One afternoon in early September, Sophie’s head lay comfortably in Eleanor’s lap as she dozed on the sofa while Eleanor was reading a book.
“Darling, are you going to attend your sister’s wedding next week?” Eleanor asked out of the blue.
Sophie opened her eyes lazily and sat up. Of course, she had thought about it quite a lot recently. The date of the wedding was drawing nearer, and she had fought an internal battle which had brought no solution to the problem.
Eleanor had been well aware of her struggle the whole time, but so far had restrained from bringing up the topic. There had not been much opportunity to do so if she was honest. Since their first night of passion, their focus was not on worldly issues. Sophie had spent every night in Eleanor’s bed making love or simply enjoying their closeness. Her belongings had been delivered from the hotel soon after, and she was now living as Eleanor’s partner in the palais as she would in London.
“I don’t know, Eleanor. One moment I think I should be there, at least as an observer in the background, and in the next, I think it won’t matter either way.”
She was pacing in front of the sofa now. Torn was the best way to describe how she felt when she thought about her sister. The hurt from Emma’s words still lingered, and she highly doubted the pain would vanish any time soon. What would the point be to attend the wedding ceremony when she was fully aware she wasn’t wanted?
Feeling guilty for mentioning the unpleasant topic, Eleanor tried to steer her lover’s thoughts away by saying, “I have been thinking, maybe we should go out for dinner this evening. Just the two of us.”
“Is that prudent, your Grace?” Sophie asked playfully as she sat down again. “What will people think?”
“Why should I care what anybody would think?” She waved it off with an elegant gesture of her hand. “If you’re worried about my reputation, we could ask Nonna to be our chaperone.”
“Do you believe that would be a good idea?”
“Would what be a good idea?” a woman’s raspy voice asked from the doorway. The mischievous twinkle in her eyes made Sophie shake her head. Eleanor’s grandmother was certainly one of a kind.
With a dramatic wave of her hand, Eleanor said, “My dearest love thinks it would not be so wise to ask you to be our chaperone this evening.”
“She might have a point, my dear. After all, I am known to voice my opinion without restraint. My dear Bridget often suffered a headache because of that.”
“I recall that Granny seldom held back with her opinion either. She was quite a sight to behold when she got into something.”
Giulia smirked wistfully at the memory of her beloved, her tall stance, flowing hair, eyes blazing, and her Scottish accent more pronounced than ever when she worked up a temper. The late Duchess of Darnsworth had been a formidable woman indeed. Yet at the same time, underneath her bravado lay a gentle soul with a tender heart, a combination that had captured the contessa’s heart right from the beginning. She sighed longingly at the cherished memory.
When she gazed at her granddaughter who was looking expectantly at her now, she could see a lot of Bridget in her. It had been the right decision to make Eleanor heiress of the title, never had there been a sliver of doubt in her mind.
“I meant no disrespect,” Sophie’s voice brought Giulia from her musings.
“Do not worry, my dear. I didn’t think you did. Where are we having dinner tonight?”
“Mrs. Kavanaugh, a word, please,” Benson softly called from the doorway to the housekeeper’s parlour. She was working on the books, and he hated to interrupt her concentration, but it couldn’t be helped.
“Of course, Mister Benson. Please, do come in! What is it you want to talk about?”
The butler carefully closed the door behind him. Even though he had known Mrs. Chambers so much longer than the Mrs. Kavanaugh, her temper was something he couldn’t handle very well. It was not above him to follow his employer’s example and take the easier way out of a dilemma. Benson gently cleared his throat before he elaborated, “It has only been brought to my attention moments ago that her Grace will dine out this evening.”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Kavanaugh said, flustered. “And I take it you are telling me this because you want me to break this unpleasant news to Mrs. Chambers?”
“Would you?”
“Yes, of course. You are aware that tonight’s dinner was meant as a surprise for her Grace. Each and every one of her favourite dishes will be served? You could have told us sooner.”
Benson felt chastised although it certainly wasn’t his fault. “I am aware, but I am afraid it was a rather spur-of-the-moment decision. Besides, I never thought this special meal was a good idea. We all know how much she hates surprises.”
“Yes, well,” Mrs. Kavanaugh said, “it was well intentioned. Hetty, Mrs. Chambers, thought it would be appreciated.”
“It can’t be helped now, can it?”
“Maybe it can. Where is her Grace at the moment?”
