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Elizabeth smiled. It had not taken long for the viscountess to adopt Mr. Crawford’s and her penchant for calling the birds by name.
“You are correct, my lady,” she said. “That was Master Robin, and I do not think he has any cause for complaint. He has eaten more than his fair share this morning.”
The cheeky red-breasted bird tipped its head to one side and trilled his song one more time. Lady Langton laughed. “I believe he takes exception to your remark, Miss Doyle.”
“I’m sure you are right, my lady.”
The wooden bench situated beneath an arbor of white roses had been a perfect location to sit and listen to the birds sing. Elizabeth had spotted a dozen different species since they’d arrived in the rose garden almost an hour before and guessed that it would not be long before Lady Langton knew most of them by name.
“I thought I might find you here.” At the sound of the Duchess of Kelbrook’s voice, the few birds still searching for any overlooked crumbs took flight.
Elizabeth rose and bobbed a curtsy. “Good morning, Your Grace.” The duchess had been directing the last-minute packing and loading of her trunks when Elizabeth and Lady Langton had set off on their walk. It had seemed best not to disturb the her.
“Good morning, Miss Doyle.” Rather than seeming irritated for having had to seek them out, the duchess looked pleased. “I’m glad to see you have had success with the birds.”
“It’s been lovely.” Lady Langton stood and reached for her cane. “Unfortunately, I am assuming you are here to tell me the coach is ready.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Lady Langton nodded. “As much as I hate to see you go, it is best that you start your long journey early in the day.”
The duchess took her mother’s arm. “And it will be only a week before I see you again at Finley Park.” She turned to Elizabeth. “I hope I shall also have the pleasure of your company at my garden party, Miss Doyle.”
Elizabeth was shocked speechless. She’d heard the duchess and Lady Langton discussing the guest list yesterday. They had named more titled ladies and gentlemen than Elizabeth had ever heard before, and it had never entered her mind that she would attend herself. Truth be told, it was unlikely that she possessed the skills to serve such esteemed guests their food, let alone mingle amongst them.
“You are too kind, Your Grace,” Elizabeth managed. “I cannot say for certain where I will be next week. If Reynard returns with word of a position in the city, I might be gone from Langton before then.”
The duchess flicked her hand at such a trivial detail. “I shall speak with Reynard. I’m sure it can be worked out.”
Elizabeth bobbed her head. “Yes, Your Grace.”
They started toward the front of the house, Lady Langton on the arm of the Duchess of Kelbrook, with Elizabeth walking behind. Elizabeth touched her cheek. The swelling was down, but along with the discoloration she knew to be there, the lingering tenderness served as a faithful reminder of her life up until a few days ago. She was Elizabeth Doyle, the innkeeper’s daughter, and as gracious as these noblewomen had been to her, she did not belong in their world. It was best that she remember that, because any day now, she could be whisked from this magical life at Langton Manor to a life of cleaning chamber pots and fireplaces in London.
They rounded the corner of the large house and approached a splendid carriage standing in the driveway. Elizabeth hung back as Lady Langton said her goodbyes to her daughter. When they were finished, Elizabeth moved to take the duchess’s place at the older lady’s side so the duchess could enter the carriage.
“Godspeed,” Lady Langton called.
The duchess waved through the window, and with a shout from the driver, the conveyance lurched into motion and started down the driveway.
“Well, there we are,” Lady Langton said with a sigh. “The house will feel rather empty and quiet now.” She took Elizabeth’s arm. “But I have a wonderful diversion for us this afternoon.”
“For us, my lady?” Lady Langton was not making it easy for Elizabeth to remember her place.
The viscountess nodded, her faded blue eyes twinkling with the excitement of a well-kept secret. “I will be engaged with Mrs. Beecham for a little while, but once this week’s menus have been determined, I should like you to meet me at the duchess’s bedchamber. Shall we say one o’clock?”
“One o’clock,” Elizabeth repeated, hoping she did not sound as confused as she felt.
“Very good.” Lady Langton said. “Now, if you’d be good enough to help me to my rooms, I shall call for the housekeeper.”
***
Women’s voices came through the open door when Elizabeth approached the duchess’s rooms a couple of hours later. Pausing outside, she gave a light knock.
“Ah, Miss Doyle,” Lady Langton said. “Please come in.”
Elizabeth walked into the bedchamber. It was decorated in pale-blue floral wallpaper, with lace at the windows and draped across the posts of the four-poster bed. Gilded mirrors and landscape paintings decorated the walls, and large multipaned windows allowed in the light and warmth of the afternoon sun.
The viscountess was sitting on an upholstered chair facing the bed, where half a dozen gowns lay spread across the pale-blue counterpane. Standing beside a small stool in the center of the room was a young maid and a woman holding a large pincushion. Elizabeth stepped farther into the room, and the woman turned to face her.
