Becoming Countess, page 6
Slowly, Emma stood and crossed to close the door left wide open. She planned on wearing the cheery yellow dress for her arrival at Demmroch, but her mood didn't match the bright ensemble. She was tempted to simply wear the same green cotton dress, but after sleeping in it on the floor all night, it wasn't exactly suitable for a countess's first appearance at her new home. So with a sigh, she pulled the yellow dress from her trunk.
It was the dowager countess who knocked on her door an hour later. Emma welcomed her, but her smile was weak.
"Are you alright?" the woman asked her in concern.
"I'll be alright," Emma replied honestly.
The dowager frowned but didn't press her further. "We're nearly ready to leave," she said instead.
Emma nodded and followed her downstairs, two footmen carrying down her trunk. Oliver was already waiting in the saddle, a fierce scowl on his face, and Lord Farley was seated and snoring in his seat. Her trunk was strapped into place and a footman offered his hand to help the earl's mother into the carriage. Emma was about to follow when she heard her name being shouted from down the street.
"Emma!" Katy cried, hurrying toward them. "Oh, I'm so glad I caught you before you left!" she grinned. "Ronny and I wanted to thank you again for what you did for me, and for being so kind!"
"It was my pleasure, Katy," Emma replied, a real smile stretching across her face. Katy pressed a small package into her hand.
"We want you to have this," Katy said.
"Oh! No, I couldn't—" Emma tried to deny.
"Please," Katy insisted. She eyed the carriage warily, and Emma shook her head.
"He's asleep," Emma assured her softly.
"I really don't know how to thank you," Katy said again, grasping Emma's hands firmly in her own. "You were so brave, coming to my aid like that!" Katy patted the gift in Emma's hands. "It's for protection," Katy told her. "I think you will need it more than I," she added, eyeing the carriage again.
"Thank you, Katy," Emma said, tears stinging her eyes, then pulled her into an embrace. "If either you or Ronny ever need anything, please let me know," she told her. Katy nodded, stepping back to let her leave. Emma waved to her, then was helped up into the carriage. The earl didn't waste time, urging them onward. Emma unfolded the paper around Katy's gift in her lap as they lurched out of town, revealing a pendent necklace with the silhouette of an angel on it.
"Saint Michael," the dowager countess murmured beside her. "I wonder what it is she thinks you need protection from?"
Emma eyed the sleeping Lord Farley across from them and it did not go unnoticed by her mother-in-law. "It's a little complicated," Emma said.
"I suppose it is," the woman replied, giving her a knowing look. "St. Michael will protect you," she said, patting Emma's hand that held the necklace. Lord Farley stirred in his sleep across from them, prompting Emma to hastily clasp the necklace around her neck.
No one said much during the journey until they were within sight of Demmroch. Lord Farley pointed it out to Emma as they crested a hill, the castle and the little village around it nestled in the valley below.
"It's idyllic," Emma murmured in awe.
"And it is yours," the dowager said. "Yours and Ollie's."
Lord Farley sniffed haughtily in his seat but didn't say anything, and they both ignored him.
"I don't think I'm ready to run a place like that," Emma said. "I don't know the first thing about being a countess," she admitted.
"I will help you," her mother-in-law promised.
15.
Demmroch was at least twice the size of Montrellis and three times as grand. Everything seemed to sparkle in the sunshine as if the stones were made of silver. A wet moat surrounded the castle itself, the village clustered a half mile to the north. Lord Farley narrated about the history of Demmroch and other facts about the land, but Emma mostly ignored him, leaning as close to the open carriage window as she could to see her new home.
The gray towers struck into the sky proudly, bright banners with the Garrick crest emblazoned on them whipping in the breeze. Uniformed men-at-arms lined the outer wall stiffly, watching their approach. As they neared, a trumpet sounded from a tower and the drawbridge was lowered by thick black iron chains and landed gently on the opposite bank to allow them passage across.
Once inside the outer bailey, Emma watched as everyone hurried about, shouting orders and rushing to follow commands. She spotted the large stable, built against the inner wall, and a dozen liverymen rushing out of it toward the carriage and the rest of the travel party. Emma couldn't remember a time when Montrellis was ever so full of people!
