Excentryke's Musings

Title: The Ladies’ Maid
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandoms: Bridgerton / Pride & Prejudice / Twilight Saga
Pairings: Bella/Owestry, Hastings/Daphne
Rating: PG
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: time travel, vampires (pre-story), class differences, references to cheating and drunkenness (Sophie)
Prompt for Haru who wanted Hastings/Bella, but it turned into something else.  I’m going to write you another prompt, don’t worry.  But, until then, enjoy this.  You have Owestry being adorable! -cen

The Ladies’ Maid

Bella cursed Edward Cullen’s name as she did up the laces of her whale bone corset.  If it hadn’t been for him, she never would have followed Alice to Volterra.  Aro had been bemused by her mind and had locked her in a Volturi prison for several months.  It had been snowing when Bella finally managed to break into a tunnel beneath the prison and crawl out on the other side, sweaty and streaked with dirt, in 1811 Turrin. 

Now, she was forced to wear corsets.  She was naturally thin, barely eating, but it was expected as part of her uniform as the personal ladies’ maid of Miss Daphne Bridgerton.  Bella had traveled from Turrin to Switzerland to France, before hopping on a fishing boat to England.  Now, she was in service and trying her best to survive Regency England.

She slipped into the kitchen and had a cup of tea, her only sustenance for breakfast.  She required nothing else.

The cook served her a second hot cup, this one without milk, and Bella carefully took it up to Daphne’s room.  Setting it down on the bedside table, Bella went to open the drapes.  It was time for the young miss to wake up.

“The sun is shining,” she informed her mistress.  “It is a fine day for promenading.” 

She heard a rustle behind her.

Turning around, she saw Daphne sitting up in bed, drinking her tea.

Smiling, Bella asked, “What dress shall we wear today?”

Daphne Bridgerton was the diamond of the Season, which meant a bevy of suitors, more chocolates than Daphne could possibly eat while maintaining her figure, and heaps upon heaps of flowers from the Duke of Hastings.

“We are to have ices with the duke,” Daphne informed her cheerily.  “I will need you in attendance, Bella.”

Bella only nodded.  She was always in attendance of Miss Daphne Bridgerton so as to guard her reputation.  It was part of her duties as ladies’ maid.  “We shall make sure you look especially lovely this morning,” Bella agreed.  “Put our best foot forward.”

“Quite,” Daphne agreed, a grimace on her face.

Bella wondered what she was thinking.  The Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton was openly promoting the match (though the Viscount seemed displeased for reasons unknown to Bella)—and it seemed as if there was a genuine fondness between Daphne and the duke.  Still, there was something slightly off.  Daphne had yet to confide in her, however, so Bella could only speculate.

They took the carriage to Bond Street and Bella followed Daphne into the glacier.

She was careful to stand unobtrusively against the wall, a pillar of purple with a white pinafore.  The uniform certainly left something to be desired.

The duke was already there, in his handsome red coat, and he lifted his finger to order two ices.  Daphne smiled prettily at him.  They certainly made a fine couple.  Bella absently wondered what it would be to serve a duchess.  She believed the duke’s seat was at Clyvedon Castle.  She had never been.

There was a ring of the bell and Bella looked over.

A gentleman, barely taller than Bella if even that, came in with a young girl.  The gentleman was finely dressed, his clothes well tailored, but they were nonetheless big on him as if he had recently lost weight.  He had weak shoulders, wispy blond hair, and watery blue eyes.  He could hardly be called handsome, but he somehow struck Bella.  The little girl, with similar eyes and similar hair, was clearly a relation if not his daughter.  Bella wondered where her mother was.

He came in and pulled the chair out for his daughter, and she daintily took her seat. 

The glacier came over and brought two ices, each with long spoons.

The little girl was so small she could barely reach the table, let alone grasp her spoon.  Bella smiled to herself.  It was absolutely adorable.

Daphne laughed at something the Duke of Hastings said.  Glancing over, Bella saw that everything was as it should be.  The duke seemed engaged.

She returned her attention to the father and daughter.

