The Season (Season Series #1)

Chapter 2: Highcastle Palace

The carriage rolled to a stop just outside the massive wrought-iron gates, waking me from one of the many naps I'd taken as the countryside rolled away to be replaced by cottages, then city streets.

"State your name and business," a bored sounding guard drawled from the guardhouse.

"Miss Elizabeth Marks-Whelan for Lady Eleanor Canterbury," Jonas said. The guard grunted something and the huge gates creaked open. Jonas urged the horses forward and we lurched through the heavy grey-stone archway onto the palace grounds. Heedless of appearances, I hung out the carriage window, leaning as far out as I dared to take in the sprawling grounds around us. Manicured lawns stretched for acres until the massive stone wall cut them off, encircling the palace grounds. The palace itself was a graceful hulk of a building with more windows than I could count. There seemed to be two sections, the first being the rather square five-storey front building. Behind that was a massive tower, the spires of which I'd been able to see all the way at the edge of the city, surrounded by various smaller towers and turrets.

The road arced through the grounds, finally straightening out into a tree-lined path wide enough for two carriages. A tall fountain dominated the area in front of the doors, a series of carriage blocks in a semi-circle adjacent to the carriageway. I craned my neck, trying to peer over the thick hedges that rose in a graceful slope around the road, hiding the rest of the grounds from view.

Two footmen and a maid had hastily assembled themselves by the center carriage block as Jonas pulled up to it. The maid, a woman whose grey hair and stiff posture spoke to decades in service, had difficulty masking her scandalized expression. No doubt my hanging out the carriage window like a ruffian had unnecessarily ruffled her sensible feathers.

"Miss Marks-Whelan," the most senior footman said, clearing his throat as he waited for me to back into the carriage so he could open the door without pulling me out with it. I ducked back inside and he tugged the door open, stationing himself beside it, a hand outstretched to help me onto the carriage block. Either he was far less sensitive to my antics, or he had a better talent at hiding it, because I ignored his hand and tumbled out the carriage, spinning in a circle to take it all in.

"Oh Jonas, this is glorious!" I almost shouted, my hands clasped together as my eyes raced to drink it all in. The maid was unabashed now about fixing me with a scandalized stare. I shot her a cheeky grin and dashed up the steps, rightly assuming that she was cut from the same fussy old cloth as Miss Halpern.

"Miss!" she protested, hurrying as fast as she could after me. The second footman took the stairs two at a time to beat me to the door, opening it with a curious glance my way. He was much younger than the first footman and his curiosity was evidence that I was clearly his first encounter with a lady who wasn't much of a lady.

I was unashamed of my wide-eyed appreciation of the palace, poking my head through the door to inspect the shining marble-floored entryway before a stern cluck from behind me snapped me out of my reverie.

"Miss Marks-Whelan," the maid said, drawing herself up to her full height in an attempt to convey authority, "Lady Canterbury and her other ladies in waiting are currently taking tea with the queen. I will see you to your room,"

Her tone left no doubt about the fact I was to stay there.

"Can you show me around the gardens?" I asked, dashing back outside to stare at the grounds. From this angle, I could see a smattering of brightly colored parasols across the lawn, somewhat obscured by the thick green hedge, while the soft sounds of music drifted on the breeze. As I was straining to see, I felt a sharp tug on my sleeve.

"That is quite enough!" the maid hissed, all but dragging me back inside. I pulled my arm back from her, massaging it.

"No need to be so brusque about it," I protested, shooting a glance back to where Jonas was helping the first footman unload my trunks. The second footman hadn't moved, but his expression was markedly more amused as he closed the door behind me.