"You never find yourself until you face the truth." Pearl Bailey.

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Chapter Four

Elena settled in over the next few weeks. She effectively became comfortable. She felt safe and secure at Ascot. She felt concealed. She and Marisol were no longer interesting to the other servants. The questions about their past had long stopped. The mealtime conversations often revolved around whatever was on the front page of the newspaper.

The work was demanding, and at times quite tedious, but Elena did not mind. She knew the alternative. She had turned eighteen years old. She and Prince Carlos would have been married and there would have been every likeliness that she would have been carrying his child.

Ascot had hosted several balls in the weeks that Elena had been at Ascot. From what she had seen and heard, they were very glamourous. Of course, what she saw was the disarray that was the ballroom the morning after. Elena could hear the music, though. It sounded wonderful and jolly. On the night of the first summer ball, Elena and Marisol had danced in their bedroom. Of course, they were not familiar with English dances but it was entertaining to try to dance flamenco to a pianoforte. Mrs Johnson had subsequently told them to stop stomping on the floor.

Elena had not encountered any member of the Wilde family since her conversation with David in the hallway. She was glad for it. The little she had to do with them, the better.

Her avoidance of them did not stem her curiosity. Her curiosity surrounding David was very great. He was unlike any aristocrat she had ever encountered. The wealthy men she had known in Spain were all very proper. They would not be seen without their finest and most expensive clothes and they would never lift a finger to work. But work was all David would do. All day, every day.

He was creating some sort of contraption on the stairs. Each morning she would rise to lay the fires in the library, drawing and dining rooms and she would see that something new had been added.

He had fixed two metal, what looked like, poles to the wall below the banister. She was unsure of what it was to be but she was surprised his parents were allowing him to alter their home in such a way. But then again, the Duke and Duchess were nothing like Juan and Lupe. Juan believed in inflicting physical pain as means of securing obedience. The Duke and Duchess seemed to simply love and trust their children. Elena had not heard them raise their voices to their children once. To each other, on the other hand, was another matter altogether.

The Duke and Duchess had no qualms with arguing in front of serving staff. While travelling up the staircases, concealed in the walls, Elena could often hear their quarrelling. The other servants seemed used to it, and were very confident in their Grace’s ability to resolve whatever disagreement they faced.

“Elena,” said Mrs Johnson one Thursday after their morning chores.

“Yes, Mrs Johnson?”

Mrs Johnson handed her a stack of letters. Elena took them carefully. They were not the servants’ letters, they were the family’s. The servants were responsible for mailing their own letters on their weekly trips into the village for church. Of course, Elena and Marisol did not attend the village church. They were Roman Catholics, a fact that did not bother the other servants. They were a very tolerant household. Elena had no desire to attend church. There was simply too much to confess.

Elena turned her attention back to the mail in her hands. Mr Clarke was responsible for the family’s letters. Why was Mrs Johnson giving them to her?

“Mr Clarke is unable to take these to the post office today,” she explained.

“Why not?” Elena asked.

Mrs Johnson arched an eyebrow. “That is not any of your business, Elena,” she said firmly. “The footmen and maids will be given any information if and when they need it.”

Elena pursed her lips. It would have to take something fairly significant for Mr Clarke to delegate his duties. Elena wondered what was happening. “But why me?” she pressed.

“Is it really too difficult a task to walk a mile into the village and then walk back?” Mrs Johnson huffed and placed her hands on her hips. “Do as you are told.”

Elena wondered if Mrs Johnson was still angry about the flamenco dancing. Elena knew that Mrs Johnson liked control as much as Mr Clarke did. The housekeeper was pushed into taking on Marisol and Elena. Perhaps that was her grievance.

Elena and nodded and held the letters in her hands tightly. “Of course, Mrs Johnson. I will take these to the post office.”

Mrs Johnson then produced a list of ingredients written neatly in Mrs Weston’s hand. “I also require that you visit the butcher to place Ascot’s meat order. You shall tell Mr Crowley that we will require these deliveries in three weeks’ time.”

Elena quickly read the list and her eyes widened. Every meat imaginable was written there, and such large quantities too. Were they planning on feeding the entire country?

“Does not Mrs Weston usually order the meat?” Elena murmured as she came to the word ‘offal’. What was offal?

“This is a special order,” replied Mrs Johnson. “Mrs Weston cannot visit the butcher until next week and by then it will be too late. It is essential that this order is placed, do you understand, Elena?” she asked seriously.