The gentleman, however, had noticed her up against the wall, his watery eyes set decidedly on her in curiosity.  His stare was overwhelming, and Bella quickly lowered her eyes in modesty.  She was supposed to melt into the background.  She wasn’t supposed to be noticed.

There was a flick from the other table.  Daphne was holding out her hand, and Bella quietly stepped forward and placed her fan in her waiting fingers.  Daphne unfurled the fan and fluttered it playfully in front of herself.  Ah, she was feeling flirtatious, then.  That was only a good sign.

The duke couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Daphne.  Also a good sign. 

The gentleman with the wispy blue eyes, likewise, couldn’t take his eyes off of Bella, although she was clearly dressed as a maid, pinafore and all.

The little girl said something to him, and the gentleman returned his attention to his daughter.  However, as soon as the child took another scoop of her ice cream, his attention returned back to Bella.

Bella wondered if she had a stain on her dress or if she had tripped her hem.

Men in society should not go around looking at other women’s maids.  It was not the done thing—unless he was looking for a mistress.  Bella certainly hoped not.

Daphne twitched her hand out again.  Bella went and fetched the fan back.  It seemed Daphne was now finished with it.  She was happily chattering away with the Duke of Hastings.  They had been here for at least half an hour already.  They could be there for another hour yet, but Daphne would have to keep her ices lasting that long.  She never liked to eat two in case it ruined her excellent figure.

Remaining against the wall, Bella watched as the other patrons came and went.  She recognized one of the Featherington girls.  They were the Bridgertons’ neighbors.  There was also Miss Cressida Cowper with her maid.

The gentleman who had noticed Bell, kept his eyes freshly on her.  He didn’t even glance at Cressida Cowper’s ladies’ maid.  This was certainly worrying.

Finally, Daphne signaled that she was ready and the Duke of Hastings came up to her and pulled out her chair for her.  Bella came up with Daphne’s shawl and draped it over her shoulders before she stepped back again.  She noticed that the gentleman—whoever he was—noticed her actions and was now taking in Daphne and the Duke of Hastings.

Hastings led Daphne out, and Bella followed at a sedate pace.

When they were back in the carriage, Daphne asked, “Who was that man—with the little girl?—the one who couldn’t keep his eyes off you?”

Bella blushed her horrible blush, that climbed down from her cheeks, to her chin, over her neck, and past her uniform to her chest.  “I do not know, miss,” Bella apologized.  “I was worried I had troubled my frock and he had noticed.”

“You have certainly not troubled your frock,” Daphne assured her, clearly thinking.  “I shall have to keep my eyes out for him in the ballrooms and see if I can garner an introduction.  No man should be appraising my maid.”

“No,” Bella agreed carefully.  “I did not want his attention.”

“No,” Daphne agreed, reaching her gloved hand out and placing it warmly on Bella’s.  “I know you’re a good girl.”  Bella found that a little rich.  She was twenty and Daphne had only just come out into society.  She was hardly a girl, at least in relation to Daphne Bridgerton.  Still, she kept her tongue.  “I will see it put to rights,” Daphne assured her.

It was that evening, when the servants had sat down to their dinner, that the hall boy came up and whispered into the butler’s ear.

“Miss Swan,” he informed the table at large.  “It appears there is a gentleman outside who wishes to speak to you.”

Stunned, Bella paused.  She wondered what it could be about.  “I shall see to it immediately,” she promised, standing from her place.  As she was the eldest Miss Bridgerton’s ladies’ maid, she had point of place at the table after the gentlemen’s valets.

She went out the kitchen door, fixing her cap, when she saw it was the gentleman from the glacier.  Pausing for a second, she realized when he noticed she had come out, because he stood up from where he was resting against the wall.

Carefully, she walked up to him, and quickly informed him before she spoke, “Miss Bridgerton will not take kindly to a gentleman harassing her servant.”  She glanced into his watery blue eyes, that were a half inch below her own gaze, and found they were steady and full of no artifice.

“Forgive me, miss,” he apologized, “but I had to see you again and learn your name.”

Bella paused, considering.  “I am not available for your interests.”  She turned to leave, but he reached out and carefully grabbed her elbow.

