Chapter 32 - An Unsettling Calm

"Did you choose me to spy on Lady Clara?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The Duchess's eyes widened slightly behind her mask, and I immediately regretted my boldness. I had only been in her service for less than an hour, and already I was questioning her motives. Before I could stammer out an apology, she shook her head.

"Not exactly," Isabella replied, her voice calm and measured. "I didn't choose you to spy on my sister or as some tool for revenge. I chose you because I knew you wouldn't willingly report back to Clara."

I frowned slightly, confused by her reasoning.

"You fear her," she continued, "and from what you've just told me, you have good reason to dislike her as well. That makes you less likely to betray my confidence."

Her logic made sense. Still, I couldn't help but feel there was more to it.

"However," the Duchess added, her tone growing firmer, "I must warn you against any secret meetings with my sister. Clara has a way of manipulating people, making promises she never intends to keep, or threatening consequences she has no power to enforce."

I nodded quickly, recalling all too well how Lady Clara had convinced a kitchen maid to steal sweet treats for her, only to have her dismissed when caught, claiming she knew nothing about it.

"You have my loyalty, Your Grace," I promised, meaning every word. "Lady Clara has shown me nothing but cruelty. When she was displeased with my work, she would pinch my arms where no one could see the marks. She once spilled ink on her own dress and blamed me, ensuring I went without wages for a month."

The Duchess's visible features softened with sympathy. "I'm familiar with her methods," she said quietly.

I hesitated before speaking again. "There is something you should know, Your Grace."

Isabella straightened, her attention sharpened. "Go on."

"Lady Clara's behavior has changed in the last day," I explained, lowering my voice despite us being alone in the room. "After your engagement to Duke Alaric was announced, she was furious—throwing things, screaming until her voice grew hoarse. But then... something changed."

"Changed how?" the Duchess asked, leaning forward slightly.

"She's no longer upset. In fact, she seems almost... calm. Confident, even. It's strange and unsettling." I twisted my hands in my apron. "And there's more. After the Duke left yesterday—after he proposed to you—Baron Reginald and Lady Beatrix called Lady Clara to the study. They spoke behind closed doors for over an hour."

Isabella's posture stiffened. "They were plotting something."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway. "I believe so, Your Grace. Lady Beatrix had a satisfied look when they emerged. The kind she gets when she's devised something particularly nasty."

The Duchess rose from her chair and paced to the window, her fingers absently touching the edge of her mask—a nervous habit, I suspected.

"This isn't good," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "Clara wouldn't give up so easily. None of them would."

I watched her, seeing the worry etched in the visible half of her face. The rumors about the Beaumont family's treatment of their eldest daughter had always circulated, but seeing her fear now made them seem all too real.

"Your Grace?" I ventured cautiously. "What would you like me to do?"

Isabella turned back to face me, her decision made. "I want you to bring enough food and drink to last us until tomorrow morning. Bread, cheese, fruit—whatever you can gather without drawing attention. Then return here immediately."

"You intend to stay locked in this room until the Duke arrives?" I asked, understanding dawning on me.

"We both will," she confirmed. "I don't trust any of them, and I won't risk whatever they might be planning. The Duke will come for me tomorrow, and until then, it's safer if we simply... disappear."

I nodded, relieved that she included me in her safety plan. The thought of facing Lady Clara or the Baroness alone, knowing I was now aligned with Isabella, was terrifying.

"I'll be quick, Your Grace," I promised, rising to my feet.

"Be careful," she warned. "If anyone asks, say I'm resting and requested some refreshments. Nothing more."

I slipped out of the room, my heart pounding as I made my way to the kitchen. The house felt different somehow—too quiet, too still—as if it were holding its breath in anticipation.

The kitchen was mercifully empty except for the cook, who was preoccupied with preparations for the evening meal. I managed to fill a small basket with bread, cheese, apples, and a bottle of water without arousing suspicion. As I turned to leave, I nearly collided with Lady Beatrix.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, eyeing the basket with suspicion.

I dropped into a quick curtsy, keeping my eyes lowered. "Refreshments for the Duchess, my lady. She's resting and requested something to eat."

Lady Beatrix's eyes narrowed. "Is she unwell?"

"Just tired, my lady," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "She mentioned needing her strength for tomorrow."

A cold smile spread across the Baroness's face. "Yes, tomorrow. Such an important day for her." There was something in her tone that made my skin crawl. "Well, don't keep her waiting then."

I hurried past her, feeling her eyes boring into my back as I climbed the stairs. When I finally reached Isabella's room, I knocked quietly.

The door opened just enough for me to slip through before Isabella quickly closed and locked it behind me. I set the basket on a small table by the window.

"Did anyone see you?" she asked anxiously.

"Lady Beatrix," I admitted. "She asked about you, and I said you were resting."

Isabella's face paled slightly. "What did she say?"

"She mentioned tomorrow being an important day. Her smile..." I shuddered at the memory. "It wasn't kind, Your Grace."

The Duchess sank onto the edge of her bed. "Whatever they're planning, it will happen before the Duke arrives." She looked up at me, determination replacing her momentary fear. "We'll stay here, Clara. The door remains locked until morning."

I nodded, settling into a chair near the window. Outside, the sun shone brightly, birds sang in the garden, and everything appeared peaceful. But inside the Beaumont house, tension hung in the air like a storm cloud ready to break.

Isabella walked to the window, gazing out toward the road that led to the Thorne estate. "I wonder," she said softly, "if the Duke might have someone watching this house."

The thought seemed to comfort her. I wasn't sure if it was true, but I hoped it was—for both our sakes.

As the day progressed into evening, the unsettling calm persisted. Occasional footsteps passed by the door, pausing before continuing on. Once, I was certain I heard Lady Clara's voice whispering to someone, but Isabella placed a warning finger to her lips, and we remained silent and still until the hallway was quiet again.

Night fell, casting long shadows across the room. The house creaked and settled, each sound magnified by our heightened awareness. Isabella sat on the windowsill, still watching the road, the weight of her family's unknown plans hanging heavily between us.

"Just until morning," she whispered, as much to herself as to me. "Just until he comes."