The afternoon sun peeked through intermittent clouds over Hyde Park as Emma and Brigitte strolled along the gravel paths. Brigitte’s mood seemed unusually buoyant, a delicate smile gracing her lips and a lightness to her step that Emma hadn’t seen in some time. She knew that her loyal maid had struggled to make the transition to their new home as much as Emma had in the beginning, but clearly she was beginning to feel more at east – perhaps also because she too sensed the change in the air between Emma and Evan.
Despite the soft breeze rustling the late autumn leaves, Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that her maid was distracted.
“You seem… happy,” Emma observed, adjusting her shawl as they passed a grove of trees. “It’s as though you’ve been carrying a delightful little secret.”
Brigitte gave a soft laugh, tilting her head toward her. “Do I usually scowl so much that my happiness surprises you?”
Emma chuckled. “Not scowl, precisely. But there’s something different about you. It’s as if you’ve been smiling all morning, even when you thought no one was looking.”
Brigitte shook her head, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh, Your Grace. You always read too much into things.”
Before Emma could press her further, their attention was drawn to the sight of Jeanne and Ophelia approaching from the far side of the path. Jeanne raised a hand in greeting as they drew near. Her warm smile was unmistakable, though her sharp eyes seemed to take in every detail. Beside her, Ophelia beamed at her friend, evidently as grateful to see her as Emma was to see Ophelia.
The two had managed to see one another on occasion, under the guise of going for walks. Jeanne and Brigitte arranged these meetings between the two of them, thought Emma was sure that Brigitte was glad to see so much of her cousin who’d lived in Italy with Ophelia for years.
“Emma,” Ophelia called and embraced her friend while beside them, the cousins did likewise.
“Ophelia, I am so pleased to see you,” she said while beside them, their maids greeted each other with equal enthusiasm.
“Well, well,” Jeanne said beside them as she spoke to Brigitte, each in their delightful French accents. It had surprised Emma that the two – thought both French – preferred to converse in English with one another, but she loved the way the language sounded tinged with their accents.
“Brigitte, you’re positively glowing. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d been struck by Cupid’s arrow.”
Brigitte’s cheeks turned a deep rose, and she lightly swatted Jeanne’s arm. “You’re insufferable, Jeanne. Must you always find something to tease me about?”
Jeanne grinned, undeterred. “Of course. It’s one of my greatest joys. Besides, I only tease when it’s warranted.”
Emma and Ophelia looked at one another and chuckled at the exchange between the two.
Brigitte narrowed her eyes but said nothing, her expression betrayed by a faint smile. Before Jeanne could needle her further, Ophelia intervened, stepping forward to link arms with Emma.
“Why don’t we leave these two to their sparring?” she suggested smoothly. “Come, Emma. Let’s find a quieter place to sit.”
Emma cast a curious glance at Brigitte as Ophelia steered her away, but her sister simply waved her off with a gesture that seemed unusually lighthearted. Jeanne’s low, melodic laughter followed them as they departed.
Once settled on a shaded bench near the Serpentine River, Emma turned to Ophelia.
Ophelia’s brow furrowed in thought. “What do you think Jeanne meant? About Brigitte?”
“I think it was an astute observation,” Emma said. “She does seem… happier than usual. Perhaps she’s grown fond of someone.”
“Who do you think it might be? I know Evan’s estate is large and he has many handsome employees.”
Emma tilted her head, considering the possibility. “I hadn’t noticed her taking an interest in anyone. But now that you mention it…” She paused, the memory of a recent ball resurfacing. “I think she likes Lord Weston. All the maids seem to.”
Ophelia’s expression turned serious. “Jonathan? Oh, Emma, I hope not. From what Evan has told me, Jonathan is the sortwho flirts without thinking and rarely means anything by it. If Brigitte is fond of him, it could end badly.”
Emma frowned, her worry deepening. “I’ll speak to Evan about it. Perhaps he can intervene before things go too far.”
Ophelia looked surprised. “You and Evan are on such terms now? Discussing matters like this?”
Emma’s lips curled into a soft smile. “Oh, Ophelia, so much has happened. Evan and I…” Her voice faltered, and her cheeks warmed. “We’ve reconciled. And yesterday… we kissed.”
Ophelia gasped, her delight unmistakable as she clasped Emma’s hands. “Emma, that’s marvelous! I’d secretly hoped for this all along. You deserve happiness more than anyone.”
Emma’s smile faltered, and she lowered her gaze. “I don’t know if I do.”
“Stop,” Ophelia interrupted firmly. “You mustn’t feel that way. If anything, I’m relieved for Evan. I never thought he’d allow himself to find happiness, let alone with someone so deserving. You’ve done what I never could have.”
