Masqued Intentions

Part 1: Morning of the Masque

Emmaline

The window panes were inky black in the dimness of the small cottage. Still an hour before dawn, if Emmaline's internal clock was anything to go by. Sighing, she sat up and slipped out from underneath her worn quilts, using the light of the embers of the banked fire to guide her.

Time to start another day. A big day, at that.

Shivering, Emmaline quickly dressed and made her bed, braiding her hair in a crown over her head to tuck under her maid's cap. She would have to hurry if she was going to make it up to the big house on time. Building up the fire and starting some water boiling, she glanced over in the corner at the other narrow pallet bed in the snug space. Her father looked too small underneath the covers, too pale in the flickering glow of the fire. A year ago he had been a vibrant, energetic person, head groom of Worthington stables. Now he so weak he could barely sit up long enough to eat.

Watching her father waste away from illness was almost more than Emmaline could bear. She sometimes wished she could be around to care for him every day, but she needed to work at the big house to keep their cottage on the edge of the grounds and earn medicine for her father. Plus, working became a welcome distraction from his steady decline in the past few months. Still, her heart ached for his easy smiles and the way he used to tuck her into his side and kiss the top of her head.

She finished cooking a meager breakfast of gruel and biscuits, setting aside a plate covered with cloth for her father when he woke. Hopefully he'd eat it before it got too cold. After hastily eating her own breakfast, Emmaline fastened her cloak under her chin and left the cottage for the big house, closing the door as softly as she could behind her.

Pendleton House cut a majestic profile against the bluish dawn horizon, its perfectly manicured drive spreading in a semicircle before it. Home to the Duke of Worthington and his wife and daughter, the house went between the extremes of bustling with people and activity from one week to completely vacant the next. Even when the family wasn't in residence, there was plenty to be done to keep the house up and running. The staff had to keep everything prepared, knowing large parties of guests could arrive at a moment's notice.

Emmaline kept busy with a wide variety of chores when the house was empty, but her primary charge when they were in residence was the Lady Imogen, Duke of Worthington's only daughter. Keeping her room tidy, tending her fires and bringing her meals were among many of the things she did for her. Over time she learned Lady Imogen's habits so that she could anticipate when to do the cleaning or the types of foods to include in her afternoon tea. Not that she ever seemed to notice. However, that was sort of the point, Emmaline supposed. To blend in and keep the household—and Lady Imogen's life—running smoothly and seamlessly.

Letting herself in the service entrance, Emmaline made her way to the kitchens. "Good morning, Mrs. Fairchild," she greeted the head cook, hanging her cloak in the hall.

"Good morn', Emmaline," Mrs. Fairchild replied briskly, beating a dozen eggs and dumping the large bowl into a skillet, tossing several pinches of salt and other spices in. "Just have to get these eggs done, then everythin' will be ready to bring up to the lady."

"Lady Imogen doesn't like eggs," Emmaline replied with raised eyebrows.

Huffing, Mrs. Fairchild put the skillet in the coals to heat. " Duchess does, and she's concerned about the lady's const'ution."

Emmaline gave Mrs. Fairchild a knowing smile and busied herself with preparing Lady Imogen's breakfast tray while the eggs finished cooking. The duchess was always concerned with the diet of her family. While she herself had grown to become quite buxom in stature, her daughter's figure was lean and trim, like her father's. Most young women were envious of Lady Imogen's trim waist and delicate features, but for some reason the duchess was constantly trying to plump her up, to no avail so far. Still, when the eggs were finished Emmaline dutifully added a generous serving to Lady Imogen's already heaping plate before picking it up and heading for the stairs. "Thank you, Mrs. Fairchild," she said as she was leaving. "I'm sure she'll appreciate this, today of all days."