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I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own An Offer from A Gentleman.
LADY MIDDLETON'S SOCIETY PAPERS, 12 MAY 1817
Victoria Farthington swears that she saw Arthur Pendragon back in London. This author is inclined to believe the veracity of the account; Miss Farthington can spot an unmarried bachelor at fifty paces.
Unfortunately for her, she can't seem to land one.
Arthur had barely taken two steps towards the sitting room when his sister Catherine came dashing down the hall.
Like all the Pendragons, except for two other sisters...Morgana and Dorothy...she had thick, blonde hair and a wide smile. And unlike Arthur, her eyes were a clear, deep gray.
"Arthur!" she called out, throwing her arms rather exuberantly around him. "Where have you been? Mother has been grumbling all week, wondering where you'd gone off to."
"Funny, when I spoke to Mother, not two minutes ago, her grumbles were about you... Wondering when you were finally planning to marry."
Catherine pulled a face.
"When I meet someone worth marrying, that's when. I do wish someone new would move to town. I feel as though I meet the same hundred or so people over and over again."
"You do meet the same hundred or so people over and over again."
"Exactly my point," she said. "There are no secrets left in London. I already know everything about everyone."
"Really?" Arthur asked, with no small measure of sarcasm.
"Mock me all you want," she said, jabbing her finger towards him in a manner he was sure his mother would deem unladylike. "But I am not exaggerating."
"Not even a little bit?" he grinned.
She scowled at him.
"Where were you this past week?"
He walked into the sitting room and plopped down on a sofa. He probably should've waited for her to sit, but she was just his sister, after all, and he'd never felt the need to stand on ceremony when they were alone.
"I went to Lance Cavendish's party," he said, propping his feet up on a low table. "It was abominable."
"Mother will kill you if she catches you with your feet up," his sister said, sitting down in a chair that was kitty-corner to him. "And why was the party so dreadful?"
"The company." He looked at his feet and decided to leave them where they were. "A more boring bunch of lazy louts, I've never met."
"As long as you don't mince words."
Arthur raised a brow at her sarcasm.
"You are hereby forbidden from marrying anyone who was in attendance."
"An order I shall probably have no difficulty obeying."
Catherine tapped her hands against the arms of her chair. Arthur had to smile; She had always been a bundle of nervous energy.
"But," she started, looking up with narrowed eyes. "That doesn't explain where you were all week"
"Has anyone ever told you that you are exceedingly nosy?"
"Oh, all the time. Where were you?"
"And persistent, too."
"It's the only way to be. Where were you?"
"Have I mentioned I'm considering investing in a company that manufactures human-sized muzzles?"
She threw a pillow at him.
"Where were you?"
"As it happens," Arthur said, gently tossing the pillow back at her. "The answer isn't the least bit interesting. I was at My Cottage, recuperating from a nasty cold."
"I thought you'd already recuperated."
He regarded her with an expression that was an unlikely cross between amazement and distaste.
"How do you know that?"
"I know everything. You should know that by now." She grinned. "Colds can be so nasty. Did you have a setback?"
He nodded.
"After driving in the rain."
"Well, that wasn't very smart of you."
"Is there any reason," he asked, glancing about the room as if he was directing his question at someone other than her. "Why I am allowing myself to be insulted by my ninnyhammer of a younger sister?"
"Probably because I do it so well." She kicked at his foot, trying to knock it off the table. "Mother will be here at any second, I'm sure."
"No, she won't," he returned. "She's busy."
"Doing what?"
He waved his hand towards the ceiling.
"Orienting the new maid."
Catherine sat up straight.
"We have a new maid? Nobody told me about it."
"Heavens!" Arthur drawled. "Something has happened and Catherine Pendragon doesn't know about it."
She leaned back in her chair, then kicked his foot again.
"Housemaid? Lady's maid? Scullery?"
"Why do you care?"
"It's always good to know what's what."
"Lady's maid, I believe."
Catherine took all of one half second to digest that.
"And how do you know?"
Arthur sighed. He figured he might as well tell her the truth. The Lord knew, she'd know the whole story by sundown... Even if he didn't.
"Because I brought her here."
"The maid?"
"No, Mother. Of course the maid."
"Since when do you trouble yourself with the hiring of servants?"
"Since this particular young lady fairly saved my life by nursing me while I was ill."
Catherine's mouth fell open.
"You were that ill?"
'Might as well let her believe I'd been at death's door. A little pity and concern might work to my advantage next time I need to wheedle her into something.'
"I have felt better," Arthur said mildly. Then... "Where are you going?"
His sister had risen to her feet.
"To go find Mother and meet the new maid who cared for you. She's probably going to wait on Georgina and me, now that Mary is gone."
"You lost your maid?"
