"It is my pleasure, Your Grace. I have served this household for twenty years and I am at your disposal. If ever there is something you require or wish to change, you need only tell me."
"Your loyalty does you credit," Alethea said. The formal words of appreciation came easily, drilled into her by years of etiquette lessons taught at the nunnery for the day she might marry. "I shall certainly ask if any questions arise."
Mrs. Pritchard hesitated, then added in a kindly tone, "And, Your Grace, do remember you need not do everything at once. We all understand you are new to this role."
"You are very kind. I will keep that in mind."
Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Before either woman could respond, the door cracked open and a young girl's face peeked in.
"Pardon, Mrs. Pritchard," the girl said quickly, then her eyes darted to Alethea. "Your Grace. May we borrow you?"
Alethea recognized her as Clara, one of Oliver's younger sisters. Clara was but seven years old, if she recalled correctly. Behind Clara hovered another girl – Eleanor, the twelve year old.
Mrs. Pritchard started to frown at the impropriety, but Alethea raised a hand lightly.
"It's quite all right." She turned to the girls with a gentle smile. "Good morning, ladies."
"Good morning, Alethea—I mean, Your Grace." She stumbled over the title slightly. "We were hoping you might join us in the garden. It's a lovely day, and we've finished our studies early."
Clara bounced on her toes.
"We want to show you the newly bloomed roses and perhaps play a game, if you please."
Alethea blinked in surprise. In truth, the idea of a reprieve was welcome. But she hesitated. Play a game? She had scarcely played as a child. Moreover, was it dignified for a duchess to romp about? She cast a questioning glance at Mrs. Pritchard.
The housekeeper smiled subtly.
"The young ladies have the right of it, Your Grace. The sun is out and it would do you good to take some air. The household matters will keep until later."
Relieved at this sanction, Alethea nodded. It occurred only to her as an afterthought that she need not seek permission in the first place.
"Very well. I shall be happy to join you." She looked down at her attire, which was the simplest dress that she could find in her closet that morning. It would serve well enough for a stroll in the garden. "What did you have in mind?"
Clara pushed the door open wider in excitement.
"We were thinking of a game of graces, Your Grace. Have you played it before? We have hoops and sticks ready on the lawn."
"Graces…" Alethea echoed, trying to recall if she knew it. She had heard of young ladies tossing a ribboned hoop with rods to train elegance, but she had never taken part.
It is a ladylike game,she reassured herself,much better than, say, playing tag or climbing trees.
"I have not had the pleasure," she admitted. "But I would be delighted to learn."
Clara beamed and Eleanor clapped her hands lightly.
"Wonderful. We'll teach you, it's easy," Eleanor said.
With that, Alethea excused herself from Mrs. Pritchard's company and followed the two girls.
When they reached the garden, Alethea noticed two long sticks and a small wooden hoop decorated with pink and yellow ribbons lay waiting. She realized this must be the equipment for the game of graces. The sisters had clearly prepared for this.
Clara darted to pick up the hoop and sticks.
"You use two sticks to toss the hoop to the other player," she explained eagerly, handing Alethea two slender rods of polishedwood. "And the other tries to catch it. It's supposed to make us graceful, but it's also quite fun."
Eleanor stood a few paces apart on the grass.
"Clara, let Her Grace have the first turn. She's never played before."