Elena nodded. “Yes, Mrs Johnson.” Elena still was unsure why she was the one being trusted with the letters and the important order. Elena had been employed at Ascot for mere weeks. “Why me, Mrs Johnson?” she asked again, wanting an answer. She needed to know other people’s opinions and perceptions of her. It was essential that she remained as overlooked as possible.

“Because I do not think you are a fool, Elena,” replied Mrs Johnson. “You are unassuming, or at least you would like to be, but I believe you are capable. Do not disappoint me. Return by dinnertime.”

With that, Elena was left on her lonesome to walk into the village. Unassuming? What did that mean? Could Mrs Johnson see through her?

Elena fetched the overcoat that Sarah had given her to use. She covered her head with the hood and then proceeded to leave Ascot through the front gate.

It was the first time that she had properly been outside in weeks. “Derbyshire es increíble,” she said to herself as she looked up at the majestic rolling hills. She took a deep breath of the fresh, country air.

After walking for half an hour, Elena could not help but look at the letters in her hand. She knew they were none of her business but she was growing bored. The first letter was addressed to a woman named Jeana. The address was written in what appeared to be French. Several of the letters were travelling to the neighbouring estate of Montrose. The last letter, though, was being sent to London. It was addressed to Christian Sørensen. Elena furrowed her eyebrows. Why did that name seem familiar? Where had she heard that name before?

Elena wondered if it was a particularly English name. Perhaps she had read it somewhere while travelling through England.

She was relieved when she finally arrived in the village. The village was a quaint little community. There were several lanes filled with different shops and businesses providing all sorts of goods and services. On the outskirts of the village, Elena could see the beginnings of many farms. Sheep and cows were absently grazing in the field.

Elena walked down the widest lane, looking at the signs outside each of the shops, looking out for the post office.

The post office was a grey stone building with a timber, painted sign nailed above the door. It read: Ascot Post Office.

Elena pushed open the door, hearing the tinkle of a bell as she did. She lowered her hood and looked around the small office. It smelled quite musty. Stacks of parcels were piled against the wall waiting to be collected. A man wearing an apron emerged from behind the desk and he smiled at her. Elena smiled back politely.

“Good afternoon,” the man said kindly, adjusting the wire spectacles on the end of his nose. “What can I do for you?”

Was it afternoon already? “Good afternoon,” she replied. Elena produced the letters from within her cloak and placed them on the desk before him. “I would like these mailed, please.”

He proceeded to read each of the postal addresses inquisitively. “These come from the big house, do they?” he murmured. Clearly he recognised the addresses. He looked up at her. “Are you a servant?”

Elena supposed the white cap on her head made her occupation quite obvious. “Yes,” she replied, nodding. Elena realised quickly that Mrs Johnson had not given her any money to pay for the mail. “I am sorry but I have forgotten to bring any money with me.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Worry not. The Duke had an account with most of the shops in the village. The accounts are paid when rent is collected.”

“Oh,” realised Elena. “Is there anything else that you require before I leave?” she asked. She had never before mailed a letter. She was not sure of the protocol.

A devious smile spread across his face. “If you are not previously engaged, perhaps we could share a meal this evening?” he proposed.

Elena was taken aback. Again, she was unused to the boldness of men. He was not displeasing to the eye, but Elena simply would not be comfortable dining with a man she did not know in an intimate setting. Like Mrs Johnson had so astutely pointed out, she was trying to remain unassuming. She wanted to be anonymous.

“I thank you, no,” Elena said as kindly as possible. “It is simply impossible for me to be away. I have chores …”

“Of course.” He nodded, still smiling. “What was your name?”

Elena pursed her lip. This question did not help in her quest for anonymity. “Elena,” she replied.

“Elena,” he repeated. “Very pretty. I am George. Please call again.”

Elena blushed before quickly retreating. Once outside, Elena remembered Mrs Weston’s list for the butcher. Now, where would she find the butcher? Elena wandered down the lane, peering in all the windows, watching out for any animal carcasses.

Elena could hear a faint clanging. The final shop on the lane was a blacksmith. She could see a painted anvil on the sign outside. Elena decided to ask the blacksmith where she could find the butcher. Blacksmiths were almost always men and men enjoyed their meat, did they not?

Elena stopped in her tracks when she came to the blacksmith. The man she saw inside was not the man she had expected to see.

