London Husband

Chapter 1: Disguised As A Maid

London, England

April 1816:

"You, of course, understand that we are in danger of hell if our mother catches us?"

Arabella Blydon looked skeptically at her suit. She and Emma lent the dresses to the maids, causing their horror, and now they crept down the stairs of the London house Bell.

"You'll get much more if your mother hears how you scold," Emma said with a grin.

- In fact I do not care. If I'm forced to lead the arrangement of flowers at your party, I'll just start yelling.

"I think the cry will hardly be appropriate, since our goal is to slip away."

- Yes, you are quiet! Bell muttered, not very graciously, advancing tiptoe-down.

Looking around, Emma followed her cousin with apprehension. The back staircase in no way resembled the one on which Bell and he usually went to the main hall, decorated with pillows and luxurious Persian carpets. Compared with it, the wooden polished steps of the black staircase seemed narrow, and the walls were whitewashed and decorated with nothing. The tranquil simplicity of the stairwell reminded Emma of her home in Boston, which was not pompous and was not compared to the luxury of the London style.

Blydon Mansion, located in a fashionable area on Grosvenor Square, belonged to the family for over a hundred years and was hung with family portraits of Blydonovs of the past. Emma looked back at the empty walls and sighed softly, driving away memories and longing for her father.

"I can not believe I'm sneaking up the stairs of my own house like a thief, only to avoid meeting my mother," Bell grumbled as they moved down.

Having reached the landing of the stairs and passing the first flight, they turned the corner.

"In truth, I would prefer to curl up in my bed with a book in my hand, but of course she'll find me there and make me look through all the menus from start to finish."

"Such a fate is worse than death," Emma murmured.

Bell gave her an insightful look.

"Look under your feet," she cautioned in a whisper, "this step creaks in the middle."

Emma's eyes narrowed.

"I understand that you often descend in this way?"

- It happens. It's always good to know how to slip out of the house without telling anyone about it. But usually I do not dress like a maid.

"Well, if we're going to help the cook prepare food for the evening, it's not necessary to be dressed in silk."

Bell shrugged and flung open the door to the kitchen.

- Hello everyone, we came to help you. You can use two extra pairs of hands, do not you?

The cook raised her hands to the ceiling, and a cloud of flour rose into the air.

"What, for God's sakes, are you doing in the kitchen?" You will only get under your feet.

Seeing that none of the young ladies was going to leave the kitchen, the cook clenched her teeth and began to wave on them with a wooden porcelain.

"In case you did not notice, I can tell you that we have a lot of work. Now go home, before I call the countess."

At the mention of her mother, she flinched.

"Please let us stay, Mrs. Cook." She was sincerely convinced that the 'cook' was her own name, because for a long time no one had called the designated lady otherwise and everyone had forgotten her name. "We promise not to interfere. On the contrary, we can help you and keep quiet."

"You do not belong here. Is there really nothing else to do but play cook?"

"In truth, there's nothing to it," Bell said sincerely.

Emma's smile expressed a tacit agreement. She and Bell constantly got involved in different stories and thought out tricks, and it lasted all three weeks from the time of their arrival. Not that they wanted trouble: just in London there was absolutely nothing to do. At home, Emma kept an eye on the affairs of the Dunster Shipping Company, but in London, accounting was not considered an occupation worthy of a young English lady, and she could only try on the toilets and learn the art of dancing.

As a result, Emma was constantly bored, because she was used to feel useful.

She and Bell were ready to start all the hard, just to somehow have fun. Emma taught her family to play poker, a game that she herself secretly mastered back in Boston.

Caroline shook her head and sighed, realizing that Emma had a bad influence on her children. Before Emma's arrival, Bell led the life of a blue stocking. Now she became a real tomboy.

Caroline was also worried about Emma's debut in the light. Knowing that in the end Emma was to return to Boston for her father, she secretly hoped that her niece would fall in love with an Englishman and remain in London. Perhaps then her father would also live here.