Catherine scowled.
"She left us for that odious countess, Lady Penwood."
Arthur had to grin at her description... He remembered his one meeting with Lady Penwood quite well; he, too, had found her odious.
"Lady Penwood is notorious for mistreating her servants. She's gone through three lady's maids this year... Even stole Mrs. Hanbury's right out from under her nose. But the poor girl only lasted a fortnight."
Arthur listened patiently to his sister's tirade, amazed that he was even interested. And yet, for some strange reason, he was.
"Mary will come crawling back in a week asking us to take her back on, you mark my words," she said.
"I always mark your words," he replied, "I just don't always care."
"You are going to regret that you said that," she returned, pointing her finger at him.
He shook his head, smiling faintly.
"Doubtful."
"Hmmph. I'm going upstairs."
"Do enjoy yourself."
She poked her tongue out at him...surely not appropriate behavior for a woman of twenty-one...and left the room.
Arthur managed to enjoy just three minutes of solitude before footsteps once again sounded in the hall, tapping rhythmically in his direction.
When he looked up, he saw his mother in the doorway.
He stood immediately...
Certain manners could be ignored for one's sister, but never for one's mother.
"I saw your feet on the table," Lady Pendragon said, before he could even open his mouth.
"I was merely polishing the surface with my boots."
She raised her brows, then made her way to the chair so recently vacated by her daughter and sat down.
"All right, Arthur," she said in an extremely no-nonsense voice. "Who is she?"
"Miss Roberts, you mean?" His mother gave him one businesslike nod. "I have no idea, except that she worked for the Cavendish's and was apparently mistreated by their son."
His mother blanched.
"Did he...? Oh dear. Was she...?"
"I don't think so," Arthur said grimly. "In fact, I'm certain she wasn't. But not for lack of trying on Lance's part."
"The poor thing. How lucky for her that you were there to save her."
Somehow, Arthur found he didn't like to relive that night on the Cavendish's lawn. Even though the escapade had ended quite favourably, he could not seem to stop himself from racing through the gamut of "what-ifs."
What if he hadn't come along in time?
What if Lance and his friends had been a little less drunk and a little more obstinate?
Gwen could've been raped... She would've been raped.
And now that he knew her... And had grown to care about her... The very notion chilled him to the bone.
"Well," Lady Pendragon said. "She is not who she says she is. Of that I'm certain."
Like his sister Catherine did moments ago, Arthur sat up straight.
"Why do you say that?"
"She is far too educated to be a housemaid. Her mother's employers may have allowed her to share in some of their daughters' lessons, but all of them? I doubt it. Arthur, the girl speaks French!"
"She does?"
"Well, I can't be positive," his mother admitted. "But I caught her looking at a book on Georgina's desk that was written in French."
"Looking is not the same as reading, Mother."
His mother shot him a peevish look.
"I'm telling you, I was looking at the way her eyes were moving. She was reading it."
"If you say so, you must be correct."
Lady Pendragon's eyes narrowed.
"Are you being sarcastic?"
"Normally," Arthur said with a smile, "I would say yes, but in this case, I was speaking quite seriously."
"Perhaps she is the cast-off daughter of an aristocratic family," his mother mused.
"Cast-off?"
"For getting herself with child, or for being born a bastard," she explained.
Arthur was not used to his mother speaking quite so frankly.
"Er, no, about getting herself with child, " he said, thinking about Gwen's steadfast refusal to become his mistress. "I don't think so."
But then he thought... Why not?
Maybe she refused to bring an illegitimate child into this world because she had already had an illegitimate child and didn't want to repeat the mistake.
At that, his mouth suddenly tasted quite sour. If Gwen had a child... Then, she had had a lover...
"Well," his mother continued, warming to the endeavor. "She has to be the illegitimate child of a nobleman."
That was considerably more plausible... And more palatable.
"One would think he'd have settled enough funds on her so that she didn't have to work as a housemaid."
"A great many men completely ignore their by-blows," Lady Pendragon said, her face wrinkling with distaste. "It's nothing short of scandalous."
"More scandalous than their having the by-blows in the first place?"
Lady Pendragon's expression turned quite peevish. Again.
"Besides," Arthur said, leaning back against the sofa and propping one ankle on the other knee. "If she was the bastard of a nobleman, and he'd cared for her enough to make sure she had schooling as a child, then why is she completely penniless now?"
"Hmmm, that's a good point." His mother tapped her index finger against her cheek, pursed her lips, then continued tapping. "But have no fear," she finally said, "I shall discover her identity within a month."
"I'd recommend asking Catherine for help," Arthur said dryly. And his mother nodded thoughtfully.
"Good idea. That girl could get Napoleon to spill his secrets."
Arthur stood.
