Eliza hurried away, her heart pounding. Even that brief exchange had left her unsettled, which was a theme in her interactions with the Duke.
Each time she saw him felt more intense than the next, almost involuntary, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. There was something about the way he looked at her. His gaze was curious, assessing. It made her feel as though he could see straight through her lies.
She shook the thought away and returned to the kitchen.
By her third day, Eliza had found a rhythm. She woke before dawn without a knock from Mrs. Dawson, dressed quickly and neatly, and reported to the kitchen for her day’s assignments. She dusted, polished, scrubbed, and fetched without complaint. Her hands grew steadier, her movements more confident with each new task. Even Mrs. Dawson noticed.
“You’re learning faster than I expected,” the housekeeper said as Eliza finished setting the table for dinner. “Most maids take weeks to master the napkins.”
“I had a good teacher,” Eliza said. “A patient one.”
Mrs. Dawson’s stern expression softened fractionally. “You’re not afraid of hard work. I respect that.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Dawson.”
“Don’t let it go to your head. There’s still plenty you don’t know.”
“Yes, Mrs. Dawson.”
As Eliza left the dining room, a small smile on her lips at the subtle compliment, she nearly collided with Miss Winslow. She was chasing after Arthur and Philip. The boys were laughing, dodging around furniture with practiced ease.
“Arthur! Philip! Slow down!” Miss Winslow called out, exasperated.
Oh, they enjoy this…Eliza thought as she stepped aside to let them pass.
Arthur flashed her a winning grin as he ran by. “Sorry, Miss!” he called over his shoulder.
“Don’t encourage them!” Miss Winslow said, though she was smiling. “Boys, back upstairs. Now.”
The boys groaned but obeyed then, thundering up the stairs to the nursery. Miss Winslow paused to catch her breath, shaking her head as she leaned against a column.
“They’re a handful,” she said to Eliza. “But they’re good boys. Just… energetic. Spirited, one might say.”
“They do seem lovely,” Eliza said genuinely.
“They are. Though I think they’re missing their uncle and aunt… They’ve been a bit out of sorts since we arrived just before you and His Grace.”
Eliza felt a pang of sympathy touch her heart. She knew what it was like to feel adrift, cut off from the rest of the world.
“I’m sure they’ll adjust,” she said softly.
“I hope so,” Miss Winslow said, smiling at her. “I’m sorry, my mind has been a bit all over the place. I know we met, but let me introduce myself. You’re the new maid, aren’t you? Ellie, right?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Well, welcome to Kirkhammer Hall, Ellie. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Miss Winslow. That is kind of you.”
With a nod, Miss Winslow hurried up the stairs after the boys, leaving Eliza alone in the hallway.
For a moment, Eliza stood there, listening to the sounds of the house. She heard the distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen downstairs, the murmur of voices throughout the manor, the faint crash of the waves outside in the distance.
It was strange. Lonely for her as she tried to find her place. And yet… she was safer than anywhere she’d been in weeks.
What would Abigail think of all this? What would she say if she could see me now, dressed in a maid’s uniform, scrubbing floors in a duke’s house? She’d probably laugh. Oh that laugh… Then she’d hug me, tell her she was proud of me for escaping.
Eliza blinked back tears and returned to work.