Meanwhile, Caroline gave a grand ball for the purpose of presenting Emma to society.

The ball was expected this evening, and so the girls ran down to not participate in the preparations for it.

"Please, let us help here: at the top is the horror of what's going on." Emma sighed. "Everyone is just talking about the upcoming evening."

- Well, they say the same thing here. - The cook smirked. "Today your aunt is receiving at least four hundred guests, and we have to feed them all."

"That's why we're offering you help.What should I do first?"

"You should have left the kitchen before you were found here! I can not wait to start the season: then you probably will not be up to pranks."

"The season starts tonight," Bell said innocently. "At the ball, Mom will introduce Emma to a secular society, and maybe we will have so many fans that there will not be time to bother you."

"God grant it!"

"And now, Mrs. Cook," Emma said, "take pity on us. If you do not let us do anything here, Aunt Caroline will make us decorate the hall with flowers."

- You are welcome! - Bell tightened her flattering song. "You really love it when we're here."

"All right," the cook agreed grumpily. At least, the girls were able to cheer up all the staff of the kitchen with their insane antics and raise their spirits. "Although it goes against my views and common sense. In fact, you need to be upstairs and get ready for the ball, and do not hang around in the kitchen. See those bowls over there? Pour each of six cups of flour and two sugar. Do it carefully and do not get confused under your feet."

"Where's the flour?" Asked Emma, glancing around the kitchen. The cook with a sigh again went to the storeroom.

- Wait a second! If you really want to take my place, then pick up those heavy bags.

Emma snorted and easily carried the bag to the table, where Bell had already measured the sugar.

"It's good that we escaped Mom," Bell said with a grin. "She probably would have made us dress, and the ball will not start until after eight hours."

Emma nodded. Frankly, she was looking forward to her first ball in London and was ready to endure long hours of fitting and dancing lessons without resentment. It's a pity that Aunt Caroline gave orders as well as any army general, so after many weeks of fitting out the toilets, the choice of colors and music, neither Emma nor Bell wanted to appear near the ballroom until Bell's mother prepared everything that is necessary.

As soon as they took up their business, Bell turned to Emma with a serious look of blue eyes:

- Are you worried?

"Because of tonight?"

Bell nodded.

- Little. You know, you, the English, frighten your adherence to etiquette and all sorts of rules.

Bell answered with a sympathetic smile and removed from her eyes a strand of wavy hair.

- And you all will pass perfectly. I got the impression that you know well what you are doing and people believe you.

"You're so smart," Emma said. "That's because you read a lot."

Bell rolled her eyes in mock horror.

"I'll never find a husband if I sit all the time, buried in a book."

"Is that what your mother says?"

"Yes, but she only wants me good and will not insist on my marriage for anything to get me out of hand. Last year, she allowed me to turn down Count Stockton, and he was considered the most enviable fiancé."

"And why did he not please you?"

- He was embarrassed by what I like to read.

Emma smiled and added the flour to the bowls with the dough.

"He said that reading is not for women's brains," Bell continued. - This contributes to the birth of "harmful ideas".

- God forbid!

- I know, I know. He also said that I was not worried, and promised after the wedding to disaccustom me from this harmful occupation.

Emma looked sideways at her cousin:

"And you did not say that you would eradicate his self-confidence?"

- I wanted to, but I changed my mind.

- And I would say.

- No doubt. You have the talent to say what you think.

- That's a compliment?

Bell did not answer right away.

"I think so," she said at last. - Now the red ones are out of fashion, but I predict that in a month you will have an enormous success with your impossible manner of speaking, and, as I understand it, those who are aware of everything will inform me that the redheads have become the highlight of the season and My cousin was lucky, although she has the misfortune of being an American.

"For some reason I doubt it, but it's very nice of you to think so."