“Why? Surely you don’t intend to—” Benson bristled indignantly. “Mrs. Kavanaugh, you can’t be serious. This is . . . I strongly recommend you rethink it. This is most—”
“Mister Benson, please, calm yourself.” Mrs. Kavanaugh stood and smoothed her skirt. “It is worth a try, I dare say. I have come to appreciate her Grace as a very tolerant person. A woman of great dignity as well as consideration. I always thought her Grace to be quite a formidable woman, if I might say so. Most admirable, indeed.”
“Quite.”
“Well, then, where will I find her?” The housekeeper insisted, raising her chin defiantly at the butler.
“Drawing room.”
Mrs. Kavanaugh nodded curtly and swept out of her parlour. A determined woman. Her bravery was mostly a front but there was no point in telling Benson so. She had meant every word she had said about her employer. After many years of moving from one post to another, she had been happy to find a place in the Duchess of Darnsworth’s household. All of the servants were aware that this was one of the best places to be. At first Mrs. Kavanaugh had been weary, not of her employer but of the strained relationship she had with the cook. The thought of the volatile beginnings between Hetty and herself brought a smile to her lips.
Their fights were legendary, getting so far out of hand that her Grace had to threaten them personally with dismissal if they weren’t able to settle their differences once and for all. And settle it they did. The mere memory still brought a blush to Mrs. Kavanaugh’s cheeks. Hetty’s passion certainly didn’t end at her profession, much to her own delight.
Mrs. Kavanaugh’s cheeks were still burning as she crossed the hall towards the drawing room, earning her a peculiar glance from James, the footman, who was dusting a painting. Mrs. Kavanaugh shrugged it off and with a deep breath she knocked at the door to the drawing room and waited for her Grace’s answer before she entered.
“Your Grace,” she said respectfully after closing the door behind her. She nodded at the contessa and at the Countess von Hagendorf, wishing that her employer had been alone.
“Mrs. Kavanaugh, is something the matter?” The duchess beckoned her to come closer. “Are you all right? You seem a bit flushed.”
“Yes, your Grace, I’m fine. Thank you.”
She held her hands folded in front of her and attempt to look at the duchess and the other women with more confidence than she actually felt. “If I may, your Grace, Mister Benson just informed me that you will be dining out tonight.”
“Yes, is there a problem?”
“No, I was merely wondering, your Grace, if it would be too much trouble—and please do not think me presumptuous.”
“Mrs. Kavanaugh, there has to be a point somewhere otherwise you wouldn’t bother with this convoluted speech,” Eleanor encouraged patiently but resolutely. “So please, by all means, get to it.”
“I meant to ask, your Grace, if you would be so kind to reconsider your plan to dine out and instead have dinner at the palais?”
There, she said it. The expression on her Grace’s face didn’t show any sign of anger at her atrociously forward request, but the duchess frowned, her head tilted, clearly waiting for an explanation.
“Mrs. Chambers took it upon herself to change the plan for tonight and decided to prepare all your favourite dishes as a special surprise.”
“I see.” Eleanor’s expression brightened. She was touched, slightly irritated, but touched. “Why?”
When Mrs. Kavanaugh slowly shook her head without giving a reason, Eleanor gazed at her lover and grandmother, asking if they had any objection to a change in plans. They did not.
“Mrs. Kavanaugh, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to postpone our evening out until tomorrow.”
“Thank you, your Grace.” Mrs. Kavanaugh felt as if a mountain had been lifted from her shoulders. “Please, forgive my interference. I did not forget my station.” She bowed slightly as she backed up. “If you could be so gracious as to forgive this most unusual behaviour, it would be very much appreciated.”
“Mrs. Kavanaugh, it’s quite all right.” Eleanor shook her head at her housekeeper’s humble apologies. She really wished she would stop begging forgiveness now, so she changed the subject. “I meant to ask you, how is Countess von Hochstetten’s maid doing?”
“Quite nicely, your Grace. At first Josefine was rather shy, but now she’s doing fine.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear it. If there’s nothing else, Mrs. Kavanaugh?”
“No, your Grace, thank you.” The housekeeper curtsied and left with a spring in her step.
When they were finally alone again, Sophie could no longer contain her curiosity.
In an amused tone, Sophie said, “You cancelled your plans because your cook took it upon herself to change the dinner menu?”
“I know, I know.” Eleanor exhaled with an air of drama as she leaned back in her seat. “My mother would be outraged if she had witnessed this.
I would be lectured about what is befitting for a duchess, and the housekeeper would be dismissed instantly.”