“Miss—” he begged, but she cut him off.

“You’re a father,” she reminded him, “undoubtedly a husband—”

“I am a widower,” he corrected.

She breathed out through her nose.  “So you wish a dalliance with a ladies’ maid?”

Mr. Colin’s valet had showed some interest in her, but he had fortunately gone with Mr. Colin to Greece, and that was the end of that.  Bella knew as a ladies’ maid she could have no romantic pursuits, unless she meant to definitely marry and leave service.  She certainly didn’t want to become some gentleman’s piece of the side.  She still didn’t believe in marriage, her own parents’ destructive marriage had taught her that, but she didn’t want to be some man’s plaything.

The man looked her straight in the eye, honest, sincere.  “I can see the habits of my class have prejudiced you.  I wish no such thing.  Allow me to introduce myself.  I am the Viscount of Owestry.”

Bella’s breath hitched despite herself. 

She knew who the Viscount of Owestry was.  Everyone knew who the Viscount of Owestry was.  They didn’t need Lady Whistledown to tell them.  He was the eldest son of the Earl of Matlock, and had been widowed some years previously.  His Viscountess had lived exclusively in London and was said to be of dissolute and unclean habits and had died from her follies, giving him only a daughter within the first year of their doomed marriage.  Owestry had remained almost exclusively at his family’s estate in Derbyshire until her death, but now, now—now the Earl of Matlock was trying to force him to marry again for the good of the title.  Owestry had dutifully come to London and could be seen at every ball, but he refused to dance or speak to anyone, always sitting in a corner and drinking his lemonade, reading a book of poetry he snatched from the library.

“My lord,” she whispered in shock.  “You should not be here.  You will stain your reputation and certainly ruin mine.  Everyone knows you must take a wife.”

His gaze turned kind.  “That is certainly not my intention.”

Bella looked at him, confused despite herself.  Was it not his intention to ruin her reputation or was it not his intention to take a wife?

“I do not wish to ruin your reputation,” he clarified, releasing her elbow and stepping away from her carefully.  “I simply wished to see you again, talk to you.  You have the most breathtaking eyes.”

Bella blinked.  Edward had always said the color of her eyes entranced him.  He had said he could read no hint of her thoughts within them.—What, however, could a human possibly know of her eyes?

“They’re not black,” Owestry continued carefully, “although they almost seem that.  They are a deep violet instead.  Please, miss—”

“Miss Swan.”  It was the hall boy who had come to fetch her.  “Are ye alrigh’?”

Bella didn’t even glance behind her.  “This gentleman merely wishes to know if Miss Bridgerton is promenading tomorrow,” she lied, her voice raised so he could hear her.  “I am informing him that I cannot divulge Miss Bridgerton’s schedule and if he should like to see her, perhaps he should call tomorrow morning.”

Owestry did not react.  He took the ruse for what it was.  His eyes, however, never strayed from Bella’s face.

“I shall tell Mr. Miller then,” the hall boy decided.

Bella still didn’t turn.  “I shall return to dinner in a moment,” Bella promised.

She heard the servants’ entry shuffle and close.  She let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding.  “Viscount—” she tried, but he interrupted her.  “Miss Swan, please allow me to see you again.”  He looked desperate now at the thought of her going inside.

“That is quite impossible,” she told him outright.  “You are a viscount and I am a ladies’ maid.”

“There have been more unequal matches,” he informed her, reaching out for her hand and taking it carefully between his own.  His hands were soft, the hands of the aristocracy who never had to work.  The were also small for a man’s hand, barely larger than Bella’s own slim fingers.  She wondered at it.  She hated that it felt so comforting to have a man hold her hand, even if it was only for a couple of moments.

Slipping her hand away from him, she looked around to make sure no one had seen them.  “Don’t talk about matches,” she begged.  “It’s unfair.”  And it was unfair.  What did Bella have to look forward to but a life of servitude or a life in some cottager’s hut, popping out babies?

“I do not mean to be unfair,” Owestry promised her.  “Miss Swan, I am struck—”  His voice sounded so sincere that it almost hurt her. 

