he had wanted. He slowly backed out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Chapter 6
Tuesday, April 26, 1814
Elenore stretched her arms high above her head before rubbing her eyes and focusing on the unfamiliar surroundings. For a moment she had forgotten where she was. It wasn't until she looked down on her black habit that all of the previous day's memories came flooding back to her at once. She reached up and pulled the dreaded veil from her head, freeing her thick locks from the irritating confines. Reaching up, she scratched her scalp before fanning her hair out on the down pillow beneath her. It felt good to finally be free of the dratted headpiece.
Staring up at the iridescent purple canopy above her, she lazily pulled the blanket, draped over her form, up to her chin, not in any hurry to remove herself from the comfortable warmth of the bed. That's when she noticed the blanket—she briefly wondered who had covered her, possibly a maid? The thought of a maid caused her to smile, for it suddenly dawned on her that her ruse as a nun allowed her the freedom to live her life without the constant supervision of a lady's maid or chaperone. She felt lighthearted at the idea of experiencing the freedom of solitude that being raised a proper young lady had yet to afford her.
Elenore's thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knocking on her door. She was loathe to get up but knew she would have to. Stumbling out of bed, she left her veil behind, as she made her way to the door. Pulling the door open slowly, she was faced with a timid looking maid.
“Excuse me, but the master wishes to speak with you.”
All of Elenore's fantasies of freedom crumbled with the reminder of her purpose for being at Westbrooke Hall. She might as well have turned in one state of captivity for another. Though she wouldn't be under the constant supervision of a lady's maid, she would be trapped as a servant to the insufferable earl, Lord Brat, as she had secretly begun to refer to him in her head, alluding to his infantile behavior. Before she had time to respond, the maid was scurrying away, anxious to move on to her next task. Elenore sullenly stalked back to the bed to retrieve her veil, not anxious in the least to see what dreadful chores Lord Brat would require of her today.
It didn't take her long to do her morning toilette, seeing as she was already adorned in her nun's attire and would not have to spend time dressing her hair. She rummaged through her valise to find the only other pair of shoes she had packed, a pair of slippers more suited to dancing then to everyday wear, but they would have to do. She slipped them on tenderly, noting her feet still protested in pain. She made her way slowly down the hall towards the earl's chambers, apprehensive about seeing him again. It was with reluctance that she entered the dark room. Clearing her throat nervously, she spoke, “You wished to see me, my lord?”
Lord Brattondale didn't even bother lifting his head from the pillows to glance in her direction. “I need my morning meal brought in at once.”
“Yes, my lord, will that be all?”
“For now. Now hurry,” he barked.
Elenore scurried out of the room and down to the kitchen where she retrieved a tray of food. Looking down at the plate she noticed a delicious looking cinnamon bun drizzled with sugar icing sitting on the plate next to three plump sausages. She glanced up at the cook questioningly. “Are you certain this is the plate prepared for the master?”
Tabitha hefted her broad shoulders in a shrug. “I'm positive, he requested the meal specifically.”
“Are you sure it's wise that he eat such food in his condition?” she asked, not wishing to be contradictory but baffled nonetheless.
“I'm not sure it's wise but he was adamant in his request. What the master wants, the master gets.”
Elenore nodded her understanding before scurrying off to deliver the tray. She desperately hoped he wouldn't insist she
Chapter 6
Tuesday, April 26, 1814
Elenore stretched her arms high above her head before rubbing her eyes and focusing on the unfamiliar surroundings. For a moment she had forgotten where she was. It wasn't until she looked down on her black habit that all of the previous day's memories came flooding back to her at once. She reached up and pulled the dreaded veil from her head, freeing her thick locks from the irritating confines. Reaching up, she scratched her scalp before fanning her hair out on the down pillow beneath her. It felt good to finally be free of the dratted headpiece.
Staring up at the iridescent purple canopy above her, she lazily pulled the blanket, draped over her form, up to her chin, not in any hurry to remove herself from the comfortable warmth of the bed. That's when she noticed the blanket—she briefly wondered who had covered her, possibly a maid? The thought of a maid caused her to smile, for it suddenly dawned on her that her ruse as a nun allowed her the freedom to live her life without the constant supervision of a lady's maid or chaperone. She felt lighthearted at the idea of experiencing the freedom of solitude that being raised a proper young lady had yet to afford her.
Elenore's thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knocking on her door. She was loathe to get up but knew she would have to. Stumbling out of bed, she left her veil behind, as she made her way to the door. Pulling the door open slowly, she was faced with a timid looking maid.
“Excuse me, but the master wishes to speak with you.”
All of Elenore's fantasies of freedom crumbled with the reminder of her purpose for being at Westbrooke Hall. She might as well have turned in one state of captivity for another. Though she wouldn't be under the constant supervision of a lady's maid, she would be trapped as a servant to the insufferable earl, Lord Brat, as she had secretly begun to refer to him in her head, alluding to his infantile behavior. Before she had time to respond, the maid was scurrying away, anxious to move on to her next task. Elenore sullenly stalked back to the bed to retrieve her veil, not anxious in the least to see what dreadful chores Lord Brat would require of her today.
It didn't take her long to do her morning toilette, seeing as she was already adorned in her nun's attire and would not have to spend time dressing her hair. She rummaged through her valise to find the only other pair of shoes she had packed, a pair of slippers more suited to dancing then to everyday wear, but they would have to do. She slipped them on tenderly, noting her feet still protested in pain. She made her way slowly down the hall towards the earl's chambers, apprehensive about seeing him again. It was with reluctance that she entered the dark room. Clearing her throat nervously, she spoke, “You wished to see me, my lord?”
Lord Brattondale didn't even bother lifting his head from the pillows to glance in her direction. “I need my morning meal brought in at once.”
“Yes, my lord, will that be all?”
“For now. Now hurry,” he barked.
Elenore scurried out of the room and down to the kitchen where she retrieved a tray of food. Looking down at the plate she noticed a delicious looking cinnamon bun drizzled with sugar icing sitting on the plate next to three plump sausages. She glanced up at the cook questioningly. “Are you certain this is the plate prepared for the master?”
Tabitha hefted her broad shoulders in a shrug. “I'm positive, he requested the meal specifically.”
“Are you sure it's wise that he eat such food in his condition?” she asked, not wishing to be contradictory but baffled nonetheless.
“I'm not sure it's wise but he was adamant in his request. What the master wants, the master gets.”
Elenore nodded her understanding before scurrying off to deliver the tray. She desperately hoped he wouldn't insist she
Similar Books