“But since you are nothing like your mother, which we are most grateful for,” the contessa interjected, “you are touched by the gesture, although you hate surprises. You are addicted to Mrs. Chambers art of cooking. So, it wasn’t much of a hardship, my dear Eleanor, to cancel your plans, now was it?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, Nonna.” Eleanor sniffed with mock haughtiness but couldn’t contain her laughter when she saw the mirth on her grandmother’s face and the merriment on Sophie’s.
The following evening, Sophie’s acquaintance with Frau Sacher secured them a quiet table in the dining room of the hotel’s restaurant. Their waiter dutifully and discreetly took care of their wishes. The atmosphere was warm and cosy. Nobody was bothering them or spared a second glance at three women without male company. The duchess enjoyed herself tremendously; the conversation was invigorating and the food delicious.
Shortly after dessert was served, boisterous male voices from another table interrupted their tranquillity. Eleanor frowned at the disturbance, but she saw Sophie’s ears perking up with interest.
“What is it, darling?” Eleanor asked, intrigued.
“I think I recognise one of the voices,” she answered thoughtfully.
“Who—” the contessa started to say but was stopped by Sophie’s raised hand. She cocked her head in an attempt to concentrate harder on what was said. She realized how impolite it was to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, but since she’d heard her sister’s name mentioned, she simply had to know what these men were talking about.
“Yes, my dear von Bernthal, tell us about Emma von Hagendorf,” a male voice said, a leer in his voice. “Knowing you, I can’t believe you’re going to wait until your wedding night to get a taste of her.”
“You are talking about my fiancée,” the count answered with mock consternation before he chuckled suggestively. “But you’re right, my friend. It seems she enjoyed my little love letters I sent her over the summer.”
“Oh, do tell!” another voice encouraged.
“Nothing too forward, of course. Just testing the water, you know.” The count paused before he continued more directly. “Since I didn’t want to buy a pig in a poke, I decided to take it a little further.”
“And?” three exited men asked impatiently.
“Would you believe that after all the correspondence, she was playing hard to get?” Bernthal queried indignantly. “Told me she was a virgin, which she was. Imagine my surprise. Last Saturday in the stables of her father’s palais, I made her a woman. At the beginning, the little tart was trying to put up a fight, but she soon realised it was pointless. When we’re married, I’ll have to teach her obedience.”
“And you’re going to enjoy every minute of it, aren’t you?” the first man suggested gleefully.
“It will be most enjoyable indeed. So much to teach, so much to learn. Never spare the whip when educating a girl.”
As the last piece of conversation led to joyful laughter all around the count’s table, Sophie reached her breaking point. She tried to get to her feet but was stopped by a hand on her own. Eleanor’s grip broke through her furious haze. Sophie glared at her when she refused to let go.
Eleanor shook her head. “No! Not here, not now. This is neither the time nor the place.”
“But—”
“No.”
Sophie’s attempt to argue was cut short by a gentle squeeze of her hand and the insistence in her lover’s voice. “Listen to me, please. I’ll tell you what we’re going to do now. We’ll ask for the receipt, return to the palais, and together we will formulate a course of action.”
“Eleanor is right, Sophie,” Giulia said. “You have every right to be angry but barging in on them now will accomplish nothing. This whole issue must be tackled with a cool head, not in an emotional uproar.”
Sophie slumped in her chair, wiping away a tear of anger and frustration, but finally nodded in silent consent.
“Good girl. That’s the spirit.” Eleanor asked for the receipt and when the bill was settled, they left immediately. On their way back to the palais, the formerly festive atmosphere was dominated by icy silence. By the thunderous expression on Sophie’s face, Eleanor and Giulia thought it better not to engage her in idle chit chat even if it would lighten the mood. What was meant to be a pleasant evening had become a virtual night-mare. Sophie was closing herself off, leaving Eleanor feeling punished for something she wasn’t responsible for.
A distance had cleaved open between them that frightened her. Sophie was cold and unyielding and withdrawn into herself. Eleanor had no idea how to react to this.
Eleanor felt hurt when Sophie climbed the stairs to their room without waiting for her or expressing a word of goodnight to her grandmother. She was slowly growing angrier at the complete lack of manners and disregard from her.
“Don’t be angry, Cara.” Giulia stirred her from her reverie. “She isn’t herself right now. Sophie feels responsible for what happened to her sister. Just be attentive to her and offer your advice when asked, otherwise just listen. Be her friend, her lover.”
“You think that will be enough?” Eleanor asked worriedly.
“It is everything. Now if you excuse me. I think I will also retire to my room, and I suggest you do the same. Good night, Eleanor.”
