Her mind returned to Winston, as though she were in his orbit. She dared not picture his reaction.
Will he shun me? Will he hate me?
Then another face rose before her mind’s eye, the woman that Cordelia had told her was Lady Amelia de Burgh. The woman Cordelia regarded as eminently suitable for her son. Lovely, poised, laughing with Winston in the sunlight. In the haze of passion, Adeline had thought herself the sole object of his desire.Now, in the clear and pitiless morning, she wondered if she had been merely a distraction.
Perhaps he sees me as nothing more than a dalliance.
A casual affair, while that other young woman with her smiling elegance was destined to be his Duchess. A Duchess untainted by secrets. The image of them leaning close, heads nearly touching, lingered in her imagination until it swelled grotesque and unbearable.
I have no claim on him. No right to jealousy at all. If he wants to associate with her then that is his right!
Jealousy gnawed at her all the same. Adeline resolved to find Louisa, if only to ground herself in duty. She searched the breakfast room, the music room, even the gallery, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Each empty chamber sharpened her unease until, at last, she discovered her young charge curled in her bed, pale and tearful, refusing to emerge.
“Dearest, whatever is the matter?” Adeline asked gently, kneeling by the bedside.
Louisa buried her face deeper into her pillows. For long minutes she would say nothing until, at last, in a trembling whisper, she confessed. “I think I am dying.”
Adeline’s heart seized. “Dying?”
Louisa nodded miserably. “I woke in the night with terrible cramps. And then there was blood. On the sheets. I am still bleeding. Something dreadful has happened, I know it. I am diseased. I shall die and leave Papa alone.”
Relief swept through Adeline so forcefully she nearly laughed. But she did not. She took Louisa’s hands instead, her voice low and soothing. “My sweet girl, you are not dying. What you are experiencing is entirely natural. You are not diseased. You are becoming a woman.”
Louisa blinked, baffled. Adeline explained, gently and delicately, what it meant to menstruate. She explained that this was a sign not of death but of maturity. Then she told Louisa that she, too, went through the same experience for a few days every month. And so had her mother and her grandmother. All women everywhere in the world, in fact. Louisa listened wide-eyed.
“Papa does not need to know, does he?” she asked.
“Not if you don’t want me to tell him. It is perfectly natural and there is nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed about, but it is your private business at the end of the day.”
“I don’t want to tell him,” Louisa said firmly, her face scarlet.
“Then we will not,” Adeline assured her, stroking the young girl’s hair and smiling. “But may I tell your grandmama?”
Louisa bit her lip. “She goes through it, too?”
“No, it stops when you reach a certain age. But she did when she was your age.”
“Very well.”
“And I will need to tell Mrs. Donovan so that she can ensure your bedding is laundered discreetly and you are given extra linen,” Adeline said, firmly.
“But not Papa,” Louisa emphasized.
“Most certainly not.”
“It hurts. I do not feel like I can go downstairs today,” Louisa said, holding her stomach and curling up in her bed.
Adeline stroked her forehead.
“Then remain here. I will tell your father you are suffering from a summer cold, and a day of bed rest is called for. We will see how you are feeling in the morning.”
Louisa, comforted at last, clutched Adeline’s hand with gratitude. When she finally left the child to sleep, Adeline’s heart ached. To leave Louisa now seemed impossible. She felt a maternal bond so fierce it made her throat tight. The thought that Louisa might one day learn the truth, that her beloved governess had been a fraud and a liar, was unbearable. It steeled Adeline’s resolve. Confession must come soon so that she couldmake her exit before the bonds with the family became too strong.
“Where is my daughter? Why is she not at her lessons?” Winston demanded.
Adeline was walking with Cordelia in the gardens, admiring the monarch butterflies that were fluttering around the rose beds. Cordelia raised an eyebrow as her son stalked across the lawn towards them.
“There are few things as arrogant and overbearing as an English gentleman in his castle armed with a feeling of grievance,” Cordelia whispered to Adeline.