“Go back to your ballrooms,” she told him, turning away.  “There is nothing for you here.”

She whispered away back into the servants’ hall, taking her place at the table.  Her meal had gotten cold she had been out in the courtyard so long.  Mrs. Rawle was even beginning to clean away the tea.  Bella, then, wouldn’t be having dinner tonight.  She would just have her cup of tea in the kitchen as she normally did before bed.  She was getting a little thin, and even she had noticed.

When she went up to undress Daphne for bed, she only half-listened as Daphne prattled away about her day, about the flowers she had received, about ices at the glacier.  “That man!” she was now saying.  “I wonder who he is!”

“The Viscount of Owestry,” Bella supplied, without even thinking.  She hadn’t been paying attention so she had answered just out of habit before she was able to catch herself.  She paused and then went to put Daphne’s dress away, hoping Daphne wouldn’t notice her unease.

“The Viscount of Owestry?” Daphne cried.  “Are you sure?”

“Nearly,” Bella lied.  “I didn’t recognize him until after we left.  That must have been Miss Annabelle with him.”  The Honorable Miss Annabelle Fitzwilliam was his only child, and the girl looked to be the right age.  She also looked exactly like him, with the same watery eyes and the same wisping hair.

“Yes,” Daphne agreed, thinking.  “Yes, certainly you must be correct.”

Bella came out with a negligee.  “Here you are, miss.”  She laid it on the bed. 

Daphne looked over in approval and then gazed at herself in the mirror for several moments, not dismissing Bella. 

Standing in a corner, Bella waited to see if she would be wanted.

“Could this be the face of a duchess?” Daphne wondered to herself.  It was clear she didn’t expect an answer.

Bella slipped out and gently closed the door behind her.

Of course, the Viscount of Owestry did not give up.  Now that he knew Bella’s name, he could write to her—and he did write to her, pages upon pages.  She received a letter nearly every morning in the post, which she read with her tea.

Owestry wanted to know when Miss Bridgerton would next take ices or was set to promenade.  Bella was never going to leak that information, even if Owestry was playing the part of being an admirer of hers and not Daphne’s.  He could only mean for a dalliance, no matter how he spoke of Bella’s beauty and her wondrous eyes.  He did not know her.  He could never know her.  It was quite impossible.

He was, however, resourceful.

On her afternoon off, Bella always went to the same small café just off of Hyde Park.  It served a more elevated clientele, but when she was neatly dressed in her white muslin, the shopgirl sat her off in a corner and always had a fresh pot of tea waiting for her.

She had only been there fifteen minutes when the Viscount of Owestry walked in, his cravat impressively tied, but his clothes a little too loose from his frame.  If Bella were his wife, she would definitely see to that. 

She almost started at the thought and quickly pushed it from her mind.

Spotting her, Owestry came over and indicated the second seat at the table.

“Who did you bribe?” Bella asked in resignation.

“You needn’t worry,” he promised her, taking the seat and indicating to the shopgirl that he needed a second cup.  “I made it sound like I wanted to get Miss Bridgerton alone, which is why I needed to know your habits.”

“You’ll start rumors that Miss Bridgerton is to be the next Viscountess of Owestry,” Bella chided.

The cup came.  Bella didn’t bother to pour him a dish of tea.  He could serve himself if he wanted to take tea with her so badly.

“When you don’t dance with her at the next ball, there will be a backlash.”

“Lady Whistledown will never know,” he promised, taking the hint and pouring his own cup of tea.  There was no milk or sugar on the table, because Bella took her tea black, so he was forced to drink it the way Bella liked it.  If he was unsatisfied, at least he didn’t complain.

“Lady Whistledown always knows,” Bella argued, sipping her own tea.

“Lady Whistledown,” Owestry countered, “is too busy deciding if Miss Bridgerton is the next Duchess of Hastings or will be a German princess.”

“I see you read the gossip columns.”

“Of course I read the gossip columns, I need to know what’s being said about me.  I trust when we’re married, you may read the gossip sheets for me.”

Startled, Bella looked up.

