Things may have gotten quite difficult.
Chapter 4
“Audrey, didn’t Agatha assign you to clean the cupboards upstairs? Near the Duke’s bedroom?” Ana’s voice sung a stinging and rude refrain, her expression rough and haughty. Barging through the kitchen door, she startled Audrey with her loud voice; Audrey’s breath caught in her throat and she nearly dropped and shattered her glass across the tile floor below.
“I-I’m sorry, what?” Audrey stammered. Ana rolled her eyes.
“The cupboards, on the third floor. With the china. Did you forget to do all of Agatha’s assigned tasks? Where did you learn to do housework?” Ana scornfully replied. Audrey shrunk, buried under a mound of spite.
“Ana, I want to ask you something,” Audrey said, a glint of meek defiance in her eye. “What did I do to upset you so?”
“What? I’m not upset,” Ana snarled, clearly upset.
“You seem to be,” Audrey retorted.
“What do I have to be upset about? I’m working for one of the richest, most handsome men in all of England,” Ana scoffed haughtily. “I’m assistant to the senior steward of the house. If Agatha moves on, or stops working, or passes, I’ll be in a position to secure my relationshi
p with the duke,” Ana snidely commented. Audrey lofted a brow.
“Secure your... relationship?” the young redhead queried. Ana laughed.
“It’s not completely obvious to you? It ought to be,” Ana smirked arrogantly. “The Duke and I are connected. Closely,” she said smugly. Audrey, for once, didn’t feel like the most deluded or naive person in the room.
“Ana,” she said quietly, “you... has Ms. Agatha told you about... the Duke? About the things... the things he does?”
“What things he does?” Ana replied smugly. “Certainly, you haven’t let the prude protestants get into your ear, have you?” she sneered.
“The Duke is not... well, he’s a man who likes to take certain liberties with his staff,” Audrey said, repeating the same words her aunt had used, with the same wary sense of stilted, awkward caution. “Besides. He’s a nobleman! We’re nothing even close to nobility. Not like the duchess.”
“The duchess is just a distraction!” Ana roared, clattering a tray of dishes onto the counter with defiant anger in her voice. “She’s the one that... that Lord Parris takes to the balls. He told me how he really feels about me,” Ana murmured smugly. Audrey looked away, pensive. Maybe Ana was right, she pondered.
“I... I have to get back to cleaning the rest of these dishes,” Audrey’s voice quivered. Ana seemed satisfied with Audrey’s deferential attitude, and began to unload her tray of dishes, overwhelming Audrey as she scrubbed each quicker than the last, until she began to sweat from overwork.
“Where did you learn to clean dishes? These are still covered in grease!” Ana erupted, pointing out smudged spots on the gleaming china porcelain. Audrey sighed.
“Ana, please,” she murmured. “I’m trying as best I can. Don’t tell Ms. Agatha - or Lord Parris, please.”
“You needn’t worry. We can keep it between ourselves. Just keep your hands to yourself, yes?” Ana snidely threatened.
“I have no intentions of—”
Audrey couldn’t finish her sentence before the door creaked open, its hinges whining. There he stood - his seat flawless, his face beaming, his smirk broad. Caught off-guard, Audrey swallowed hard.
“I’m— L-Lord Parris,” she stammered.
“Good afternoon, sir,” Ana purred, sashaying through the cramped kitchen to the Duke’s side. He lofted a quizzical brow, his voice flat and serious.
“Hello, Ana. I have some work that needs to be done upstairs, in my bedchambers,” he announced.
“Oh?” Ana smiled deviously. “Did you come to gather me up, then? I’d be happy to help.”
“Actually,” Lord Parris said deadpan, “I had come to enlist Ms. Fisher’s help. I feel I need to instruct her on a few things about cleaning the estate.” Ana blinked. Audrey swallowed hard, feeling her heart starting to pound again. She could scarcely believe, nor understand, why he’d need her help - in his bedchambers. Doubt cluttered her stomach and made her feel sick.
“Wh-what? You want her help?” Ana struggled. “Why?”
“Are you questioning my orders, Ms. Rancourt?” Lord Parris regarded her skeptically.
“Wh- no! I’m... I’m just...” speechless, Ana staggered back and landed in one of the rough wooden chairs, stuffed into the corner of the kitchen.