They followed the maids up the staircase, the sound of their footsteps suddenly swallowed up by the thick carpet when behind her she heard the Duke’s voice sternly address his son.
“Kenneth? A word in my study, please.”
She swallowed, wondering just what it was the duke had to say.
* * *
“May I take your bonnet and cape?” Charlotte asked. Ruth undid the knot under her chin just as the footmen arrived with her luggage. They set the large leather portmanteau down on the floor that was lined with a plush red carpet and stepped through the adjoining door into Sophia’s chamber.
“It is grand, is it not?” Her sister called before appearing through the arched doorway. Ruth handed her bonnet and shawl to the maid who started transferring items from the portmanteau into the large oak armoire in the corner.
Ruth nodded; indeed, it was. The chamber was larger than her chamber at home. The bed was of the same style as hers, but the bed curtains were made of velvet with embroidery stitched along the edges. The walls were adorned with paper-hangings depicting garlands of jasmine flowers.
She entered her sister’s chamber and found her room much the same except for the paperhanging. It was ornamented with ascending bunches of roses, pearls of gold dotted along the sides. The bed curtains were made of brocade, but other than that their rooms were the same.
Molly, the older maid, turned from the armoire and glanced at Ruth. She had the same disgusted look in her eyes Ruth was so familiar with.
“Ruthie, how are you?” Sophia asked and Ruth knew at once what she was referring to. She shrugged.
“I did not expect this visit to be pleasant and it is not. I can only pray it will be brief. And successful for you.”
She was expecting her sister to fall into raves over how handsome the Marquess was, but she did not. There was a deep empathy her sister possessed at times, and it was this which kept her from falling into the fawning Ruth had expected.
She placed a hand on Sophia’s arm.
“I am a mite fatigued from the journey. I will rest awhile. Perhaps we can take the air after?”
Sophia nodded in agreement and turned back to the maid who was presently closing the armoire.
Ruth returned to her chamber where Charlotte had finished hanging her gowns, pelisses, and the one redingote she’d brought into the armoire. She was setting out Ruth’s few cosmetics on the dresser. Of these, she possessed far fewer than her sister. She did not bother with powders of any kind as they did not cover her scar and only caused her dryness and itching. Thus, the only items placed upon the dresser were her hairbrush, a container with lip salve, and a pot with charcoal.
“This is beautiful,” Charlotte said when she bent over her case once more to retrieve another item. Ruth looked over and saw she was holding her mother’s patch box in one hand. The box was made of porcelain and hand-painted with an assortment of flowers.
“It was my mother’s. A gift from my father on their wedding day. Could you place it on the mantle, please?”
Charlotte smiled at her. “A precious item, indeed.”
She walked toward the fireplace and sat the box down on top of it. It was then that Ruth realized there was something else in the room. Something she did not care for at all. Leaning against the wall behind the dresser was a hand mirror. She stepped toward it, making sure not to look at herself closely. It was a green and gold brass hand-held mirror, balanced against the wall.
She swallowed and considered asking Charlotte to remove it but then changed her mind. Ruth didn’t like to be looked at as feeble or weak, and a request to have the mirror removed might be taken as such. Having a mirror, even a hand-held one in a chamber designated for a guest was surely the Duchess’ way of showing their great wealth. Rejecting it would be considered a grave offense.
“My lady? Are you unwell?” The young maid asked.
Ruth looked up and turned causing Charlotte to take a small step back. Ruth blinked in confusion as to the sudden movement and realized she’d been standing in such a way as to show her good, flawless side to Charlotte. The sudden reappearance of her scarred left had to have taken her by surprise. She noticed the way the young woman looked at her now, not with malice but with curiosity. She knew what the girl was thinking and wondering.
“It was a fire. I was trapped in a fire when I was a girl. I was lucky to escape, but it has left me with this permanent mark.”
“I am sorry, my lady I did not mean to…” Charlotte’s eyes grew wide with mortification.
“There is really no need to fret. It is not the first time I have had to explain, and it will not be the last. Truth be told, I much prefer to explain than to suffer assumptions, as they lead to opinions being formed of my person.”
The young girl nodded then. “You are very kind. However, it was very rude of me to stare.” She paused and bit her lip. After a moment, she spoke up in a quiet voice.
“Does it hurt?”
Ruth was taken aback by the question. She was used to explaining what had happened to her face and she was used to the look of horror, and the silent whispers, but nobody ever asked her if it hurt. She shook her head.
“Not anymore. It is uncomfortable at times that is why I use the lotion.” She nodded toward the pot left inside the case. It was a special salve made for her by an apothecary in town. It often helped her feel better when there was discomfort.