“I do mean to marry you, Miss Swan,” he assured her sincerely.  “I have never been so certain of anything in my life.  Haven’t you been getting my letters?”

Bella had been getting his letters.  That was the problem.  She wondered if the viscount lived in a world of his own imaginings or was genuinely delusional.  No gentleman would actually marry a servant.

“I’ll have the banns read tomorrow,” he was now saying, “and I shall go to the Viscount Bridgerton immediately.  I only need know your Christian name.”

He was delusional, then.  “That will not be necessary,” she promised him.

“It is entirely necessary,” he told her, leaning closer to her.  “How else am I to marry you?”  His watery blue eyes were now hard in their sincerity, and Bella wondered at it.

Setting her cup down, she reminded him, “I am a ladies’ maid.”

“I don’t care,” he told her point blank.  “I want you to meet Annabelle.”

Bella paused.  She had not been expecting this.  “That is entirely out of the question—”

He wasn’t listening to her, however.  “The day is fine, Miss Swan.  Perhaps you should like to promenade in Hyde Park.”

“Where everyone can see?” she asked, aghast.

“Yes,” he agreed, “where everyone can see.  I do not suppose you have a parasol to shade your eyes.  It is unusually bright out.”

Bella let the question pass.  It didn’t matter if she had a parasol or not.  She opened her mouth to object, but Owestry only reached out and laid his hand over hers, the two almost of equal size.  Bella had placed her hand on the table to emphasize a point, and although she was wearing day gloves, Owestry’s hand felt warm and safe over her own. 

Bella hadn’t felt safe since she had been taken captive by the Volturi two years earlier.

The feeling was unfamiliar to her and she just wanted to bask in it forever.  She hated herself for reacting like this, but she couldn’t help it.

“Will you not allow yourself to be loved and cared for?” he asked her carefully, holding her gaze with his own.  “Surely that’s what every woman wants.  A husband, a home, security, children—”

Bella shuddered at the thought.

Owestry clearly noticed.  “You do not want children?”

“I had not honestly considered,” Bella told him carefully.  “My mother hated giving birth to me so much she assured herself she could never become with child again.”  That was one way of describing birth control.  Renee had even gone so far as leaving Charlie in her determination to not have another squalling baby.  Bella often wondered why Renee didn’t just leave her with Charlie.  She could have been free of motherhood, not that Renee had been much of a mother.

“It is painful,” Owestry confirmed.  “This is known.—but the happiness children bring far outweighs the pain of a single moment.”

“You need an heir.”  It wasn’t a counterargument.  It was a statement of fact.

Owestry opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off.  “—there must be dozens of society ladies who are desperate to become the next Viscountess of Owestry.  Marry one of them.”

“I know from experience,” Owestry told her carefully, his hand still warm upon hers, “that marriage without affection is disquieting, even at the best of times.  I will not enter into such a marriage again.”

“You cannot love me,” Bella told him now, her voice small.

“You amaze me,” he countered.  “It will turn into love.”

“It is only the love of the chase and the love of the forbidden.”  She carefully took her hand back and slipped it into her lap.  She immediately felt bereft.

He laughed a little to himself.  “I do not love the chase.  I quite dislike it actually.  I would much rather you agree to marry me now and have this courtship be done with.”

“The forbidden then,” Bella pushed.  She opened her purse to take out a few pennies, but Owestry reached into his waistcoat pocket and withdrew the needed amount.  He came around and held out her chair for her and escorted her out into the street.

“Come promenade with me,” he practically begged.  “We can see the park from here.”  Then, not waiting for an answer, he took her by the arm and began to lead her toward Hyde Park.

They did not speak during their promenade but fell into a comfortable silence.  It was indeed a bit bright, but Bella was wearing a bonnet, which helped shade her eyes.  As they walked along the Serpentine River, Bella paused to look out on the view.

“I could see you here always,” Owestry told her quietly.  “You look so at home here in nature.”

She laughed a little to herself.  “I hate green.”

He looked at her questioningly, but she didn’t explain further.  She just continued to walk and he fell into step beside her.

Someone, though, spotted them.  In the next edition of Lady Whistledown, there was a whole paragraph of speculation on whom the viscount had promenaded in full view of the public.  The author, however, didn’t know Bella’s identity.

