Read Online A Perfect Secret by Donna Hatch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donna Hatch
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She’s in training to be a lady’s maid, so anything you’ll allow her to do will help her with that endeavor.” With another serene smile, Alicia left.
Genevieve sat up and swung her legs over but when she tried to stand, dizziness darkened her vision. She sat on the edge of the bed.
“Per’aps it’s too soon for ye to be gettin’ out o’ bed, miss,” Ann ventured.
“Give me a minute, and we’ll try again.”
Once the room righted itself and the grey fog around her vision lifted, she gripped Ann’s hand. Ann put her other arm around her. Only when Genevieve could stand steadily did they move to the dressing room where she bathed. Ann handled her as if she were made of glass and scrubbed her scalp until her hair finally came clean. Genevieve lay back and soaked for a few moments while Ann sat sewing.
After bathing, Genevieve sat patiently while Ann coaxed knots out of her unruly curls and wrestled them into a semblance of order.
“Just twist it into a simple knot, Ann.”
Ann looked disappointed. “As you will.” The maid coiled a chignon at the nape of Genevieve’s neck. “Oi! Ye ’ave such beautiful ’air. Now that it’s clean, it’s such a lovely shade.”
Genevieve smiled. “As a child, I was ashamed of my ‘carrot top.’ ”
“Oh, no. It’s ’most th’ color o’ cherry wood, it is. Verra distinguishing.”
Very distinguishing indeed. Which meant she could not stay here. Eventually he would learn she still lived. And come after her.
She must disappear into the night where no one would ever find her. She hated the thought of betraying her host and hostess’s kindness, but she’d probably have to resort to stealing enough money to flee. Somehow she’d find a way to repay them. Perhaps she could sneak back into Lord Wickburgh’s house and take her pin money. It should be enough to get her passage to Scotland and provide for her needs until she could secure employment—a governess, perhaps, or a teacher in a lady’s seminary. But she didn’t dare risk one of his servants finding her. He had a veritable army of ruffians he paid to do any number of unsavory activities, not the least of which was hold her prisoner with only her cat and, for a time, her canary for company. It had taken a miracle to escape. She’d need another miracle if she were to truly leave behind her life.
After styling Genevieve’s hair, the maid dressed her in a borrowed shift, stays, and stockings before lowering over her head a morning gown she’d hemmed while Genevieve bathed.
“Ach, the fit is all wrong and that color washes ye out,” Ann said with a frown as she fastened the buttons down her back.
Genevieve glanced in the mirror. The butter-colored gown, no doubt lovely on Lady Tarrington, seemed to drain all the color out of Genevieve’s already pale skin, and accentuated bruises she’d received from the debris-filled river.
“No matter. I’m not trying to impress anyone. And I’ll only go for a short walk in the gardens and then return to my room.”
Ann clapped her hand on her head. “Shoes. Ye haven’t any have ye?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Wickburgh ensured she never owned a pair of shoes in an effort to prevent her from leaving the house without his permission. The moment they’d arrived at his estate last month, he’d immediately burned the shoes she’d worn on the journey.
“Wait ’ere,” said the maid.
Ann returned moments later with a pair of Lady Tarrington’s shoes and placed them on Genevieve’s feet. Genevieve wiggled her toes inside the large shoes like a child wearing her mother’s slippers.
Ann frowned. “Those simply don’t do—they’re far too big. I’ve never seen such little feet.”
Papa had called her his little elf. Genevieve smiled at the memory. How she loved him! How foolish she’d been to believe him not only invincible, but infallible. But at least Papa and Mama remained safe. That knowledge lent her strength each time Lord Wickburgh
Genevieve sat up and swung her legs over but when she tried to stand, dizziness darkened her vision. She sat on the edge of the bed.
“Per’aps it’s too soon for ye to be gettin’ out o’ bed, miss,” Ann ventured.
“Give me a minute, and we’ll try again.”
Once the room righted itself and the grey fog around her vision lifted, she gripped Ann’s hand. Ann put her other arm around her. Only when Genevieve could stand steadily did they move to the dressing room where she bathed. Ann handled her as if she were made of glass and scrubbed her scalp until her hair finally came clean. Genevieve lay back and soaked for a few moments while Ann sat sewing.
After bathing, Genevieve sat patiently while Ann coaxed knots out of her unruly curls and wrestled them into a semblance of order.
“Just twist it into a simple knot, Ann.”
Ann looked disappointed. “As you will.” The maid coiled a chignon at the nape of Genevieve’s neck. “Oi! Ye ’ave such beautiful ’air. Now that it’s clean, it’s such a lovely shade.”
Genevieve smiled. “As a child, I was ashamed of my ‘carrot top.’ ”
“Oh, no. It’s ’most th’ color o’ cherry wood, it is. Verra distinguishing.”
Very distinguishing indeed. Which meant she could not stay here. Eventually he would learn she still lived. And come after her.
She must disappear into the night where no one would ever find her. She hated the thought of betraying her host and hostess’s kindness, but she’d probably have to resort to stealing enough money to flee. Somehow she’d find a way to repay them. Perhaps she could sneak back into Lord Wickburgh’s house and take her pin money. It should be enough to get her passage to Scotland and provide for her needs until she could secure employment—a governess, perhaps, or a teacher in a lady’s seminary. But she didn’t dare risk one of his servants finding her. He had a veritable army of ruffians he paid to do any number of unsavory activities, not the least of which was hold her prisoner with only her cat and, for a time, her canary for company. It had taken a miracle to escape. She’d need another miracle if she were to truly leave behind her life.
After styling Genevieve’s hair, the maid dressed her in a borrowed shift, stays, and stockings before lowering over her head a morning gown she’d hemmed while Genevieve bathed.
“Ach, the fit is all wrong and that color washes ye out,” Ann said with a frown as she fastened the buttons down her back.
Genevieve glanced in the mirror. The butter-colored gown, no doubt lovely on Lady Tarrington, seemed to drain all the color out of Genevieve’s already pale skin, and accentuated bruises she’d received from the debris-filled river.
“No matter. I’m not trying to impress anyone. And I’ll only go for a short walk in the gardens and then return to my room.”
Ann clapped her hand on her head. “Shoes. Ye haven’t any have ye?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Wickburgh ensured she never owned a pair of shoes in an effort to prevent her from leaving the house without his permission. The moment they’d arrived at his estate last month, he’d immediately burned the shoes she’d worn on the journey.
“Wait ’ere,” said the maid.
Ann returned moments later with a pair of Lady Tarrington’s shoes and placed them on Genevieve’s feet. Genevieve wiggled her toes inside the large shoes like a child wearing her mother’s slippers.
Ann frowned. “Those simply don’t do—they’re far too big. I’ve never seen such little feet.”
Papa had called her his little elf. Genevieve smiled at the memory. How she loved him! How foolish she’d been to believe him not only invincible, but infallible. But at least Papa and Mama remained safe. That knowledge lent her strength each time Lord Wickburgh
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