The Earl's Keeper

Eleven - From Today Onwards

Zebediah clicked his tongue and urged the old cart horse into a trot.

'We there yet?' Mia called up from inside the carriage.

'A league left yet, dear!' He called back as the wind swept through his hair and the sun warmed his back.

London.

The goods to be exchanged in the city upon his advice. He had connections with a man that would give them a fair price. One that would see his small family through the winter easily. Zebediah smiled to himself. He finally had some form of contribution. It had taken an awful lot of persuasion to get John to come. The stubborn man had been dead set against the city. A strange darkness clouding his eyes at the mention of it. Zeb assumed it to be something reminding him of his deceased wife. One that neither father or daughter spoke of. A similarity betwixt the two men.

Zeb clucked and encouraged the horse as they headed for London. He would help them in the way they helped him.

Of that, he vowed.

~*~

'No, no, no!'

The next morning, Mia found herself being constantly yelled at. A minor problem when noting she was in a landslide of measurement tape, ribbons, loose materials, undergarments and overcoats. The French lady that had arrived almost at the crack of dawn paced before her restlessly, eying her up like one would do to a prize stallion at an auction. The so called prized stallion was currently occupied as she huffed and puffed and ploughed her way out of the growing sandpit of materials that threatened to ensnare her and drag her down.

The strange woman paced the countess' bedchamber with her skirts billowing out behind her. She massaged her temples and whirled around to let the new wife of the Earl meet her ire.

'Enough, Madame André!' She exclaimed as Nancy held her elbow to steady her. 'We have exhausted the list of what a woman could wear, and then some!'

Never in all her life had she assumed a woman of noble standing could need and want for so many articles of clothing. Why, she could clothe the entire town twice over on one fully equipped outfit. 'Honestly, it's armour disguised by pretty silk and bright colours', she huffed, taking a whack at the whale bone hoop skirt. It's prime role in providing a bloomed rigid structure outward from the hips to which one would rest their outer skirts over to appear in fashion to the ton.

Nancy stifled a giggle and mistress and maid shared a knowing laugh. Madame André pouted, her face pinching as sour as a prune. The old spinster French woman wasn't used to her services being criticised. In jest or not.

'Too fussy young one, tsk tsk,' the beautifully aged French lady tutted, waggling a bejewelled finger at her. 'We will make a woman of you yet, yes?' Her voice was heavily accented and sounded delightfully different to Mia who had never heard a foreigner speak, she smiled at the bitter irony.

She enjoyed the way the Madame would vibrate slightly on more words, or how her English would be overruled by her French on certain unfamiliar words. The woman had made no note or comment on her newest clients breeding, as opposed to what Mia was expecting her to do. She found the older woman was as eccentric as she was magnificent. A breath of fresh air.

'I like you a lot Madame, I propose you visit me more often here, or I to you in town!' She quipped as the lady ordered Nancy to fasten her new French stays closed, a visually stunning deep red silk damask that was half-boned. The mourning dress was swiftly trussed up, of unrelieved black with long sleeves, cloak and hood.

Madam André lips quirked into a ghost of a smile. 'I would need to visit a lady for it to be deemed proper instead of a boy playing dress up.'

Mia gasped, clutching her bosom in offence. 'Madame you insult me!' She grinned. 'I'd like to think my mother provided me with enough to satisfy your judgement of my gender,' she squashed her breasts together with both hands, before pushing them upwards, grinning cheekily, 'and a man!'

Nancy chocked on her own saliva as she tried to muffle her horror and laughter. Madame André raised a slender greying brow. Her lips twitching with renewed vigour. She slapped Mia's hands away from fondling her breasts and caught the wickedly amused gleam in those silver eyes. Truly, a beauty that cannot be appreciated in this time. She thought bitterly about the oppression of women, regardless of breeding here in England. Let alone a foreigner or worse, at the bottom of the pile, the half-breeds.

'From today onwards,' the older woman started, fixing a modest black beaded pin into the simple bun on Mia's head, 'no one shall deny you what you are.' Her voice dropped to a nostalgic whisper. Her eyes lost in a long forgotten memory.

Mia observed the peaceful expression on the woman's face. She really did like the Madame. 'An ingrate?' She offered helpfully.

Madame André snapped her eyes to Mia and tsk'd loudly. 'A beauty.' She snapped out. 'You ingrate.' She added as she finally smiled.

***

William could hear the lively banter drifting through the connecting corridor to his Wife's chamber. He sat by the desk at his window scribbling a missive to one of the local contractors for produce of the estates farms. He was surprised to note that a smile had worked it's way onto his face at hearing the faint dim sound of laughter. Her laughter. He knew it wasn't that old French crones. She'd probably crack if she dared try and laugh. And it wasn't Nancy, he knew what his servant sounded like. The girl had practically grown up as the unofficial ward of the house servants, and by extension, his father's. The old man certainly had loved the orphan chit dearly.

William shook his head clear. It was no business of his to be feeling this strange emotion bubbling beneath the surface over something so ridiculous as hearing her laugh. But he knew. Deep down, hearing the joyous sound had made him feel a thread of the same form of happiness; and he wanted it.

That and so much more.

He leaned back on the old chair, it creaked under the strain. The morning sun streamed in through the window and warmed his face.

This was going to be a long battle; and he was determined to with this war.

~*~