Chapter Twelve: Claire
I moved swiftly through the grand hallways of Windsor Manor, the soft creak of the polished wooden floors beneath my feet almost drowned out by the steady hum of morning activity. The sunlight poured through the tall windows, bathing the space in a warm, golden glow that highlighted the intricate tapestries hanging on the walls. It was a morning like any other, yet the air felt thick with unspoken tension, as though the manor itself held its breath in anticipation of something to come.
As I neared the dining room, I could hear the faint murmur of conversation—a low, pleasant murmur that was as much a part of this house as the fine china and polished silver. The earl and countess were finishing their breakfast, their voices laced with the comfort of routine. But even the warmth of the sunlight couldn't shake the unease in my chest.
I entered the room with a polite nod, forcing a calmness into my voice. "Good morning, my lord, my lady," I greeted, the words falling from my lips with practised respect, even as a quiet tremor lingered behind them.
Countess Windsor barely acknowledged me, her cold eyes narrowing slightly as she peered over the rim of her delicate teacup. Her expression was unreadable, as always, like a mask carefully sculpted to hide any trace of emotion. Earl Windsor, on the other hand, glanced up from his newspaper, his smile as warm as the sunlight that poured in through the windows. "Good morning, Miss Becker," he said, his tone light and genuine, a stark contrast to his wife's icy indifference.
I moved swiftly, clearing the table with the precision of someone who had performed the same task countless times even if I had only just begun this job. The delicate china plates felt almost weightless in my hands as I stacked them, while the scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm bread clung to the air, mingling with the heaviness that seemed to settle whenever Countess Windsor was near. I couldn't place it exactly, but her presence always left a chill, even in the midst of summer's warmth.
Once the table was clear, I carried the laden tray to the kitchen, the quiet clinking of dishes and cutlery the only sound accompanying my racing thoughts. My hands were steady, but my mind raced. I would speak with the earl today. I would convince him to let us go outside, to give Viscount William some much-needed air, to allow him the simplest of freedoms.
The kitchen was a welcome retreat. The warmth of the stove and the summer morning's heat wrapped around me like a comforting embrace. I rolled up my sleeves and filled the sink with hot, soapy water, the steam rising in curling tendrils that caused my tied-up chestnut hair to frizz slightly. As I dipped my hands into the water, the suds swirled around my fingers, the softness of the bubbles a strange contrast to the hardness that seemed to fill my heart.
The clatter of dishes being rinsed and placed on the drying rack filled the room, each sound a small rhythm in the symphony of my day. I moved with the practised efficiency of someone who had spent years doing this for her family—methodical, determined, never pausing for breath. But today, my thoughts were far from the mundane task at hand. I was planning and strategizing. Today, I would find a way to speak with the earl alone, to present my case to him clearly and firmly. Viscount William's need for fresh air and social interaction—it was simple but essential. The earl was a reasonable man. Surely, he would understand.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear Countess Windsor enter the kitchen until she was almost upon me. Her presence was as sharp as a knife, cutting through the air with the precision of a woman who expected to be obeyed without question. I straightened quickly, my hands still soapy, as she surveyed the room with that imperious air of hers.
"Miss Becker," she said, her voice cold and precise as if every word was carefully chosen. She sipped her morning tea without looking at me. "When you finish here, do not forget to polish the silverware. And I need you to sweep the floors. Oh, and the library shelves need dusting."
"Yes, Lady Windsor," I replied, my voice steady, though the knot in my stomach tightened further.
She lingered for a moment, her eyes sweeping over the kitchen as if checking for some unseen fault. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she turned on her heel, her heels clicking sharply against the tiles as she left. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, but it was brief. The tension in the room didn't leave with her. It clung to me, tightening around my chest.
"Oh, and one more thing," Countess Windsor's voice rang out again, and I tensed involuntarily, my body stiffening under her icy gaze. She had turned back, her eyes now locked onto me with a sharpness that made my skin prickle. "I expect breakfast in bed, and I'll need help getting ready. You get a pass today because some little rat interrupted my beauty sleep."
I swallowed, my throat tight. "Yes, my lady."
Her lips curled into a thin smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "That is more like it."
With that, she turned and left the kitchen, her footsteps echoing in the silence. I stood there for a moment, the weight of her words pressing down on me, before returning to my task. The dishes were clean now, but the weight of her request lingered.
I drained the sink and wiped my hands on a towel, my mind already returning to my plan. I moved to the sideboard and began polishing the silverware, each piece shining brighter under my touch, each gleaming surface a small victory. I couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now.
As I polished the last fork, I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction, though it was fleeting. My resolve hardened with each motion, each rhythmic stroke of the cloth. I would speak with the earl today. I would not let Countess Windsor's coldness sway me. I would fight for Viscount William's freedom, even if it meant challenging the very woman who seemed to rule this house with such steely grace.
The clock ticked on, and I glanced at it briefly. It was almost time to serve lunch. Taking a deep breath, I gathered the polished silverware and headed toward the dining room, my mind focused, my heart steeled for the challenge ahead. For Viscount William's sake, I would not give up. I would find a way to help him break free from his gilded cage.
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