Bella didn’t even know there was speculation until she accidentally picked up the discarded copy of Whistledown and saw Owestry’s name printed in bold in the very first column.  She swallowed.  She hoped Daphne didn’t ask her about it.

The letters continued to come, each and every morning.  Bella continued to read them with her morning tea before going up and waking Daphne.  She now had a new suitor in Prince Friedrich of Prussia.  Bella could tell that while she liked the prince, Daphne was certainly in love with the Duke of Hastings.  He was her clear favorite.  For the life of her, Bella couldn’t figure out why the duke hadn’t proposed yet and ended all the speculation.

When he did propose, Daphne seemed less than overjoyed and Bella wondered at it.  However, they wanted to marry by special license and the Archbishop of Canterbury would not allow it.

Bella bit her lip and wondered what would happen to her.

The Viscount of Owestry would know as soon as Lady Whistledown published.  He did, after all, read the gossip sheets.

He blustered into Bridgerton House the very morning of the wedding when Bella was preparing Daphne in her white gown and veil.  A servant came and knocked on the door and came to fetch her down to the viscount’s study.

She had never been called there before.

A sense of unease developed in her stomach, which only increased when she entered and saw not only the Viscount and the Dowager Viscountess, but Lord Owestry.

“Ah, there she is,” Anthony Bridgerton declared.  “Well, is it true—”  He looked at his mother.  “I don’t know her name.”

“Bella,” Violet Bridgerton supplied.  “Daphne’s maid is Bella.”

“Is it true, Bella?” Anthony demanded.  “You have been carrying on with the Viscount of Owestry without even telling your mistress?  He has come to claim you and on Daphne’s wedding day!  How can she possibly go to Clyvedon without a ladies’ maid?”

“We could send Eloise’s ladies’ maid,” Violet suggested carefully, “or even mine until a new one can be found.  It shouldn’t be hard to find a trained girl who would like to work for a Duchess.”

Bella hesitated and glanced at the Viscount of Owestry.

He was looking decidedly worried.

“I have agreed to marry no one—” she whispered.  “And he just shows up on my days off. I can’t seem to stop him.”

Anthony looked over at Owestry accusingly.  “You have been harassing my sister’s ladies’ maid?”  He sighed.  “I expected better of you, sir.—You, Bella, you may go.  I will take care of this.”

Bella looked between all three of them carefully again.

Anthony Bridgerton seemed determined.  Owestry looked resigned.  Violet gave her an encouraging nod.

She curtseyed and left the room as quickly as she could.  Bella couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

Owestry, however, was two steps behind her.  He grabbed her on the stairs and pulled her close to him, breathing in the scent of her hair.  “Bella,” he sighed.  “Don’t do this to me.  Don’t leave me alone.  I’ve been alone for so long.”  He pulled away and grasped her face between his hands, looking down at her adoringly.  “What is your name, m’dear?  Arabella?  Isabella?  Annabella?  To think!  You might have the name of my own daughter.”  He smiled down at her and leaned forward, but she pulled away from him.

“I did not ask for this!”

“I know you did not ask for this,” he replied, but Anthony Bridgerton had now erupted out of his study and was fast behind them.

“Release my sister’s maid!” he demanded.  “She has given her answer!”

Owestry carefully released her and stepped down a step, now becoming noticeably shorter than Bella.

“Let me—” she breathed.  “Let me get Miss Bridgerton ready,” she said to the two men.  “Let me get her ready for her wedding and then I need to think.”

Violet Bridgerton had now come out of the study.

Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton was grimacing.  “Get another ladies’ maid,” he instructed his mother.  “We might have a problem on our hands, after all.”  He glanced down at his mother from his position up the stairs.  “Owestry, back to my study.  Let Bella prepare my sister for her wedding.”

Bella glanced back down the stairs, but then rushed back up to Daphne’s room.  If she had tears in her eyes, she only brushed them away.  She had to have a smile on her face when she saw her mistress and assure her nothing was wrong.  It was her wedding day after all.

The End.