Page 27 of His Duchess in Disguise
Mrs. Noddicott looked Emma over, straightened her collar and cap and pronounced firmly, “Clean apron. Then I’ll send you to dust the wainscoting in the hall. You should be able to do that one-handed, and there will be nothing you can knock into or drop.”
So saying, the housekeeper whisked away Emma’s soiled apron and bundled her into a fresh one. “Now mind you get it both high and low, and that you are quiet and unobtrusive. Silly songs are fine below stairs, yes, Mrs. Chambers told me, but when you are working above stairs, you must be as a part of the furniture.”
“Yes, Mrs. Noddicott,” Emma murmured, eyes downcast.
“Meek as a day-old lamb, aren’t you? I’m not so gullible as to believe that, Miss Smith. Nor am I completely convinced that you didn’t earn that bruise on your face. Now mind that you get the dust both low and high.”
“Yes, I mean no, I mean I’ll do my best, Mrs. Noddicott.”
“See that you do, girl.”
It was a relief to escape the dismal, dungeon-like precincts of the cellar and the ever-present steamy heat of the kitchen. The upper hall had a long wooden, carved panel that stretched from end to end and from floor to about shoulder height on Emma. It was carved with fanciful creatures in a fantastic forest, replete with stylized leaves, fruit, and elaborate birds. With her own hands, Mrs. Noddicott carried up a pail of steaming water, a stack of cleaning cloths and a folder containing several small brushes.
“There,” she said. “That should keep you busy for several hours if you do it right. Don’t soak the wood, just dampen the cloth. If the water gets too dirty or you need more cloths, you can use that bell-pull there, and I’ll send up more. Try to stay out of trouble.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Emma said, trying to decide whether to feel indignant or chagrinned at Mrs. Noddicott’s directions. Mrs. Noddicott pulled open the large drapes at each end of the hall, revealing tall windows, and then swept away on other business.
Emma began at the left end of the hall and soon became intrigued by the carvings. They were not just fanciful, they told a story. It began with what appeared to be some sort of tribal people and a man in long robes conferring together. Then they began to cut a road through the wilderness. Next, several scenes showed the men cutting stones from quarries. Strange, shaggy creatures that were three times as tall as the men were hitched to the stones, dragging them up the long road to a hilltop.
As she worked, she realized that this was some artist’s conception of how the huge stones out on the chalk came to be erected. At every stage of the journey, strange creatures came to assist with moving the stones. Some of the men were huge. Giants, she realized with fascination.
There were not just creatures and giants involved in the construction. There were feats of engineering, as well. She was just cleaning a scene where a giant stone was being tipped into a hole when she felt that she was being watched. She looked up to see that the Duke and Captain Arnault were looking at her.
“Are you enjoying the story?” the Duke asked.
“Oh, yes, Your Grace,” she breathed. “It is an account of how Merlin is supposed to have moved the standing stones. I think it is based on the account by Geoffrey of Monmouth.”
“And how would you know of Geoffrey of Monmouth?” ask Captain Arnault.
Too intent on the marvelous story unfolding under her dusting cloth to pay attention to keeping up her persona, Emma said, “I found a translated copy of Wace’s poetic account in a used bookstore. It wasn’t complete, several pages were missing from the back and front, but the part about Merlin and the stones was all there.”
“You can read, then?” queried the Duke.
“Oh, yes, Your Grace.” Emma glanced up from her work. “I love books. I often spent all of my allowance on them, quite forgetting to buy necessities like new gowns.”
Captain Arnault had a coughing fit that seemed likely to carry him off. The Duke reached over and thumped him on the back. “That’s a fearsome cough. Did you pick that up in France?”
“Got it when I came back to England,” the captain managed to wheeze out, before snorting and coughing again. He reached in his pocket, took out a handkerchief, and wiped his streaming eyes.
“Best ask your surgeon to see to it before you are called up for duty again. You wouldn’t want to give away your position at some point with an outburst like that.”
“I don’t think I’m in danger from this particular malady,” Captain Arnault managed to say, although he was still making suspicious wheezing noises.
Emma looked up in alarm, but before she could say anything, the Duke asked, “How is the hand, Miss Smith?”
“Sore,” Emma replied. “but healing, I think. Mrs. Chambers had me sorting fruit in the cellar this morning, then Mrs. Noddicott requested that I dust the wainscoting. I think she felt that I was unlikely to damage myself or the furnishings in an empty corridor.”
“I will admit that it seems unlikely for an experienced kitchen maid to cut herself slicing carrots,” the Duke commented conversationally.
“It was a very tough carrot, Your Grace,” Emma defended herself. “We only had very small tender carrots from thinnings, you see. They were much easier to cut. And I wasn’t a kitchen maid, exactly, it’s just that father didn’t want to part with funds for a housekeeping staff, so if I wanted to eat, I had to cook.”
“I see,” said the Duke, tapping the side of his nose. “I don’t suppose a butcher would have a great deal of money for paying a maid.”
“No, Your Grace,” Emma stammered, a little panicked at her mistake. “Begging your pardon, but I should get back to work. Mrs. Noddicott will think that I am slacking.”
The two gentlemen moved on down the hall, and Emma returned to her dusting. It took several minutes for her hands to stop shaking enough to brush the fine specks out of the crevices, and still more minutes to become entranced with the story laid out in wood carvings.
Emma loved stories, and the Arthurian legends were among her favorites. When she passed the building of the stone circle and came to the birth of King Arthur, she began to see a resemblance between the figures and the current Duke. Whether the likeness was real or her imagination, she cast the Duke of Menhiransten as Arthur and herself as a nymph flitting through the wood.
