“Hyde Park is always lovely in the evening, don’t you think?” Francesca said absent-mindedly as they washed clothes the next morning.
“Francesca, I do not believe that you have ever been to Hyde Park,” Evie replied.
Miraculously, the nasty headache that had been tormenting her had subsided overnight, and she was back to working. Double-time, her aunt had insisted, although she was never very sure of whether she had done so or not, and had punished her regardless.
Evie thus decided that she might as well remain in comfort.
“I have not.” Francesca sighed. “But I hear it is beautiful, especially tonight. They are to light candles for a string quartet.”
“I do enjoy those,” Evie mused. “It is a shame that I am recovered.”
“It certainly is, because those of importance shall be there. Great importance, I hear.”
Evie paused for a moment. Her friend, quite simply, did not sound like herself at all, and she did not know why that was. She sounded stilted and unnatural, as if she had been replaced by another young lady that looked exactly like her but did not know any of the things that she did.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked.
“Why would I be?”
“Because you have been doing my work for the past three days.”
“Yes, and I told you I was happy to do so, did I not? That still stands.”
“Of course, but perhaps after more than one day, it grew tiresome.”
“It certainly did, as by the end of it I was being punished too, but I am not angry with you for it. I am thrilled, if anything, because it is about time that you realized how capable you are.”
“Then why are you speaking like this?”
“I am not speaking in any way at all.” Francesca giggled. “I am simply notifying you that there is to be a string quartet in Hyde Park tonight and that people of importance shall be there.”
Suddenly, Evie understood what her friend was doing. After all, who knew who was listening in? If Imogen was feeling particularly nasty, it was not unknown for her to eavesdrop, and if Francesca was too obvious with her words, it would all be over.
That evening, after dinner, Evie took stock in her room. She was not to leave. She had been in enough trouble as it was, and even though she had completed her tasks for the day, she was not allowed to leave the grounds. Then again, Francesca had made it quite clear who was waiting for her in Hyde Park. Was he worth risking everything over?
Then she thought about how her aunt and uncle had made a point over and over that she was required in the household, and she felt something fall into place in her mind.
They could not rid themselves of her.
She was the only servant that did not need to be paid. She was the only servant who did as she was told when she was told to do it, all with a smile on her face, and they could still punish her if they wished because she owed them. She could not go anywhere, and they could not send her anywhere.
And so she escaped once more.
It would be one final time, she swore to herself, because it was all too close for comfort. She could no longer bear the thought of her aunt coming to give her orders, only for Evie to say the wrong thing and have her secret be discovered. It was frightening, and no matter how much she appreciated her friend she could not have her life become worse than it already was.
Not only that, but unbeknownst to him, he was to be her cousin’s husband.
“I was afraid you would not be coming,” he said softly when she arrived.
She found him at the entrance, and he was clearly looking for her. The sun had begun to set, and in the golden light, he seemed so warm.
“I almost did not,” she said with a sigh. “But I am here now.”
“And I am extremely glad about that. Now, just this way.”
The marquess led her to a secluded place just out of sight of the others in attendance. Even so, there were candles everywhere and a perfect view of the setting sun. It had turned a deep orange, and the sky was turning red.
“Shepherd’s delight,” she murmured as they sat on the ground.
“How do you know that rhyme?”
“My mother,” she said softly.
“You hardly ever mention her, you know.”
“I was very young when she passed. I do not remember much of her except for what my father told me. He did say, however, that we looked remarkably similar.”
“That must have brought him a great deal of comfort. It meant that when he looked at you, he could see her again.”
Perhaps it was because of the darkness that was coming, or because they were far away enough that she felt safe, or even because she simply wanted to, but she leaned into him. She pressed her head into his shoulder and breathed deeply, hearing his heartbeat loudly.
“I hope that I was a good daughter.” She sighed. “I wish that I had married before his passing, so that he would know I was safe. Then again, he knew I would be with the new earl, and so perhaps he was never too concerned about it.”
“Do you think he ever considered that you would be where you are now?”
“I am not too sure. If he knew he had debts, he must have known that they would be left for me to earn back. He must have known the sort of life he was sending me to. That is what has confused me so. My father never would have done that to me.”
“Perhaps he didn’t?”
“But he did, my lord. I am in the position that I am in because of something that he must have known about.”
“Evie, I—”
But the music began, and she pulled herself away from him and looked ahead at the musicians. He stopped speaking as she did so, and she was grateful for that. For one evening, she did not want to be her father’s daughter, who was a maid. She simply wished to be Evie, a young lady at a concert in Hyde Park with a marquess, a friend she liked a good deal.
