Page 56 of The Duke's Bride in Disguise
Was it possible that her mother had grown up in that house? It looked so cold and empty, despite the efforts of the servant to ward against the encroaching night. Though perhaps, she reasoned, she only thought that because she was ascribing her feelings toward Lady Darlington to the house, which resembled every other building on the square.
Everything was a muddle, she thought with a frown. She was no nearer to discovering who her mother had been than she was yesterday, and now that she and Kilbride had ended their engagement, she didn't have anything to look forward to. There was no giddy thrill at the thought of the ball, for what fun was a party when she didn't—not truly—know anyone there?
Not for the first time, Ava felt the weight of loneliness crashing down upon her. She had no one; Emily was in Kent, Kilbride had been pushed away, and Mr Hobbs had been taken away from her.
Her self pity had just reached its peak, when the door of the dressing room was flung open and Mary barrelled inside, moving so fast that Ava could have sworn the hounds of hell were on her heels.
"Oh, my Lady," Mary gibbered, so upset that she forgot Ava was no lady, "I had just turned off the square onto Whitechapel Street, when a big lout of a man accosted me."
"What?" Ava paled, rushing forward to take Mary's hands, "Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Why if he did, I-I-I'll-"
"Stutter at him?" Mary asked, with a wan attempt at humour, "No fear, lass, the blackguard didn't harm me. He said that he just wanted to pass along a message."
"What message?" Ava asked, her breath coming out in a rush.
"To leave the past well enough alone," Mary replied gravely, "Or there'll be hell to pay."
Lud, Ava thought, they must have really hit on something if Harriette was threatening them. When she said this to Mary, however, the Irish woman gave a huge, heaving sigh of annoyance.
"Don't sound so excited," she huffed, "It wasn't you who was threatened by the great big brute of a man. Besides, he's right. What's the point in dragging up the past, lass? You've found a family in Emily, don't you think it's time you told her to come home?"
Ava remained silent, for she knew that Mary was right. What point was there in trying to find out what had become of Lady Anna? It was clear that the girl had disappeared under suspicious circumstances, but the likelihood of her having vanished to give birth to Ava and Emily were rather slim.
"You're right," Ava said, with a defeated sigh.
"No. I won't broker any arguing," Mary began, straightening her shoulders as though readying for a fight; "You need to..Wait—what did you say?"
"You're right," Ava, despite herself, smiled at Mary's confusion, "I have been focusing too much on what I want, rather than what I have. I would like to know who my mother was, but whoever she was, I'm sure I would have loved her."
"Oh, my dear," Mary said, wiping a tear away from her eye, before pulling Ava into a bone-crushing hug, "How sweet you are. Your mother would have loved you dearly, of that I'm certain."
Ava felt the hot sting of tears threaten and perhaps Mary noticed the glistening in her eyes, for she gave Ava an extra squeeze, before letting her go.
"Now," the Irish woman said brusquely, "I'll want that embroidered onto a cushion, or perhaps on a sampler that I can hang on my wall."
"Err," Ava frowned in confusion, as Mary smiled mischievously, "What exactly am I embroidering?"
"The words 'you were right, Mary'," Mary said with a laugh, "You don't know how nice it is to hear that for a change—better than an ice in Gunter's."
"Well," Ava said thoughtfully, "There's no reason you can't have both."
"We've no time," Mary said sadly, "Not if we're going to fetch Lady Emily from Kent."
"We can wait another day," Ava replied, a smile lighting up her face, "Tomorrow, for my last day as Lady Emily, we're going to go into town and spend all my pin money, on all the things we've both always wanted to do."
"Oh, we can't," Mary replied, both aghast and excited at the same time.
"But we can," Ava said, not willing to take no for an answer, "Cakes, ices, stockings—anything that takes our fancy. Tomorrow, neither of us shall be servants, we shall both be ladies of means."
On that light note, Mary set about finishing Ava's hair and dress, before sending her downstairs with a cheerful wave.
"Don't dance too much, m'dear," Mary called after her, "You'll need your strength for traipsing up and down Bond Street tomorrow."
Dance? Gemini, she thought with a stab of fear, there was still one more obstacle to overcome before she returned to her life as Ava Smith.
"Would my lady care to dance?"