"Welcome to Demmroch," the dowager countess said to her. Emma was stunned into silence by her surroundings and didn't answer. A few moments later a footman opened the door to escort the ladies out.
Once outside, the walls of the castle seemed enormously taller, making her feel puny and insignificant. Everywhere color was bursting like a meadow in Spring, and everyone was smiling and greeting the returning party with bright, shining faces.
"Your grace," a man bowed to Emma, and gestured toward the gate to the inner bailey where the rest were already passing through.
"Yes, sorry," Emma apologized. "I was just admiring everything," she grinned. The man smiled and gestured her forward, although she continued to crane her neck every which way in an effort to see everything. She made a note to herself to visit the stables as soon as she could, thinking of Vinny.
The inner bailey, or courtyard as they called it at Montrellis, was a large space. On the far end, the main hall rose three stories high, the family crest hung proudly above the large doors. Behind her was the keep where the men-at-arms stayed. A pretty chapel was erected to one side, twice the size of the little one where she was married, the stained glass windows sparkling beautifully. On the top step the priest stood in his black robes and bowed to her respectfully when she caught his eye.
Wide steps extended out from the main hall on which were lined dozens of servants, standing tall and stoic awaiting the approval of their new mistress. Emma's steps halted when she realized it was she for whom they waited.
"Emma," her mother-in-law said, taking her hand and tucking it into her elbow. "Come and greet the household," she encouraged. "They're eager to meet you."
One by one, the servants bowed and curtsied to her as the dowager countess introduced them. Emma's head spun with names and information, making her so overwhelmed she thought she might fall over before she ever got inside.
"And this is Trina," the woman said, stopping in front of a brown-haired, doe-eyed maid. She dipped a pretty curtsey, keeping her eyes fixed on her feet. "She is your lady's maid; she will help you with anything you need."
"Wonderful to meet you, Trina," Emma greeted. "I've never had a lady's maid before," she admitted. "I look forward to your friendship."
The maid's mouth dropped in a soft gasp of surprise, and Emma realized she must have said something wrong. Nothing further was said, however, and she was led forward to greet the rest of the castle's staff, clutching her mother-in-law's elbow a little more firmly in hopes that the woman's confidence and wisdom would transfer to her through their touch. The rest of the introductions were kept short, for which Emma was incredibly grateful.
"Oliver," the dowager called to her son. "I think you ought to show your wife to her room," she advised. "I think she's rather tired after everything."
The earl couldn't snub his new bride in front of his entire staff, so he forced a smile for his mother and took Emma's hand to escort her upstairs. Once they topped the stairs and turned the corner into the corridor, Earl Garrick dropped her hand, elongating his steps so Emma was forced to quicken her pace to keep up with him or be left behind.
"Oliver," she huffed, coming along beside him again. "Please let me explain last night."
"No explanation is needed," he replied gruffly, then abruptly stopped. "This is your bedroom," he told her, gesturing to the door behind him. "Trina will unpack for you later. If you need anything, ring the bell and she'll be along." Then he spun on his heel and strode away before she could stop him. Marriage was misery, alright, she thought, and it was barely two days!
The bedroom was as large and beautiful as Emma expected it to be, trimmed in creams and pale lavender and pink. The bed curtains were trimmed with gold thread and little pink rosettes, a motif that was carried through the rest of the room. The carpet was thick and luxuriously soft, muffling the sound of her footsteps. A large mirror hung over a polished vanity next to the open door of a spacious closet. Another door led to a pretty gold and cream wash room, the towels embroidered with little purple sprigs of lavender along the edges.
It was all incredibly feminine, and Emma couldn't deny its beauty, but it wasn't her sort of style. She would have preferred shades of blue with soft ivory and silver like the moon. But it would be rude to say anything, she chided herself. So when Trina arrived a few minutes later and asked her how she liked her room, Emma told her it was exquisite and far more grand than she deserved, which, she told herself, was the truth.
"Oh, your grace," Trina blushed. "Of course you deserve it! You are Countess of Demmroch! You deserve only the best!"