After the piece of music concluded, the marquess turned to her and whispered.
“If you could do anything in the world, what would it be?”
Evie had no answer. Even when her father was alive, she would not have known. There was a lot to be said about her enjoyment of painting, but that was hardly an answer, and it was certainly not what the marquess wished to hear. He was asking for something grand and spectacular, the sort of thing that Evie could not even dare to dream about.
“I do not know,” she replied. “What about you?”
“Well, for someone in my position that can do anything that he wants, I suppose the only thing left for me to pine for is being a father.”
“You wish to have children?”
“No, I wish to be a father. There is an important distinction to be made there.”
“I do not understand.”
“Well, if I were to say I am in want of a wife, you will think of me as someone that wishes to own a lady. If I say I want to be a husband, you will think of me as a gentleman intending to serve his wife. That is what I hope to do. In the same way, I do not wish to have children in the sense of wanting an heir. I want to be a father so that I can be as good a father to another as the one I had.”
“I see,” she replied slowly. “So you would rather serve than be served?”
“Precisely, not that I could ever do what my father did. He was truly a man that could never be recreated. Nobody shall ever do as much good as a father as he did.”
“For the both of you?” she asked carefully. “You have a brother, after all.”
“He was a wonderful father to the both of us. The trouble came when my brother fell in with the wrong sort. They told him that our parents had only ever cared for me, as I was the heir, and over time he came to believe it. It was never the case, and he used to believe as much himself, but sometimes there is simply no helping people that do not wish to be helped.”
“It is a shame. I would have loved to have a brother or sister. It was lonely as a child, with only my father for company. Especially as he was so busy with his work.”
“I cannot imagine how you must have felt, nor your father. To be the only one to care for one’s child must have been frightening.”
“I believe so, but he did well,” she said with a smile.
“He most certainly did.” He nodded. “Now, it is your turn. I hope that I have inspired you enough. What do you dream of?”
Evie knew her answer, but after how profound the marquess had been, she did not think it was of any value to anyone, not even herself, as it was so out of reach.
But the marquess looked so kind, and she wanted to believe that he would not mock or ridicule her if she told him the truth. There was only one way, of course, to know for sure.
“What I want, more than anything, is freedom.”
He looked at her steadily, and from looking into his eyes she felt herself be grounded back into the world.
“We can do that.”
“There is nothing that you can do,” she sighed wistfully, “but sometimes, when I am alone in my room, I like to think of how my life could have been. I like to pretend that I am like my cousin, a young lady with the world at her feet and preparing for some ball or other like any young lady of my age and upbringing would. I like to pretend that I am like everyone else.”
“And what if we found a way to do that?”
“Then you would be nothing short of a miracle worker.” She smiled, relaxing once more.
He had not done anything to make her feel lesser-than. He had only made her feel even better about herself, even if it was a cruel reminder that her dreams would never come true. She had come to terms with that a long time ago, but it did not ease the pain she felt each time she remembered.
Unattainable dreams. That was what she thought of as she leaned into him a second time. It was not incredibly strange for her to imagine him as a husband and father, as she could tell that he would be wonderful as both, but she knew that once more, she was wanting what could never be.
It did not matter that he was handsome and kind and intelligent; he was a marquess, and she was a maid, and that was never going to change. He was another impossible dream of hers that she would be forced to let go of in time, whether she wanted to or not.
The marquess insisted on accompanying her home, no matter how much she pleaded with him not to. It was dark, and therefore unsafe, and he could not bear the thought of something happening to her when he could have prevented it. Evie did not argue too much at that because it was, indeed, dark. She was sure of the way home, but it was a frightening prospect, returning alone.
“Until we meet again,” he said gently, taking her hand and kissing it.
It felt as though her hand was burning, not that she disliked it. That was what made it that much worse. His lips were soft against her skin, and for once, she could not stop herself from wanting more.
“Goodnight, my lord.”
“Evie, before you go…I wanted to tell you that I am serious. I will find a way for you to have your freedom.”
“I appreciate it.” She smiled sadly. “But you will not. You might as well not even try.”
“Then it appears that you have never known a gentleman that wants something. Not a gentleman like me, that is.”
He rode off into the night, leaving Evie in the quiet to realize that she had not told him that she would not be seeing him again. She smiled in spite of herself, swaying a little before turning into her home. He was right about the last part, at least.
She had never met a gentleman like him.