“Good night, Nonna.” Eleanor kissed her grandmother’s cheek before she ascended the stairs to join Sophie in their room.
In the bedroom she found Sophie sitting on the edge of the bed staring at her hands in her lap. At the lost look on her face, Eleanor felt her heart go out to her. Silently she sat next to Sophie. Relief flooded her body when Sophie put her head on her shoulder. Eleanor dropped a kiss on her hair, wrapped her arms around her, and closed her eyes; waiting for Sophie to tell her what was on her mind. She wasn’t disappointed.
“I was so afraid that something like this would happen to Emma. But I had no idea how awful it would be for her.”
“We don’t know how Emma feels about this.”
“I know my sister, and she would not appreciate being forced. She’s still young. And stupid for that matter! I told her he was a beast, and she wouldn’t believe me. Oh my, oh my . . .”
“Go on, darling! I know there is more you have to get off your chest.” Eleanor encouraged her gently.
“I want to kill him.”
“I understand completely.”
“He needs to be stopped. I need to do something about this, so it doesn’t happen again.” She let out an anguished sob.
“We cannot do anything now, but we shall figure out something in the morning.”
“You have heard it yourself, love,” Sophie lifted her head from Eleanor’s shoulder and blinked with tearful eyes into compassionate blue ones. “This man doesn’t even care where he is or who hears when he’s boasting about the way he treated my sister and what else he has in store for her. And those awful friends of his. They were drooling over his story. And the derogatory way he spoke of Emma, as if she were nothing more than a faithful dog to be brought to heel. It’s disgusting.”
“What do you want to do about it? Because whatever it is, you have my fullest support.”
“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. She felt trapped in her helplessness. What could she do, indeed? Confront her sister and her father about tonight’s conversation? But would they believe her?
At the very least, she had to try. Emma’s wedding was taking place next Saturday, and there wasn’t much time to try to stop the insanity.
“Tomorrow I will go to my father’s palais and make him see reason. Maybe I can convince Emma to come with me.”
“Do you want me or anybody else from the family to accompany you?”
“Better not. No. I don’t want to aggravate the situation more than necessary.”
“All right, darling. But right now, we should go to bed. You will need your rest for the upcoming confrontation.”
“May I hold you?” Sophie asked softly.
“I would love that very much.” Eleanor cupped her cheek, brushing her lips over Sophie’s, conveying the love and affection she felt.
They undressed and took care of their nightly routine before they climbed into bed together. Sophie opened her arms for her lover and wrapped them around Eleanor’s shoulder. Eleanor put her head on her chest and sneaked her arm around Sophie’s waist before she closed her eyes with a blissful sigh.
Despite the dread she felt when she thought about tomorrow, sleep came easily to Sophie.
“Are you still mad at me?” Martin asked the back of Sophie’s head as they travelled to Palais Hagendorf. She had refused to look at him ever since he insisted on climbing into the carriage with her. Instead, she kept her eyes trained on the buildings they passed on their way.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked suddenly, startling him by her forcefulness. Her eyes were blazing with an anger boiling right under the surface. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. This has nothing to do with you.”
“On the contrary,” he dared to object vehemently. Martin saw that took Sophie by surprise. Gone was the mild-mannered young man she had come to know. His green eyes sparkled with righteous indignation as they had at breakfast when Eleanor told her family what they had witnessed the night before. Sophie had not been able to eat or to face the family, so she missed the indignation all of Eleanor’s family expressed.
“Emma is as much my cousin as she is your sister. And my parents have raised me better than to stand back and let something so atrocious happen to her. Respect towards women was one of the most valued lessons my parents taught me. I have to accompany you. The women in my family expect nothing less from me.”
“I wish I had met your late mother,” Sophie said softly. “She must have been an admirable woman. No wonder Eleanor mourned her for so long.”
“She was,” Martin said. “She would have liked you.”
“Thank you.”
“I have a request,” he said.
“Which is?”
“Let me be in charge of the conversation,” Martin said earnestly and before Sophie could object, he carried on. “It might be better. You are far too angry. Besides, your father doesn’t strike me as a man who would listen to reason when told by a woman. No offence meant!”
“None taken.” Sophie grimaced, but she knew what Martin said had merit. Her father’s view of women as being inferior would certainly not help the case. Because Martin was not only a man but also his wife’s nephew, his presentation of the matter might work in their favour. The most important thing was not that she win the battle with her father, but that Emma win the war with von Bernthal before it started.
“Martin, as much as I hate to admit it, you do have a point.”
Smiling, Martin said, “Glad you agree.”