"I am no one special," Emma insisted, shaking her head. "Please, I'm not used to so many formalities," she said as she had to Katy. "I prefer Emma."
"Oh, I couldn't be so familiar, your grace!" Trina cried.
"Please?" Emma replied. "I could use a friend," she said. "I've left all mine behind at Montrellis."
"Oh, your gr—" Trina stopped herself, grinning at Emma like Lily did when she stole cookies from the kitchen. "Emma, ma'am," Trina said instead. "I'd very much like to be your friend, only –"
"Only what?" Emma asked curiously.
"It's not proper, your grace," Trina said, falling back into her formal habits. "I am just a maid, and you are a countess!"
"I'm a girl, same as you," Emma replied with a frown. "I hate corsets and love horseback riding and swimming in the stream back home. I've milked cows and climbed trees and helped a horse birth its foal once!"
"Oh my!" Trina exclaimed, her hand flying her mouth. "You really helped birth a foal?" she asked with wide eyes.
"I did," Emma laughed. "I was fourteen at the time. I brought her with me, too. Her name is Yvette, and she is all gray with one white sock. Do you like horses, Trina?" she asked.
The girl blushed and nodded. "I do, ma'am," Trina replied. "Mickal is – " she giggled.
"Mickal? Is he your beau?" Emma asked.
"Not exactly," Trina laughed. "I'd like him to be! He doesn't see me that way, though."
"Oh, I doubt that," Emma frowned. "You are beautiful, how could he not be in love with you?"
"You are very kind, ma'am," Trina blushed deeper. "Mickal only has eyes for Miss Juliana."
"Miss Juliana?" Emma raised her eyebrows curiously. "Who is Miss Juliana?"
"Miss Juliana is the late earl's charge," Trina replied. "Now under the care of your husband, ma'am," she added.
"I had no idea," Emma murmured. "He told me about his sister, Analissa, but he never mentioned—"
Emma paused, thinking over their conversation the first night and his slip of the tongue when he spoke of diamonds in velvet. He'd been about to say a name, and stopped himself, one that sounded a lot like the beginning of Juliana. Emma wondered what secret he was keeping about her, and what it had to do with the blackmail the baron was holding over his head. A lover's tryst? Or a lovechild, even? Or something else entirely? Questions rolled quickly through her mind, all of them unanswered. And they would continue to go unanswered if her husband continued to keep his cold distance.
Emma straightened her back and lifted her chin like her mother would've done. It was what she wanted, after all. An absent husband so that she could do as she pleased without a man making her even more miserable. She should be grateful that circumstances had driven him away from her. But she hated knowing he thought so ill of her when it was untrue.
"Your grace?" Trina asked with concern. "Are you alright?"
"I'll be fine," Emma answered with a heavy sigh. "I think I just need some rest."
"Of course," Trina nodded. "You've had a long journey. I'll return later to help you change for dinner, ma'am." The girl curtsied and left the room.
With the events of the last few days pressing on Emma's mind, she retreated to the window, pushing it open to reveal the picturesque view of Demmroch castle and the surrounding land. Below her the courtyard was still abuzz with activity, but beyond the walls the world looked peaceful and inviting. But sneaking out of Montrellis was one thing; sneaking out of Demmroch was quite another. With so many people everywhere and so many guards – not to mention the moat that effectively kept others out and everyone else inside – she knew it would be close to impossible to make her usual escape like she had at home.
"This is your new home," she reminded herself. "From now until forever. Best get used to it," she mumbled, then closed the window and curled up under the covers of the large bed. Sleep, at least, would bring her peace and comfort if nothing else.
16.
"But you must go to dinner," Trina insisted. Emma groaned and covered her head with the blanket again. "Are you feeling unwell, ma'am?" Trina asked, real concern lacing her words.
"Not exactly," Emma answered. Trina pulled back the blanket and frowned at her. "Can't I just take my dinner here?" she asked.
"Everyone is expecting you," Trina replied.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Emma moaned. "Everyone."
"The earl and his family are kind people," Trina said. "Why are you afraid of them?"