He wore a button down white shirt that was covered in black soot. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his strong, lean forearms. His skin was slick was sweat while his fair hair was nearly saturated. He was ferociously pounding a piece of metal on an anvil, bending it to his will.

Elena could not deny that this rugged, working class David was attractive. But why was this rich man working in a blacksmith’s shop? Did it have something to do with his stair project?

David lifted whatever he was working on off of the anvil and he inspected it. It looked to be like a thick circle, a wheel of some kind. It was nowhere near large enough to fit on a carriage. She was unsure of what he would use it for.

At that moment, David happened to look up. He immediately noticed Elena standing twenty feet from him, starring.

She blushed once more, her cheeks burning. He smiled at her and left his circle on the anvil. He wiped his hands on his trousers as he came outside to greet her.

“Elena,” he called cheerfully, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I did not come to see you,” she said quickly. Her sentence sounded rude which was not what she had intended. She merely wanted him to know that she was not spying. For all she knew, she had a spying reputation with the family. “What I mean is that I have business in the village,” she clarified.

David smirked. “You are nervous,” he observed. “You are blushing.”

His statement only made her blush more apparent. How humiliating. “It is warm out,” she murmured pathetically.

David did not embarrass her further. “I apologise for my dishevelled state. It is hard not to ruin clothing when working in this environment.”

Elena wondered if David realised that it would be one of the maids that would have to scrub his filthy shirt against the washboard while mending any damage. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

“Would you like to see?” he offered, motioning for her to follow him into the blacksmith.

Elena nodded and followed him inside. The large structure was very warm, owing to the smouldering fire that was crackling in the centre of the room. Every surface was covered in all sort so tools. Finished and unfinished products were also scattered about, from weapons to horseshoes.

David lifted the metal circle off of the anvil and showed it to her. “It is a runner,” he explained, handing it to her.

Elena inspected the circle. She could see where he had struck it with the hammer to make it flat and smooth. Around the edges was a distinct groove. “What is it for?”

“Have you seen the tracks on the staircase?” he asked.

Elena nodded.

“These grooves will allow this runner to travel down the tracks smoothly. I plan to weld this,” he fetched several pieces of paper from a different work bench, “to the runner.” He handed Elena his plans and waited for her to inspect them.

One the papers were several drawings of a chair. David had further developed the design by drawing in the track and detailing how the contraption was to work. It seemed like he was creating a fast way to descend the stairs. One sat in the chair which was welded to the track and the pushed themselves off.

“What is this?” she asked.

“I know it is farfetched,” sighed David as he scratched his head, “but if it means she can descend the stairs by herself then it is worth it, is it not?”

Elena had learned much about the family that she served from the other servants. It seemed that there was not much that went on in Ascot House that the servants did not know about.

Lady Imogen, David’s younger sister, was weak, small and frail. She was not ever without a companion to lean on and she was carried up and down the stairs as she could not manage them on her own.

David was a very good brother. He was Joaquín to Imogen’s Elena.

“I am good at building things,” he told Elena. “I have never before created anything like this but I want to try. If I fail then I shall patch and paint the walls myself.”

Elena gave David back his plans. “These are wonderful,” she told him sincerely. “Truly wonderful. Your sister is very fortunate to have a brother like you.”

David snorted, shaking his head. “It is my conscience, Elena. How can I walk around with ease while she cannot without trying to improve her mobility somehow?”

“You are a good brother,” she emphasised. “My brothers used to pull and burn my hair as a child,” Elena said without thinking. Her eyes widened after she realised that she had just given out information that nobody needed to know.

David had not missed this information. “You have brothers? How many?” he asked.

David did not like liars. He also seemed to be able to tell when she was lying. She had felt safe for this long. Knowing that she had brothers would not compromise her identity … would it?

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I have three brothers.”

David smiled. “I always wanted a brother. Mama could not, though,” he added sadly.

Elena could be very truthful in this instance. “You are lucky. Brothers are horrid.”

David chuckled. “What are their names?”

“Javier, Jorge … and Joaquín,” she replied. “Joaquín was good to me.” She smiled slightly. “He protected me.”

“Was?” he prompted, raising his eyebrows. “I am sorry.”

“They are not dead,” Elena said, horrified. “No, we simply do not speak.”

“I am sorry for prying. It is none of my business.” He smiled sympathetically. “But I do hope you resume speaking someday. My family constantly interfere, but I adore them. If ever you wish to return to Cornwall for a while then all you have to do is ask Mr Clarke.”

