The Duchess's Daughters

Chapter 2

Hey readers! I won't be doing many of these "before the story" talks, so don't expect a lot, but I just wanted to let you know some minor things have changed in my story so far. (I applaude you if you've read this far, thanks so much, it means a lot. :) I've just changed like 3 or 4 things in the previous chapters, nothing big at all, like maybe a number, a color of a maid's hair, but those things bothered me, so I changed them. The only significant changes I made that I can think of is that Ella is turning sixteen, not fifteen, and she's a ginger, not blond. I'm not asking you to reread my other chapters, (you can if you want.  :D  ) I just wanted to let you know of some changes before you see me type 16 instead of 15, and comment about how I forgot my own main character's age!!   :)  Oh, and I apologize for any spelling errors, I haven't checked it yet. Sorry it's been so long since I've uploaded last, working on my pirate one to. Thanks guys, you're why I write!! Enjoy!

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   I wake the next morning, stiff and tired. Rubbing my eyes open, I find Adalice, one of the youngest and newest maids in the palace- only a few years older than me. She's tending the fire in my room, but turns to me, looking startled, as she must have heard me wake. When she speaks, she has a thick French accent. "A thousand pardons, Miss. D-did I wake you? Do you need anything?"

   "No, no you're fine, Adalice," I answer, and she instantly relaxes, turning back to the crackling fire. "On second thought, could you grab the drapes? It'll help me wake." I ask, and in a second, the maid is at the drapery, pulling it aside for me. The early sunshine floods in, temporarily blinding me in its brilliance.

   "Anything else, Miss?"

   "No, that will do fine. Thank you."

And with a nod, Adalice quietly leaves and my door shuts behind her with a 'click.' I lay in bed for a moment, savoring the comfort of the blankets around me, watching the dust slowly dance in the rays of sunlight shining in from outside. I hear the muffled clink of dishes and  murmer of maids conversing downstairs. I sigh and with stiff muscles, swing my legs over the side of my bed, blinking wide awake. As I stride over to my huge picture window I catch a glimpse of myself in my table mirror and let out a yelp as I see my hair,... that I'll fix it later..

Turning a latch, I push open the window, and a fresh morning breeze rushes in past me, along with the noises from outside. The trill of songbirds as they flit past my window, whinnies and snorts from the stables, the trinkling of fountains and the clip-clop of distant carriges fill my ears in a calming way.  My room looks out down the hill over the apple tree field and oak forest, the palace stables and pastures, and if I lean out far and strain to the left, I can see some of the cobblestone roads leading to the palace front. The palace lawn is dotted with fountains, gardeners and hedges, as the pastures are sprinkled with black, bay, grey and chestnut steeds grazing. I recognize Camelot and Black Jack standing relatively together, ignoring each other's existence, not a care in the world.

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   An hour later, I'm sketching a bowl of fruit into my sketchbook with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

   "Isn't this lovely?" My large art teacher, Ms. Reilyn asks, joyfully drawing the outline of an orange on her paper. Yes, I thoroughly enjoy drawing lifeless fruit in a wooden bowl for an hour. If possible, this may be more lovely than the glass of water we drew last week.

   "Yes, very lovely." I reply with as much excitement in my voice I can muster. We sketch on in silence. Before I know it, my gaze has drifted out to the window, at the rolling hills behind the palace, birds flying past. I sigh. I'm still hungry from the minute breakfast I've had with my mother this morning. She's not feeling better by any means, and I fear she is becoming ill. I must see how she is at tea...

   "Miss Doyle, you've forgotten the stem on your apple!" Ms. Reilyn gasps, quickly drawing the stem in for me. "There, that looks even lovlier, doesn't it?"

   "Yes, yes I suppose it does...."

   Dear Lord have mercy....

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    It's half past eleven when I glance at the clock while daintily sipping my tea. I'm sitting at a long oak table, while my mother and a few of her friends chatter and sip their drinks around me. At first, they asked me questions that I politely answered, cooing and cawing at my sweet, witty replies and how "ever so darling" I look, all while my mother happily smiled at me. But soon, they tired of me, and that's when the gossip started.

   "Did you hear? Lady Denby? The poor girl wore diamonds at an evening ball in Kent. She shan't make that mistake again."

   "There's an opera showing in Buckingham, I've heard it was wonderful."

   "I heard it was horrible!"

   "Did you hear the Queen is visiting Ireland?"

   "I heard it was Transylvania."

Did you hear this? Did you hear that? Well I heard... I swear, if these women suddenly went deaf they'd go bloody insane. I desperately need to get out of here...unless I want to stay at this gossip party; expected to act like a darling angel, never to speak unless spoken to, smile sweetly and reply with witty and impressive answers. It's really torture sometimes, especially when it's a sunny day outside, complete with horses to be ridden... Time for the actress inside me to come out.

   "Oh," I half whisper, shaking my hand just the slightest so my teacup trembles. The women miraculously close their mouths and turn to look at me. Mother looks so worried, I do hate to deceive her...

I put my cup down gently and hold my breath just the slightest, so my faces pales- a little trick Peter taught me.

   "Ella darling?" Mother questions. I close my eyes briefly and pretend to concentrate on breathing.

   "Is she going to faint?" I hear one of the ladies ask loudly.

   "Just light-headed..." I murmer, opening my eyes again.

   "Maybe some fresh air would do her well." another suggests.

   "Yes, yes, that would do fine, if you'll excuse me?" I say quietly, taking a shaky breath and nodding. The ladies all nod politely and I stand up.

   "Don't walk too fast." Mother frets.

   "Yes, Mother." I reply, starting to walk away, toward the parlor deck.

Only a few feet away, I hear them start the chatter again, and I catch a part of the conversation,

   "I say," one says, "they should corset these girls younger-dicipline is the answer..."

I scoff at this, and continue to head toward the parlor deck to send Peter a message.