still well past forty.
"Miss Fletcher," said the third, who appeared to be nearing sixty.
Eleanor looked from the women to Aubrey, completely bewildered. "I don't understand."
"These ladies were my mother's lady's maids," Aubrey explained, gesturing them closer. "I've asked them to come so you might interview them and decide which would suit you best."
Eleanor stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"
"A lady's maid," Aubrey said gently. "You've been without proper help these years. I thought it was time to remedy that." He smiled at her, and there was something almost nervous in it. "If you'll have them, of course. The choice is entirely yours."
"I don't…" Eleanor's throat felt tight. "I don't need a lady's maid."
"Perhaps not," Aubrey agreed. "But I'd like to lessen your burden. Even if just for Christmas dinner. You've been managing everything alone for so long. Let someone help you. Please."
Eleanor looked at the three women, who watched her with patient expressions. They clearly had no agenda beyond employment. No schemes or ulterior motives.
"Besides," Aubrey added, his tone turning slightly playful, "I have a valet. We should look the part together, don't you think? If we're to host your family for Christmas dinner?"
We. As though they were a united front. As though they were truly husband and wife planning their holiday together.
"Just until Christmas then," Eleanor heard herself say. "If that's acceptable to all of you?"
"Of course, my lady," Mrs. Duncan said warmly. "We'd be honoured to assist you for as long as you need."
Eleanor nodded stiffly. "Then if you'll follow me, wecan conduct proper interviews."
She led the three women from Aubrey's room, acutely aware of his gaze following her. When she glanced back, his expression was fond. Almost tender.
It made her chest ache in ways she didn't dare examine.
The interviews took place in Eleanor's bedroom, where she could assess each woman's skills with her existing wardrobe and discuss expectations.
Mrs. Duncan went first. She was competent, experienced, and had a dry wit that emerged as Eleanor asked about her previous employment.
"Lady Egerton is... particular about her appearance," Mrs. Duncan said diplomatically. "She prefers to rotate her lady's maids every now and then."
"Rotate them?" Eleanor asked, surprised.
"To keep her hairdos fresh, she says." Mrs. Duncan's lips twitched. "Though between you and me, my lady, I think she simply enjoys the drama of training someone new. Gives her something to occupy her time when Parliament is out of session."
Eleanor found herself smiling. "I see."
The other two women had similar stories. Lady Egerton's exacting standards, her love of the latest fashions, her tendency to change her mind about hairstyles mid-arrangement. They spoke of their former mistress with respect but also a certain rueful affection that suggested she had been demanding but not unkind.
When Eleanor asked about what would suit her best, the responses varied wildly.
Miss Fletcher suggested elaborate updos with false hair pieces. "To add height, my lady. And perhaps some ribbons? Young ladies do love ribbons."
Mrs. Davis recommended bold colours. "You're too pale, my lady. You need vibrant hues to bring life to your complexion. Crimson, perhaps? Or a rich purple?"
But Mrs. Duncan studied Eleanor with a thoughtful expression. "Soft colours, I think. Greys and blues and subtle greens that complement your colouring rather than fight it. And your hair should be dressed simply. You have lovely natural waves, my lady. Why hide them under elaborate arrangements? A few strategic pins, perhaps some small braids woven through to add interest, but nothing that overwhelms your features."
Eleanor felt something in her relax. Here was someone who saw her clearly. Who understood that Eleanor was not a canvas for dramatic transformation but a person with her own quiet beauty that simply needed to be... revealed.
"Mrs. Duncan," Eleanor said decisively. "If you're willing, I'd like you to be my lady's maid. For the Christmas season, at least."
