Her voice was gentle and respectful in tone. As a result, the servants smiled, and a few hummed. Behavior the old lord would have marked as disrespectful. Robert admitted that he very much liked the change.
His mother glanced toward him as he entered with Madeline. “Robert. Miss Mercer. Your timing is perfection itself. There is so much left to do.” She paused as Winfield dipped his head to ask her a question.
“We have a chance to escape while my mother is occupied with Winfield,” Robert said to Madeline.
“Not a chance,” Madeline said. “I love to decorate and always helped my mother during the Christmas season. Besides, I have a feeling that if we tried to escape, your mother would find and scold us.”
Robert laughed softly. “I believe you are correct.”
“Please carry the tables and chairs into the assembly room,” his mother said in a cheery tone to servants carrying boxes into the entry. Please arrange the fir and pine trees in groups that reflect how they would appear in the forest. Candlesticks should be…” She paused her instructions mid-sentence, interrupting a parade of servants carrying boxes. “Daisy, are these the costumes I ordered from Mr. Potter?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Daisy said. The young woman with strawberry-blonde hair tucked inside her cap bobbed a curtsey as she held the box in both arms.
The duchess instructed the boxes be set down for her examination. “How exciting,” she exclaimed as she knelt and opened the box nearest to her. “I am anxious to see how the costumes I ordered for the guests attending the Masquerade Ball turned out. I was beginning to fear I had not given poor Mr. Potter ample money to hire the staff he needed to finish my order. He assured me, however, that I had, and was confident he could meet the deadline. But I worried, nonetheless.”
The duchess flipped the lid open, gently removing the tissue paper as she examined the contents. Her shoulders rounded as she sat back on her heels and shook her head. “These are all wrong. I specifically ordered that the costumes were to be lined.”
Wringing her hands, Daisy bobbed another curtsey. “I am so sorry, milady. I am sure Mr. Potter will be happy to make the adjustments to the garments at his cost.”
“Nonsense. This is not your fault, nor is it Mr. Potter’s. Mr. Potter has always been most dependable. I’m sure the fault lies with me. Mr. Potter is a lovely man with a wife, five children, and another child on the way. I do not want to trouble him. I am sure we can find a solution.”
“Your Grace,” Mary said, approaching. “I overheard that something was amiss with one of the deliveries. May I be of help?”
“The costumes Mr. Potter delivered were not as I had hoped. But perhaps they are not as troublesome as I suspect. Let’s have a look, shall we?” The duchess lifted one of the costumes from the box and held it up—the ribbons of light that streamed through the windows shone through the dress.
Mary gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, my stars. Without lining, the garment is as transparent as glass.”
“My fear as well. The ladies can wear a chemise underneath, and the men—well, they can decide. Actually, both men and women can decide what is proper. This will be better.” She winked. “Certainly, more scandalous.”
“Mother!” Robert said as he approached with Madeline on his arm. “What you are suggesting is scandalous. The costumes are…”
“Lovely. I quite agree.”
“That is not what I was about to say.”
His mother rose and patted him on the cheek. “Son, I am fully aware of what you were about to say. Now, to more important matters. You and Miss Mercer have arrived at an opportune time. We have much to do and I value Miss Mercer’s opinion.”
“Father would…”
“…would have disapproved,” the duchess finished. “Yes, I am well aware of your father’s opinion on such matters. I love you dearly, and I grew to love your father very much. He was a good man and treated me with love and kindness. But he was stuck in the past and wound as tight as his father’s watch. You have a choice. Take on the rigid mantle your father and his father before him wore, or forge your own path. I look on the Masquerade Ball as a way to move this family out of the stodgy past and into a new world with new and wonderous possibilities.” She patted his cheek again and resumed her task of examining the costumes with Mary and Daisy, as Madeline knelt beside them.
Robert stood in silence, mulling over his mother’s comments. He did not recognize this version of his mother. Before his father’s death, his mother had always been in tight control of her emotions, her hair perfectly coiffed and her demeanor and the tone of her voice modulated. In the past when his mother addressed the servants, her words were clipped, efficient, and distant in much the same manner as his father’s had been. She never inquired about their day or how they felt. While his father was alive, his mother would not have concerned herself with a shop owner’s expense or circumstances. Or perhaps she would have but knew she would have been overruled by his father.
It seemed this new behavior of his mother’s reflected her true nature, one Robert heartily approved.
His mother had asked him to choose. Would he continue with his father’s stringent rules that reflected those of the crème de la crème of society, or would he develop more tolerant ones of his own? He already felt a change. It had begun while he was in the military, where he witnessed inequality of treatment due to a person’s station in life. But he knew that, as the Duke of Conclarton, he might have resumed his pampered life if not for his encounter with Miss Mercer, who challenged him at every turn.
The world was changing, and like in nature, those who did not adapt risked extinction. England was no longer the power it once was. The United States had defeated England, in not one but two wars. As a result, America’s new ideas and world views were taking root in Europe.
He watched as his mother, Mary, and Madeline, sorted through the costumes as though they were old friends. They oohed and aahed at the sheer silk Greek-style costumes, the gold-colored jewelry, embroidered fans, headpieces, and gilded masks.
He remembered the day he had returned after serving in the military. His mother had hugged him, and with tears of joy brimming in her eyes, she had insisted he share with her everything that had happened to him. At the time, he had been taken by surprise, not knowing how he should react. If he was fortunate to have children of his own, he wanted to emulate her behavior. Yes, he liked the change in his mother very much.
“Mother,” Robert said, as he knelt beside her. “May I be of assistance?”
Startled, she looked up and focused as though only just noticing him. Her gaze drifted toward Madeline. Then she smiled a brilliant smile. “We welcome your help, dear boy. And Madeline, I will need your advice. I could not stop thinking of the portraitTriumph of Bacchus, by Michaelina Wautier, that your mother owns.”
Robert glanced toward Madeline. “Triumph of Bacchus?”