Emma realized that she was not as good as Bell, but her own appearance was quite satisfying. Ned once called Emma a chameleon, meaning that at each turn of the head her hair changed color and a ray of light could make them burn. And Emma's eyes, usually light-violet, darkened and lit up with a dangerous shine and became almost black when she was angry.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Emma called out loudly:

"Mrs. Cooke!" What should we do next: we have already used up all the flour and sugar.

- Eggs. Each bowl should have three eggs. And no shells - if they fall into my pies, then instead of them I will serve your guests with your heads.

- Mrs. Cook is now rampant. - Bell grunted.

"I've already heard that, missy! Want to stay in my kitchen, get to work!"

"Where do you keep your eggs, Mrs. Cook?" - Emma ransacked the box, which held perishable food. "I do not see them anywhere."

"I knew that you two do not have the instinct and talent for cooking," the cook grumbled and opened the box, but her search was equally inconclusive.

- Gee. We do not have eggs!

The face of the cook from the grim became fierce.

- What kind of forgotten forgot to buy eggs? She exclaimed menacingly.

Since no one confessed, the cook looked around the kitchen, and finally her gaze lingered on a young girl hunched over a mountain of berries.

"Mary," she called to her assistant, "will you be finished soon?"

Mary wiped her wet hands with her apron.

"No, ma'am, I still have work to do. I've never seen so many berries."

"Susie?"

Suzy had her hands on her elbows in soapy foam, because she hurriedly washed the dishes.

Emma looked around the kitchen, in which at least twelve people worked, but they all seemed terribly busy.

"Well, that's what God knows," the cook grumbled. "We have to feed four hundred souls, but I do not have eggs and there is no one who could go and buy them."

"I'll go," Emma said.

The cook looked at her disapprovingly:

- Yes you are crazy!

"Emma, you can not do this in any case," Bell added to her.

Emma's eyes widened.

- I'm not crazy and I do not understand, why do not I go and buy eggs? Besides, a breath of fresh air will not hurt me: I've been locked up all morning ...

"But they can see you," said Bell. "And you're all in agony." Stop it, for God's sake!

- While I'm not familiar with anyone here. Who will recognize me?

"But you can not leave the house in the maid's dress."

"It's exactly in this dress that I should go," Emma explained patiently. "If I wore one of the dresses worn in the morning, everyone would wonder why this lady went out without escort and went to the market for eggs. When I'm dressed like a maid, no one will look at me. But you, of course, can not go with me: they will instantly recognize you.

Bell sighed.

"My mother would have killed me."

- You see now. If Mrs. Cook needs our help, then this is the only correct decision. - Feeling victorious, Emma smiled.

"I do not know, I do not know, Emma." Bell shrugged. "Letting you leave the house alone ..."

Emma sighed with irritation:

"I'll gather the hair in a knot at the back of my head, like the maids do, and I can still stain the dress and cheeks with flour."

"Hey, do not try so hard!" The cook shouted at Emma. "Do not waste a good meal on it."

"Well, Bell?" Emma waited. - What do you think?

- I do not know. Mom would not like it.

"She will not know about it."

- Well then fine! - Bell turned to the other workers in the kitchen: - Not a word about it, you understand?

"I do not like it either," the cook grumbled. "I do not like it at all."

"We have no choice if you are going to bake pies for today's holiday." Why do not you instruct Bell to squeeze juice from lemons? I promise to return so soon that you will not have time to blink. With these words, Emma snatched money from the cook's hand and slipped out the door.

Leaving on the street and swallowing cold spring air, Emma felt freedom. Free! It's so nice to leave the cousin's house from time to time; besides being dressed as a maid, she could walk as long as she liked. But after tonight, she will not have to leave Blydon-Mans without an escort.

Emma turned the corner and walked slowly along the sidewalk, stopped in front of each window and looked at it for a long time. As she expected, none of the ladies and gentlemen who passed by did not hold her gaze. And what interest could a small red-haired maid bring from head to foot with flour?