"I must be going. I'm weary from the road and would like to get home," he said.
"You can always avail yourself here," his mother offered.
He gave her a half smile, knowing she liked nothing better than to have her children close at hand...
"I need to get back to my own lodgings," he said, leaning down and dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Thank you for finding a position for Guinevere."
"Miss Roberts, you mean?" his mother asked, her lips curving slyly.
"Gwen, Guinevere, Miss Roberts... Whatever you wish to call her," he said, feigning indifference.
When he left, he did not see his mother smiling broadly at his back.
Gwen knew that she should not allow herself to grow too comfortable at Pendragon House. She would, after all, be leaving just as soon as she could make the arrangements.
But as she looked around her room...which was surely the nicest any servant had ever been assigned...and thought about Lady Pendragon's friendly manner and easy smile, she just couldn't help wishing that she could stay forever.
But that was impossible...
She knew that as well as she knew that her name was Guinevere Roberts... Not Guinevere Worthington.
First and foremost, there was always the danger that she'd come into contact with the countess, especially now that Lady Pendragon had elevated her from housemaid to lady's maid.
A lady's maid might, for example, find herself acting as a chaperone or escort on outings outside the house... Outings to places where the countess and her girls might choose to frequent.
And she had no doubt that the woman would find a way to make her life a living hell... She had no doubt that she would lie, cheat and steal just to make her situation more difficult.
The countess hated her in a way that defied reason and went beyond emotion. And if she saw her in London, she would not be content simply to ignore her.
She hated her that much.
But if Gwen was to be honest with herself, the true reason she could not remain in London was not the countess... It was Arthur.
How could she avoid him when she lived in his mother's household?
She was furious with him right now... Beyond furious, in all truth. But she knew deep down, that anger could only be short-lived.
How could she resist him day in and day out when the mere sight of him made her weak with longing?
Someday soon he'd smile at her... One of those beautiful, wide sorts of smiles, and she'd find herself clutching on to the furniture, just to keep herself from melting into a pathetic pool on the floor.
She'd fallen in love with the wrong man... She could never have him on her terms, and she refused to go to him on his.
It was hopeless.
Gwen was saved from any further depressing thoughts by a brisk knock on her door.
When she called out, "Yes?" the door opened, and Lady Pendragon entered the room.
She immediately jumped to her feet and bobbed a curtsy.
"Was there anything you needed, my lady?" she asked.
"No, not at all," Lady Pendragon replied. "I was merely checking to see if you were getting settled in. Is there anything I can get for you?"
Gwen blinked...
Lady Pendragon was asking her if she needed anything? Rather the reverse of the usual lady-servant relationship?
"Er, no thank you," she said. "I would be happy to get something for you, though."
Lady Pendragon waved her offer way.
"No need. You shouldn't feel you have to do anything for us today. I'd much prefer that you get yourself settled in first, so that you do not feel distracted when you begin."
At that, Gwen cast her eyes towards her small bag.
"I don't have much to unpack. Truly, I should be happy to begin work immediately."
"Nonsense! It's already nearly the end of the day, and we are not planning to go out this evening, anyway. The girls and I have made do with only one lady's maid for the past week; we shall certainly survive for one more night."
But..."
Lady Pendragon smiled.
"No arguments, if you please. One last day free is the least I can do after you saved my son.
"I did very little," Gwen said. "He would've been fine without me."
"Nonetheless, you aided him when he needed help, and for that I am in your debt."
"It was my pleasure," Gwen replied. "It was the very least I owed him after what he did for me."
Then, to her great surprise, Lady Pendragon walked forward and sat down in the chair behind the writing desk in her room.
Writing desk!
She was still trying fathom that.
What maid had ever been blessed with a writing desk?
"So tell me, Gwen," Lady Pendragon said with a winning smile... One that instantly reminded her of Arthur's easy grin. "Where are you from?"
"East Anglia, originally," she replied, seeing no reason to lie. She knew the Pendragons were from Kent; so it was unlikely that Lady Pendragon would be familiar with Norfolk, where she had grown up. "Not so very far from Sandringham, if you know where that is."
"I do indeed," Lady Pendragon said. "I haven't been, but I've heard that it is a lovely building."
Gwen nodded.
"It is, quite. Of course, I've never been inside. But the exterior is beautiful."
"Where did your mother work?"
"Blackheath Hall," she replied, the lie slipping easily off her tongue. She'd been asked that question often enough and had long since settled upon a name for her fictional home. "Are you familiar with it?"
Lady Pendragon's brow furrowed.
"No, I don't believe so."
"A bit north of Swaffham."
Lady Pendragon shook her head.
"No, I do not know it."
Gwen gave her a gentle smile.
"Not many people do."