Emma thought about Lord Farley and Katy's warning and her hand fluttered to her neck to grasp the pendent. But she couldn't tell Trina her story; the girl was too innocent and too loyal to the family to believe Emma's tale of Lord Farley's deeds.
"I'm not scared of them," Emma bristled, then softened seeing Trina's surprised face. "I'm scared of myself," she admitted. "Of making a mistake. I'm not used to... all this."
"You never had dinner?" Trina asked with a small grin. Emma laughed. She liked Trina.
"I mean the fanciness," Emma replied.
"But you come from a fine, noble family," Trina said with a frown, not understanding.
"Noble, I suppose," Emma shrugged. "But Montrellis is a drab cottage in comparison to Demmroch! My father never cared for me or my whereabouts until recently when he realized I could be useful to him through my marriage."
"Montrellis? Is that your home?" Trina asked. Emma nodded. "Where you milked cows and climbed trees?" she asked with a grin.
"Yes," Emma chuckled. "My mother is an elegant, beautiful woman who would be right at home here," Emma said, gesturing to the grandeur around her. "I, however, am nothing like her."
"I'm sure that's not true!" Trina exclaimed.
"You don't know my mother," Emma muttered.
"You really must go down to dinner," Trina said again. She pulled the blanket completely off of Emma and tugged on her arm to pull her out of the bed. Emma respected her perseverance and so got out of the bed as requested. Although it felt more like a command, she thought with a chuckle.
Trina already began unpacking Emma's trunk, several dresses hanging and wrinkle-free in her closet. Trina began to divest Emma of her dress, but Emma wouldn't stand to let her do all of it.
"It's my job, ma'am," Trina reminded.
"I feel foolish standing here like a doll to be dressed and undressed," Emma retorted. Trina giggled, and offered instead to ready the wash basin for her. Emma agreed to the compromise.
The two of them worked in tandem getting her ready for her first official dinner as Countess Garrick. Emma talked Trina out of a particularly elegant gown in exchange for one more understated, though not as plain as her usual cotton garments – Trina inexplicably forbade her from wearing them to dinner. The dress she settled for was the color of plums and didn't require the uncomfortably cumbersome, wide skirt cage like her wedding gown and allowed for a looser cinched corset, Trina refusing to allow Emma downstairs without one.
"Just something simple," Emma pleaded as Trina began to brush out her golden hair.
"Your hair is beautiful," Trina said. "It would be so lovely with some curls and –"
"Please," Emma interrupted. "Just simple." Trina sighed, but did as requested, twisting it into a simple chignon without any extra accessories. Emma didn't want any jewelry either, leaving her ears and neck bare.
"You are lovely," Trina smiled when they were finished.
"The dress is lovely," Emma corrected. "Not me. But thank you, Trina, for your help. Any advice?" she asked hopefully.
"What would I know about being a countess?" Trina laughed, and Emma giggled as well. A firm knock on the door interrupted them and Trina hurried over to answer it and Earl Garrick strode into the room.
"I've come to escort you to dinner," he said stiffly.
"Isn't your wife lovely this evening, your grace?" Trina prompted, dipping a respectful curtsey to offset her impudence.
"They are waiting for us downstairs," the earl said, ignoring the maid's question. Emma's chest tightened. So he had been lying before when he called her beautiful, she thought. Why else would he avoid answering?
"Of course," Emma murmured.
She didn't take her husband's arm, nor did he offer it until they descended the stairs and into view of others. It was all a grand performance, she thought. She only had to play her part for a few hours and then she could disappear behind the scenes again. Maybe Trina could help her sneak down to the stables; the girl could see her Mickal and Emma could see Yvette. A familiar face that held no judgment or disdain would be a welcome sight. Emma held onto that hope, letting it strengthen her during the rest of the evening.
17.
There were two dozen people waiting for them in Demmroch's dining hall, each standing behind a chair and bowing and curtsying when Emma and Earl Garrick entered. The earl sat his wife at the end of the table next to his mother and sister then went to his place at the head of the table, gesturing for everyone to sit before taking his own seat.