David was a kind man. Elena could not help but admire and respect him. “I shall think about it,” she replied.

“Do,” he insisted.

Elena suddenly remembered that she had business to complete while in the village. She needed to find the butcher. She hoped David would know where to find him. “Master David, you do not happen to know where the butcher, Mr Crowley, is, do you?”

David nodded and pointed to one of the neighbouring farms. “Yes, that is his farm there. Why do you seek him?”

Elena showed him Mrs Weston’s order. “Mrs Weston needs this ordered today. It is for something particularly important in a few weeks’ time.”

David nodded knowingly. “Our royal guests.” David gave her back the list and Elena placed it in her pocked. “Papa’s school friend, Christian Sørensen, is coming to stay with his new wife.”

“Royalty?” Elena gasped. This was not good. Of course, she was not acquainted with every royal family in Europe but she did not want to risk it. She would have to be especially careful. She would rise earlier. She would complete her chores faster and she would move about the house as subtly as possible.

Elena suddenly remembered why that name had been so familiar. Christian Sørensen was the Crown Prince of Denmark. He was also her sister’s betrothed. Christian and Gabriela had been married by proxy years ago but Christian had been unable to collect Gabriela until recently. Perhaps he was travelling through England before going on to Spain. There was nothing to say that Gabriela was travelling with him.

“He and his wife, Princess, or should I say Infanta, Gabriela are touring England,” David continued, not realising that Elena was completely frozen.

“Dios mío,” gasped Elena.

David noticed her exclamation. “What did you say?”

She was being truthful, was she not? “I have a sister called Gabriela,” she admitted.

“You and Marisol have many siblings,” he commented.

“We do,” confirmed Elena. One was travelling to Ascot. Her sister would be residing under the same roof as her. It would only take one chance encounter, one wrong turn in the halls for Elena to be recognised. As soon as Gabriela knew where Elena was, Elena would be sent to Portugal in chains.

“Dios mío,” she said again, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

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Dios mio indeed!! 

I went to the dentist yesterday, on my own without Mummy! Anyway, I wanted to get my wisdom teeth checked because my jaw has been in agony lately, like I'm sleeping with frozen peas on my face it's so sore. It feels like when I had braces on and I could feel my teeth moving but 10x worse. So he looks at my wisdom teeth and goes "They're not even close to the surface, they're not going to come through, you don't have to have them out." So I'm like "Yay!" Then he says that my jaw is hurting for a reason. He starts poking my cheeks and feeling the muscles in my face and apparently they're rock hard from me clenching my teeth too much. He called me a "Stress Clencher". I didn't even realise that I did it so much. I then realised that I clench my teeth then most when I'm watching my little girls play netball lol. 

Speaking of which, they played their final game of the season today. They lost 13-16 but they played so well! I was so proud of them. We only had 7 girls and they were all exhausted from coming back from school camp. They ran their little hearts out :)

We also bought a house today! It's a really nice split level house 12mins from my house now. It's got the most AMAZING pool with this rock waterfall :) If you live in Australia, you've either got to have a pool, or know someone with a pool. You can't survive a summer here without a pool. Me, well I'm half fish ;) I was swimming since before I could walk. A pool is essential for me to live lol. This pool is way deeper than my current pool too :) When my dad put in our current pool it was so deep. Now we're all so tall that the deep end is chest height lol.

Some people have been asking for a family tree. Here you go:

John Wilde (dec) m. Marie Wilde (nee Evans)

-     - Emmett Wilde

-     - Charlotte Wilde

-     - Rosamund Wilde

Emmett Wilde m. Elizabeth Wilde (nee Jones)

-    -  David Wilde

-     - Alexandra Wilde

-     - Imogen Wilde

Nathaniel Swift m. Charlotte Swift (nee Wilde)

-     - Margaret Swift

-     - Edward Swift

-     - Georgina Swift

-     - Elizabeth Swift

Derek Montgomery m. Rosamund Montgomery (nee Wilde)

-     - Rebecca Montgomery

-     - Maxwell Montgomery

-     - Grace Montgomery

-     - Matthew Montgomery (dec)

James Spencer m. Rebecca Spencer (nee Montgomery)

-     - James Spencer

-     - Simone Spencer

Maxwell Montgomery m. Margaret Montgomery (nee Swift)

-     - Janna Montgomery

-     - Nora Montgomery 

Vote and comment!!