"I see. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
Gwen was a bit unused to an employer wanting to know so much about her personal background. Usually, all they cared about was her employment record and her references.
"No," she said. "There was only me."
"Ah, well, at least you had the company of the girls with whom you shared lessons. That must've been nice for you."
"It was good fun," Gwen lied. In all truth, studying with Victoria and Penelope had been sheer torture.
She'd much preferred lessons when she'd been alone with her governess, before they'd come to live at Penwood Park.
"I must say, it was very generous of your mother's employers... I'm sorry," Lady Pendragon interrupted herself, her brow furrowing. "What did you say their name was?"
"Richmond."
Mrs. Pendragon's forehead wrinkled again.
"I'm not familiar with them."
"They don't often come to London."
"Ah, well, that explains it," she said. "But as I was saying, it was very generous of them to allow you to share in their daughters' lessons. What did you study?"
Gwen froze, not sure whether she was being interrogated or if Lady Pendragon was truly interested. Because no one had ever cared to delve so deeply into the faux background she had created for herself.
"Er, the usual subjects," she hedged. "Arithmetic and literature. History, a bit of mythology and French."
"French?" Lady Pendragon asked, looking quite surprised. "How interesting. French tutors can be very dear."
"The governess spoke French," Gwen explained. "So it didn't cost any extra."
"How is your French?"
Gwen wasn't about to tell her the truth and say that it was perfect... Or almost perfect...since she'd gotten out of practice these past few years and lost a bit of her fluency.
"It's tolerable," she said. "Good enough to pass for a French maid, if that's what you desire."
"Oh, no," Lady Pendragon said, laughing merrily. "Heavens, no! I know it is all the rage to have French maids, but I would never ask you to go about your chores trying to remember to speak with a French accent."
"That's very thoughtful of you," Gwen said, trying not to let her suspicion show on her face. She was sure that Lady Pendragon was a nice lady...
She'd have to be a nice lady to have raised such a nice family...
But this was almost too nice.
"Well, it's...oh, good day, Catherine. What brings you up here?" Lady Pendragon said.
Gwen looked to the doorway and saw what could only be one of the Pendragon daughters standing there. Her thick hair was coiled elegantly at the back of her neck, and her mouth was wide and expressive, just like Arthur's.
"Arthur told me we have a new maid," Catherine said.
Her mother motioned to Gwen.
"This is Guinevere Roberts. We were just chatting. I think we shall get on famously."
At that, Catherine gave her mother an odd look...or at least Gwen thought it was an odd look. She supposed that it was possible that the girl always looked at her mother with a slightly suspicious, slightly confused, sideways glance.
But somehow she didn't think so.
"My brother tells me you saved his life," Catherine said, turning from her mother to Gwen.
"He exaggerates," Gwen said, a faint smile touching her lips.
The girl regarded her with an oddly shrewd glance, and she had the distinct impression that she was analyzing her smile, trying to decide whether or not she was poking fun at Arthur...
And if so, whether it was in jest or unkindness.
The moment seemed suspended in time, but then Catherine's lips curved in a surprisingly sly manner.
"I think my mother is correct," she said. "We shall get on famously."
Gwen sighed internally, it would seem she'd just passed some sort of crucial test.
"Have you met Georgina and Morgana?" Catherine asked.
She shook her head, just as Lady Pendragon said,
"They are not at home. Georgina is visiting Dorothy and Morgana is off at the Hanbury's. She and Annabelle seem to be over their row and are once again inseparable."
Catherine chuckled.
"Poor Phoebe. I think she was enjoying the relative peace and quiet with Morgana gone. I know I was enjoying the respite from Annabelle."
Lady Pendragon turned to Gwen and explained...
"My daughter Morgana, can more often than not be found at the home of her best friend, Annabelle Hanbury. And when she is not, then Annabelle can be found here."
Gwen smiled and nodded, wondering once again why they were sharing such tidbits with her. They were treating her like family... Something even her own family had never done.
It was very odd.
Odd and wonderful.
Odd and wonderful and horrible.
Because it could never last.
But maybe she could stay just a little while... Not long... A few weeks...maybe even a month.
Just long enough to get her affairs and thoughts in order...
Just long enough to relax and pretend she was more than just a servant...
For she knew she could never be a part of the Pendragon family. But maybe she could be a friend.
And it had been so long since she had been anyone's friend...
"Is something wrong, Gwen?" Lady Pendragon asked. "You have a tear in your eye."
Gwen shook her head.
"Just a speck of dust," she mumbled, pretending to busy herself with the unpacking of her small bag of possessions. She knew that no one believed her, but she didn't much care.
And even though she had no idea where she intended to go from this moment on, she had the oddest feeling that her life had just begun...
Stay safe friends!