Chapter 13 - Housekeeper's Whisper

Anna, the Duke's housekeeper, always held the threads of the household tightly in her capable hands, much like a seamstress ensuring each stitch was perfectly in place. On this particular morning, the whispers that had been rustling through the corridors like autumn leaves caught in a gust finally settled at her feet. She moved with purpose, her crisp cotton gown rustling softly as she navigated through the elegant estate, its opulent wallpaper and gilded picture frames observing her every step.

 In her heart, she harbored a deep compassion for Amelie Huber, the center of the unfortunate rumors. Anna had heard of the young woman's love for the outdoors and her unorthodox ways; Amelie had never fit the mold of demure femininity, instead preferring to learn and read, often seen with windswept hair as she raced across fields rather than practicing needlework or piano scales.

 Upon learning of her pregnancy, Anna traveled from Wartenburg to Arenland to inquire about her health and whether she could potentially serve as a wet nurse.

 Instead of asking the Hubers directly, she decided to use her relationship to gather more information. Anna paid a visit to Silke, the Hubers' servant and an old acquaintance, in hopes of learning more.

 As Anna entered the laundry room, the scent of lavender water and soap greeted her, mingling with the steam rising from the linens. Silke, having just hung up a particularly fine piece of lace, turned to Anna with eyes wide and earnest. The servant's voice was hushed but carried an urgency that matched the gravity of their secret exchange.

 "Anna," Silke began, wringing her hands in her apron, "I've seen it with my own eyes – poor Amelie's condition. Her clothes, they were damp, right here." She pointed to the chest of her own dress, her cheeks flushing with empathy. "And I heard you mention the need for a wet nurse."

 Anna's gaze held steady, a testament to years of managing crises unseen by the nobility. "Indeed, the Duke's son is in need. And we must act swiftly, for the sake of the child."

 Silke nodded, relief washing over her features. "If Amelie could be spared the harsh tongues and find refuge in service there, perhaps it would be a blessing disguised," she murmured, her voice laced with hope.

 "Discretion will be our ally," Anna replied, her tone imbued with the wisdom of her station. "We shall frame this as an act of charity and necessity. The support of the Duke may well lift Amelie's family from their plight and shield her from scorn."

 With that, Anna affirmed her decision. Not only would she preserve the dignity of the young mother but also secure the well-being of the heir to the estate. As she exited the room, her silhouette cast a long shadow on the worn floorboards, a silent vow that she would guide this delicate matter to a resolution worthy of the walls that surrounded the baby.

 The heavy oak door creaked open, a sliver of light slicing through the oppressive darkness of the Duke's chamber. Anna, with an air of quiet determination etched into the lines of her face, stepped inside, bearing the weight of her charge with the grace befitting a woman of her position.

 "Your Grace," she began, her voice steady despite the tension that hung between the towering bookshelves and ornate furnishings—a stark contrast to the disarray of the Duke's spirit. "There is a matter most urgent that I must discuss with you."

The Duke, ensconced in shadows near the unlit hearth, lifted his head, his eyes hollow from nights robbed of sleep by the fretful cries of his heir. Desperation had become his constant companion, the fear for his son gnawing at the edges of his sanity. 

"Speak, Anna," he managed, the words scraping against his throat.

"Your son requires sustenance that our temporary wet nurse cannot provide," Anna said, moving closer to the window, allowing the soft afternoon light to bathe the room in a warm glow reminiscent of the sun-drenched gardens outside. "I have learned of a young woman, Amelie Huber, whose circumstances may be providential for us both."

The Duke's brow furrowed, interest piqued despite the mire of his thoughts. "Continue," he urged.

"Due to the war and its relentless demands, we find ourselves in an era scarce of nursing mothers." Anna's hands, though folded neatly before her, trembled with the urgency of her plea. "Amelie, however, has been graced with a child, and with it the means to nurse another."

"Is she suitable?" the Duke asked, the rustle of his brocaded dressing gown brushing the air as he stood.

"Indeed," came Anna's crisp reply. "Her brother was called to serve five months past, leaving her family in dire straits. Her service could lift them from penury whilst ensuring the survival of your son."

"Her character?" His voice was a whip-crack in the stillness, seeking assurances beyond the practicalities Anna presented.

Despite the fact that he had no other option, he still desired to understand her better. However, it ultimately didn't make much of a difference. 

"Strong and well-read, Your Grace. A girl who played amongst boys and knows the value of resilience. She will not be easily undone by the hardships of mother life."

The Duke considered Anna's words, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The silence stretched, fraught with the gravity of their situation. Finally, he nodded, the decision clear in his eyes. "Make the arrangements, Anna. We can ill afford further delay." 

"Right away, Your Grace." With a curtsy that bespoke her respect and readiness to act, Anna turned on her heel, her skirts whispering secrets only the opulent room would keep. She harbored no illusions about the challenges ahead but knew in her heart that for the sake of the innocent lives entwined in this plight, there could be no other way.

Heinrich's boots clicked on the marble as he strode toward the Duke's study, his face a mask of solemn duty. The heavy oak door swung open with a whisper, revealing the Duke, his tall frame silhouetted against the large windows draped in velvet, the light casting shadows across his brooding features.

"Your Grace," Heinrich bowed slightly, "I shall leave at once for the Huber residence."

"Good," the Duke replied curtly, his eyes holding a glint of renewed purpose amid the pall of despair. "Time is of the essence."

"Indeed, Ludwig." Heinrich turned to leave but was halted by the firm voice of Anna, who emerged from the shadows where tapestries adorned the walls with tales of chivalry and romance.

"Master Heinrich," she began, her voice steady despite the fluttering of her heart, "I must insist on accompanying you."

Her request hung in the air, embellished with the weight of her unspoken knowledge. The Duke looked at her, his gaze penetrating, as if appraising her resolve.

"Anna, this is a delicate matter," he started, a frown creasing his brow.

"Which is precisely why my presence would be prudent," she interjected, her tone respectful yet unwavering. "The young woman and her family will require a gentle hand, one that understands their plight."

The Duke surveyed her, the lines of his face softening ever so slightly. Anna, always the epitome of propriety, stood resolute, her own gown meticulously fashioned in the style of the day, each pleat and lace speaking to her attention to detail and understanding of decorum.

"Very well," he conceded, nodding once. "See to it that this situation is resolved with the utmost discretion."

"Of course, Your Grace," she replied, curtsying gracefully before turning to face Heinrich, who regarded her with a newfound respect.

Together they departed, passing through the grandeur of the Duke's estate, under archways carved with precision, past ornate furnishings that spoke volumes of the life they were momentarily leaving behind. As they stepped out into the crisp air, the stately carriage awaited, its glossy black paintwork gleaming and horses pawing at the cobblestones, eager to embark on the journey.

"Miss Anna," Heinrich said as he offered his hand to assist her into the carriage, "your insight will be invaluable."

"Thank you, Heinrich," she responded, allowing a small smile to grace her lips. "Let us hope our efforts will bring solace to both the child and the young mother."

With a final nod to the coachman, the carriage rolled away from the duke's domain, its occupants bound by a common goal. As they traversed the cobblestone streets, their path took them closer to Amelie's fate, and the future of a child who lay unaware of the hopes and fears entangled in his very existence.